Showing posts with label Aunt Bess. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aunt Bess. Show all posts

Sunday, February 14, 2016

The Game Changer



"The Court claims that the Act must equate federal and state establishment of Exchanges when it defines a qualified individual as someone who (among other things) lives in the 'State that established the Exchange.' Otherwise, the Court says, there would be no qualified individuals on federal Exchanges, contradicting (for example) the provision requiring every Exchange to take the 'interests of qualified individuals' into account when selecting health plans. ... Pure applesauce."

Antonin Scalia, King v. Burwell (2015)

I have followed politics longer — and, as nearly as I can tell, more closely — than most people. Perhaps it has been to my detriment.

A few days ago, I was thinking about the first time I dabbled in predicting the outcomes of New Hampshire's presidential primaries. It was almost 40 years ago — when I told my friend and mentor, Aunt Bess, that Jimmy Carter would win on the Democratic side and President Ford would narrowly defeat Ronald Reagan on the Republican side. I was right on both counts.

I must have been like a novice investor who hits it big the first time he buys stock in a company — and concludes that it is a breeze to make money on the stock market. I must have concluded that I had some special gift for predicting the outcomes of elections — and was, therefore, stunned when many of my predictions in future years fell flat.

People who hit game–winning home runs in their first–ever at–bats are generally due for big letdowns the next time they step to the plate, and I have had more than my share.

Oh, I have had some successes over the years, but not nearly as many as I probably expected I would have. My subsequent predictions, as I say, haven't always turned out so well, and that losing streak has mostly continued since 1976.

I guess the reason why I have continued to be intrigued by politics is that it always seems that something totally unexpected happens to change the trajectory of a campaign somehow. It may not alter the eventual outcome — although it might — but it may change how resounding that outcome is. Was it decisive? If so — or if not — it may be due to a previously unexpected event.

In hindsight such an event may come to be regarded as preordained. Part of our history having an influential role in our future.

These unforeseen events are never quite the same. I guess they are the most obvious examples of Mark Twain's observation that "History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme."

The death yesterday of Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia has the potential to be such an event.

Supreme Court vacancies don't come around very often, and such vacancies are even more infrequent in presidential election years. Vacancies caused by death are rarer still.

And it is, I suppose, one of the quirks of American history that presidents are seldom asked to select a replacement for a justice whose views were so opposite of the chief executive's. Some are, but Obama, should he choose to go ahead with a nomination, would be an historical rarity.

It has been 28 years since a lame–duck president had to fill a Supreme Court vacancy in a year when his successor would be chosen. That was 1988 when Lewis Powell retired. Ronald Reagan, who nominated Scalia in 1986, appointed Anthony Kennedy to succeed Powell.

Powell had also been nominated during an election year; Richard Nixon picked him to replace FDR appointee Hugo Black in 1972. But Nixon wasn't a lame duck. Quite the opposite, in fact. He was seeking re–election, which he won in a massive landslide later that year.

And Black hadn't died. He had retired — although he did die eight days after his retirement.

(Nixon also nominated William Rehnquist to succeed Eisenhower appointee John Marshall Harlan that year. Harlan, too, was a retiree.)

Some presidents — Carter, for example — never get to nominate a Supreme Court justice. Most get the opportunity to nominate at least one, but their choices are rarely seen as consequential as this one could — and, probably, will — be.

This country is about as evenly divided as it has ever been in my lifetime. My guess is that it really has been that way for at least the last 25 years. Although much has been made of Democrats winning the popular vote in five of the last six presidential elections and the electoral vote in four of the last six, the margins have been much closer than they tended to be even in the second half of the 20th century.

Even when he was re–elected four years ago, Barack Obama had an historically underwhelming performance — perhaps not as bad as George W. Bush in 2004 but hardly the mandate that most re–elected presidents tend to claim. Until the dawn of the 21st century, presidents who won re–election did so by wide margins.

Obama had a lower share of the vote and a lower electoral vote total than he received in winning his first term. Obama was the first president to be re–elected with a lower share of the popular vote than he received the first time around since Andrew Jackson 180 years earlier.

Only one other president — Woodrow Wilson in 1916 — was re–elected with a smaller share of the electoral vote than he won the first time.

Justice Scalia is widely regarded to have been a stable, conservative voice on a closely divided court. Philosophically, it is safe to say that he and Obama did not agree on many things.

Obama now has the opportunity to nominate a replacement. He's been looking for a way to ensure his legacy after he leaves office, and this could be it. Kennedy has largely been identified as the swing vote on a court that is otherwise divided 4–4. If Obama nominates someone whose legal positions support Obama's agenda, that nominee would have the potential to influence court decisions for a generation.

While their potential for long–term influence on court decisions is always acknowledged, Supreme Court vacancies generally are not seen as being overall game changers, but this one could be.

Scalia often observed that he was not a politician. He was a jurist. But it is important to remember that this is a presidential election year, and everything that the lame–duck president does will be perceived politically.

