The Most Important People Not On The Ballot
By Crook County Judge Scott R. Cooper
Originally published in the Central Oregonian, November 2006
Recently, while waiting for a delayed flight in the Portland airport, I ran into Congressman Greg Walden and his wife, Mylene. Proving that federal officials are no different than the rest of us, they were grounded for the full 90 minutes it took for a late plane to arrive. Not one to waste time, however, Greg was in full control of his situation, talking into his cell phone, with frequent prompting from his wife:
“Anthony: are you up? Anthony, if you are there, pick up the phone. Anthony, this is DAD, and if you are there, pick up the phone. OK, I hope you are not there and you are on your way to school, and don’t forget to feed the dog.”
“Anthony,” it turns out is the congressman’s 16-year-old-son, staying at home alone for the first time ever while Mom accompanied Dad to Washington for a White House reception. Good parents that they are, Greg and Mylene demonstrated keen awareness that frequent contact with a teenager is the best way to keep him out of trouble.
The call to Anthony was a bit unusual for the Waldens. Usually, Mylene stays home in Hood River and manages the family’s affairs, while Greg flies solo to and from Oregon each weekend. This arrangement apparently works for the Waldens (although it wouldn’t work for me), and it is a great illustration of just how dependent we elected types are on the support of our spouses to get our day jobs done.
That little incident reminded me of another close up and personal experience I had with a candidate’s spouse while I was in college in the early 1980s..
During one of the Presidential years, I was asked to attend a BBQ one hot summer day. The candidate was vice president George H.W. Bush, who showed up, smile on his face, and proceeded to shake hands and work the crowd. This being pre-Sept. 11 the vice president actually was allowed to mingle with people, and I shook his hand and visited a little before turning my attention to the main event, the BBQ! After filling my plate, I looked for an empty hay bale on which to sit, and I ended up next to a pleasant looking white-haired lady in a blue dress and a lot of pearls. She was warm and friendly and really made me like the candidate she was apparently there to support. Only toward the end of our conversation did I learn her name: Barbara Bush, wife and mother of future presidents of the United States.
Today, as the polls close and we take a deep breath and sigh with relief that the end of another campaign season has finally arrived, the spouses of political candidates I have met and those who are on the ballot this season are very much on my mind.
I think that in the age of media hype, it is easy to forget that before candidates signed some piece of paper in a county clerk’s office, they were ordinary citizens just like the rest of us. No matter how weighty their responsibilities, they can’t escape the mundane requirements of everyday life: I’ll bet that even the President of the United States must make a point of remembering his anniversary, and I still chuckle when I remember that a U.S. congressman, between worrying about Iraq and the state of the forests, worries about getting his kid to school on time and making sure the dog is fed.
As this season’s campaign has closed with a particularly vitriolic war of charges and countercharges, I’ve wondered occasionally about how the candidates and spouses, many of whom I know, are faring on a personal level
For candidates themselves, all the ugliness is just an unpleasant fact of political life. Only the most naïve didn’t know that politics ultimately is a contact sport, and if you can’t play rough, you probably shouldn’t play at all. But I’m not sure that spouses always have the same level of understanding of just how rough this business can be. Unlike the candidates themselves, the spouses never had an opportunity to sign the bottom of some form, in effect agreeing to endure a year’s worth of unpleasantness and the sheer drudgery of a campaign.
Going back to my earlier example, do you think Barbara Bush really knew what it might take to try to look elegant while sitting under the hot Missouri sun perched on a hay bale in pearls? I doubt she enjoyed that any more than the wives of our redoubtable gubernatorial candidates have enjoyed watched the respective spouses whom they care about deeply beat each other to a verbal pulp for 11 months running.
Not one of the spouses of our current crop of candidates—not Mrs. Kulongoski, Mrs. Saxton, Mrs. Walden, Mrs. Gilman, Mrs. Lundquist, Mrs. Mohan, Mrs. Clark, Mrs. Avey, Mr. Berman, Mrs. Wendel, Mrs. Conklin, Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Noyes or Mrs. Uffelman—ever co-signed papers agreeing to watch their beloved spouses—the people they presumably love and admire most in the world—take a public drubbing night after night on television and radio, in newspapers, through recorded telephone messages, on campaign signs and in literature. More than anyone else, they know the strengths and weaknesses of their spouses and your candidates, and they are willing to let them step up and take it, despite the stress and pain which inevitably accompanies any campaign.
Before this election season finally sputters to a well-deserved end, let me express a public thank you to these unsung and long-suffering heroines and heroes of the political season. When you signed on “for better or for worse,” this is probably not what you had in mind, but you have bravely endured in silence the attacks on people whom you know to be caring and capable. More than once, you have no doubt put a brave smile on your face, when all you really wanted to do was pull the covers over your head and cry. Putting pride aside, you have begged friends and family for money. You’ve licked envelopes, answered the phone, kept books, motivated volunteers and fed the dog and run the kids to school more than you bargained for. And if you are really, really lucky, your reward will be, you get to do this all over again in two or four years.
As the season comes to an end, here’s to you, spouses. You play a vital role in advancing Democracy in America, and whether we’ve said it or not, on behalf of the electorate, thank you. It wouldn’t happen without you.