If he chooses to send a liberal nominee to Capitol Hill, it could set off a national political discussion on all sorts of issues as Obama's nominee speaks to the senators who will vote on the nomination. Remember: The majority party in the Senate is Republican, and the Republican Senate is not likely to act on a Democratic lame–duck president's Supreme Court nomination prior to an election.

Obama could nominate a more moderate justice than he might prefer, simply to avoid an embarrassing setback, but that is a risky proposal. A more centrist judge might well take positions in some cases that are contrary to Obama's.

But a more extreme nominee almost certainly would have no chance of being approved by a Republican Senate.

Obama could issue a recess appointment when the Senate is not in session, in which case the Constitution calls for such an appointment to be approved by the Senate before the end of the legislative session. If it isn't approved, it becomes vacant again.

Under the present circumstances, the Senate is likely to remain in session as long as possible, but congressional terms end early in January, and Congress will not be in session until the presidential inauguration.

Obama would have roughly 2½ weeks to make a recess appointment before his successor is sworn in. A recess appointment probably would prove to be a temporary solution, but that would depend on other things that are likely to be discussed in the next 8½ months. Whether Obama announces his nominee before or after the election could become a big issue when voters go to the polls — along with the positions such a nominee is likely to take on cases involving the most pressing issues of our time.

That, I suppose, will depend on how many Americans recognize the impact that Scalia's successor can have on their lives. It will be interesting to see just how many that is — and to hear the discussion it sparks.

That could be the real game changer.

Friday, April 24, 2009

A Simple Twist of Fate


Randy (right) and me standing in front of
a beer garden in St. Louis in 1987.


Lately, it seems, this blog has been more devoted to personal matters than I would prefer, but I guess it's part of my nature to write about things when they happen. And I am reminded these days of how much is beyond my control.

This is my default position, I suppose.

Anyway, I received word that my best friend since high school, Randy, is in the hospital. He had a heart attack.

His ex–wife tells me his condition is stable, and the doctors haven't decided on his treatment yet.

It is a time of great awareness for me, I guess. The economy has already made me aware — along with millions of others — of my vulnerability. So many of life's events, most of which seemed, for so long, to be the domain of people in my parents' generation, have become part of my life and the lives of the people with whom I grew up.

People in my age group have been married, had kids, been divorced, lost parents. Some have lost siblings. Some have lost children.

And now, although I tend to associate heart attacks with people who are much older than Randy and I, my best friend has had one. Proof, perhaps, that anything can happen to anyone at any time, and preconceived notions mean little — if anything.

My thoughts keep returning to the days when Randy and I were in high school, working on a college campus maintenance crew in the summers. We've had many laughs together over the years, reminiscing about some of the things we had to do when we were 16 and 17. There were many things that we did for $2/hour in those days that we wouldn't dream of doing today, we assured each other — and, if we were coerced into doing those things now, we certainly would not do them for $2/hour!

In those days, our work shifts began at 7 a.m. I had access to a car, so I picked Randy up around 6:50, and we would drive to work. After work, Randy and I would go to his house or to mine. We would listen to the popular music of the day, and we would talk about the kinds of things that teenagers talk about — girls and cars, mostly.

Randy used to accompany me on my weekly visits to an elderly friend of mine, Aunt Bess, of whom I wrote last fall on the 20th anniversary of her death. She always got a kick out of us — two young men about to embark on an uncertain journey into adulthood.

In hindsight, I guess we were like most kids. We didn't think much about the future. We were focused on the here and now. That, I guess, is the great thing about being a teenager. It's all in front of you. You can still be anything.

But, when you get older, you become things — spouse, parent, employee. Choices are fewer. Responsibilities are greater. So are the pressures.

I hope this heart attack will not be debilitating, that it can serve as a second chance for Randy. I hope it inspires him to make wise choices. A couple of decades ago, Randy and his wife made me the godfather to their daughter. She now has a child of her own. I hope he will live to dance at his grandson's wedding — and, if his grandson follows the family tradition, Randy will still be in his 60s when that day comes.

Perhaps adjustments in Randy's lifestyle will make the difference. I don't know. But I hope so.

I still feel too young to lose my best friend.

Wednesday, October 22, 2008

For Whom the Bell Tolls

Late last month, unnoticed by most of the world because it was reported at the same time as actor Paul Newman’s death, a 110-year-old woman named Alexina Calvert passed away.

Calvert was the oldest living person in Scotland — a title which, obviously, has now been passed along to someone else.

But, while a 110-year lifespan is quite an achievement, she did not live longer than everyone whose dates of birth and death can be documented. A French woman who died in 1997 holds that distinction, having lived more than 122 years.

The news of Calvert’s death caught my attention because she was born around the time my maternal grandmother was — Calvert was born in 1898, my grandmother was born in 1897.

I saw a picture of Calvert that was almost eerie in its resemblance to my grandmother.