Originally published in the Central Oregonian, November 2006
Remembering The Spouses On Election Day
Recently, while waiting for a delayed flight in the Portland airport, I ran into Congressman Greg Walden and his wife, Mylene. Proving that federal officials are no different than the rest of us, they were grounded for the full 90 minutes it took for a late plane to arrive. Not one to waste time, however, Greg was in full control of his situation, talking into his cell phone, with frequent prompting from his wife:
“Anthony: are you up? Anthony, if you are there, pick up the phone. Anthony, this is DAD, and if you are there, pick up the phone. OK, I hope you are not there and you are on your way to school, and don’t forget to feed the dog.”
“Anthony,” it turns out is the congressman’s 16-year-old-son, staying at home alone for the first time ever while Mom accompanied Dad to Washington for a White House reception. Good parents that they are, Greg and Mylene demonstrated keen awareness that frequent contact with a teenager is the best way to keep him out of trouble.
The call to Anthony was a bit unusual for the Waldens. Usually, Mylene stays home in Hood River and manages the family’s affairs, while Greg flies solo to and from Oregon each weekend. This arrangement apparently works for the Waldens (although it wouldn’t work for me), and it is a great illustration of just how dependent we elected types are on the support of our spouses to get our day jobs done.
That little incident reminded me of another close up and personal experience I had with a candidate’s spouse while I was in college in the early 1980s..
During one of the Presidential years, I was asked to attend a BBQ one hot summer day. The candidate was vice president George H.W. Bush, who showed up, smile on his face, and proceeded to shake hands and work the crowd. This being pre-Sept. 11 the vice president actually was allowed to mingle with people, and I shook his hand and visited a little before turning my attention to the main event, the BBQ! After filling my plate, I looked for an empty hay bale on which to sit, and I ended up next to a pleasant looking white-haired lady in a blue dress and a lot of pearls. She was warm and friendly and really made me like the candidate she was apparently there to support. Only toward the end of our conversation did I learn her name: Barbara Bush, wife and mother of future presidents of the United States.
Today, as the polls close and we take a deep breath and sigh with relief that the end of another campaign season has finally arrived, the spouses of political candidates I have met and those who are on the ballot this season are very much on my mind.
I think that in the age of media hype, it is easy to forget that before candidates signed some piece of paper in a county clerk’s office, they were ordinary citizens just like the rest of us. No matter how weighty their responsibilities, they can’t escape the mundane requirements of everyday life: I’ll bet that even the President of the United States must make a point of remembering his anniversary, and I still chuckle when I remember that a U.S. congressman, between worrying about Iraq and the state of the forests, worries about getting his kid to school on time and making sure the dog is fed.
As this season’s campaign has closed with a particularly vitriolic war of charges and countercharges, I’ve wondered occasionally about how the candidates and spouses, many of whom I know, are faring on a personal level
For candidates themselves, all the ugliness is just an unpleasant fact of political life. Only the most naïve didn’t know that politics ultimately is a contact sport, and if you can’t play rough, you probably shouldn’t play at all. But I’m not sure that spouses always have the same level of understanding of just how rough this business can be. Unlike the candidates themselves, the spouses never had an opportunity to sign the bottom of some form, in effect agreeing to endure a year’s worth of unpleasantness and the sheer drudgery of a campaign.
Going back to my earlier example, do you think Barbara Bush really knew what it might take to try to look elegant while sitting under the hot Missouri sun perched on a hay bale in pearls? I doubt she enjoyed that any more than the wives of our redoubtable gubernatorial candidates have enjoyed watched the respective spouses whom they care about deeply beat each other to a verbal pulp for 11 months running.
Not one of the spouses of our current crop of candidates—not Mrs. Kulongoski, Mrs. Saxton, Mrs. Walden, Mrs. Gilman, Mrs. Lundquist, Mrs. Mohan, Mrs. Clark, Mrs. Avey, Mr. Berman, Mrs. Wendel, Mrs. Conklin, Mrs. Harris, Mrs. Noyes or Mrs. Uffelman—ever co-signed papers agreeing to watch their beloved spouses—the people they presumably love and admire most in the world—take a public drubbing night after night on television and radio, in newspapers, through recorded telephone messages, on campaign signs and in literature. More than anyone else, they know the strengths and weaknesses of their spouses and your candidates, and they are willing to let them step up and take it, despite the stress and pain which inevitably accompanies any campaign.
Before this election season finally sputters to a well-deserved end, let me express a public thank you to these unsung and long-suffering heroines and heroes of the political season. When you signed on “for better or for worse,” this is probably not what you had in mind, but you have bravely endured in silence the attacks on people whom you know to be caring and capable. More than once, you have no doubt put a brave smile on your face, when all you really wanted to do was pull the covers over your head and cry. Putting pride aside, you have begged friends and family for money. You’ve licked envelopes, answered the phone, kept books, motivated volunteers and fed the dog and run the kids to school more than you bargained for. And if you are really, really lucky, your reward will be, you get to do this all over again in two or four years.
As the season comes to an end, here’s to you, spouses. You play a vital role in advancing Democracy in America, and whether we’ve said it or not, on behalf of the electorate, thank you. It wouldn’t happen without you.
posted by Scott Cooper | 10:23 PM
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