And I saw other parallels between Calvert and my grandmother. Calvert’s husband died in 1973; my grandfather died in 1969. Neither Calvert nor my grandmother remarried.

My grandmother lived a long life — although, when compared to Calvert’s life, it doesn’t seem as long as it was. My grandmother was 91 when she died of Alzheimer’s disease.

Like anyone who lives to be more than 100 years old, Calvert frequently was asked the secret of her longevity.

"I never thought I would live as long but I have been lucky," she said last year. "I’ve had quite good health and I don’t drink."

Not drinking isn’t the secret for everyone, of course. I’ve heard other people who claimed that the secret of their longevity was a glass of wine or a bottle of beer with every evening meal.

And I’ve even heard occasional tales of centenarians who claimed that smoking actually helped them live longer. I’m sure they (and George Burns) were the exceptions to the rule.

But I suppose it’s really the luck of the draw.

My mother, for example, neither smoked nor drank (at least to excess — she did enjoy an occasional glass of wine) and she walked a couple of miles daily for exercise, but she lost her life when she was 63. She was caught in a flash flood and drowned.

That's a reminder, I guess, that even if someone seems to do all the right things, fate can still intervene and deprive that person of a lengthy life.

One need look no further than John F. Kennedy Jr. for evidence of that.

I don't know if he had any addictions, like smoking or drinking too much. He was born the year after I was, and, until I was nearly 40, it seemed "John-John" was "The One" America was waiting for.

Wealthy, handsome, well educated and articulate, he was the crown prince and the rest of us were merely waiting for him to reach the age that would be appropriate to reclaim the throne.

But in July 1999, after the private plane he was piloting crashed and killed him at the age of 38, along with his wife and his sister-in-law, his Uncle Ted observed that "like his father, he had every gift but length of years."

I grew up in a town that was about 300 miles from my grandmothers' homes, and I only saw them at holidays (like Thanksgiving and Christmas) and during the summers. My father's mother died in a rest home when I was 16. My maternal grandmother also died in a rest home, but I was nearly 30 when she died.

As a child, I was always a bit jealous of my friends whose grandparents lived nearby. It always seemed to me that they had a closeness with their grandparents that I didn't have.

Aunt Bess filled that void in my life.

When I was a teenager, I was in the habit of visiting a lady known in the community as "Aunt Bess" after school for about an hour on Wednesday afternoons.

I got to know her around the time I got my driver’s license. My house was a few miles beyond the outskirts of the town, and Aunt Bess lived along my route home from school. So it was easy to stop by and see her.

Her son was a local celebrity — he had gone to California and had become the host of a nationally televised morning game show that was on the air for a few years.

He brought his family to my town for visits from time to time. One summer, when I was about 15, my family became acquainted with Aunt Bess and her family during one of those visits.

Initially, I became friends with Aunt Bess’ grandson, Joe. After Aunt Bess' family had returned to the coast, my parents gave me permission to fly to California to visit Joe for a week.

What a week that was! Joe borrowed his father’s car for our use, and we went cruising along the Pacific coast several times (including more than a few stops along California's beaches, mainly to do some girl watching). We visited Disneyland and Knott’s Berry Farm, and one day we went to the TV studio to watch his father tape a week’s worth of game shows.

It was after I returned from that trip that I really got to know Aunt Bess and we started our regular Wednesday routine.

We talked about everything when I came over to her house on those afternoons. We began by sitting down with something to drink — usually a glass of iced tea or Coca-Cola. If Aunt Bess had something to nibble on — like cookies or cake or perhaps an apple — we would share a late afternoon snack.

I would tell her about things we were studying in school, and she would tell me about her friends at church. We talked about current events — and, during football season, we talked about the Razorbacks.

I don’t recall why we picked Wednesday to be the day I paid my weekly visit. Wednesday evenings usually were busy for Aunt Bess. Devoutly religious, she attended her Baptist church services every Wednesday night. She also taught Sunday school for many, many years.

I guess it goes without saying that her devotion to her faith was almost legendary in the church congregation. In fact, it is my understanding that, after she died, the church named a meeting room in her memory.

The time limitation provided a structure for our get-togethers, though. School adjourned at 3:30, and we knew we had to finish our visit by about 5 o’clock to give Aunt Bess enough time to dress for church.

So I often planned ahead of time the things I wanted to talk about. Because of that, Aunt Bess used to tease me, telling me I was "methodical."

Like my real grandmothers, Aunt Bess is no longer with us. As a matter of fact, she died 20 years ago today.

We sort of lost touch in the last years of her life. I don't know if she developed a terminal illness, like my grandmothers, and had to move to a rest home or into her son's home, or if she just died unexpectedly.

It's one of those things I don't know, one of those things I will never know.

I can only hope.

I never told her (in so many words) what an influence she was on my life. I can only hope she knew anyway.

I hope I learned all the life lessons Aunt Bess wanted to teach me.

And I hope she rests in peace.