PeterGlenshaw.com

A Fast Moving Fall

About a month ago, just as the kids returned to school and the pace of activity began to increase at work, I began to worry about the month of September.

Sure, there was some stuff I knew to expect.  The slower pace of summer in northern New England gives way, suddenly and dramatically, to the hectic Fall schedule, when it's not just kids in schools but adults in their jobs and in their civic affairs returning to a long list of unfinished tasks and new demands.  September comes, and it sometimes feels as though your neck has been snapped back with all of the email, phone calls, agendas, and to-do items in your planner.

But this September seemed even more ominous.  I worried that a good many companies would be reporting third quarter earnings.  I knew the Presidential race, and all of the other down-ballot races, would intensify.  And sports -- that quiet metronome of middle class life -- would quicken with the end of the baseball season and the start of football. 

September comes, and away goes the smell of suntan lotion, the lull of summer days, and the quiet chirping of crickets at night.  It's suddenly cool and intense, quicker and a bit darker everywhere.

Of course, I had no idea September 2008 would be this rocky.  I watched the Dow collapse yesterday afternoon over the course of a couple of meetings.  Every time I refreshed my Internet browser yesterday, the Dow seemed to lose another 50 points.  A week ago, I came home after a long day that began at 7am and end at 10pm, only to find the the nation's largest savings & loan (Washington Mutual) had collapsed and been sold by the Feds.  Try reading that news on an empty stomach on a Thursday night at 10pm. 

My generation of working adults has been incredibly lucky, maybe ridiculously so, in terms of their economic fortunes.  Shortly after I entered the work force, the stock market collapse of 1987 occurred, but I was too green and naive to understand its meaning or, frankly, to feel its effect.  The day I moved to Boston in August 1990, the headline of The New York Times read, "Recession Hits New England."  I remember competing for temp jobs with laid-off workers from Bank of New England that Fall, and ultimately feeling very fortunate to get a job with Harvard before the snow fell that year.  But even that recession was pretty mild.  My family and I moved to northern New England in 2000, and I was focused on the entrepreneurial economy for much of my early career at Dartmouth.  That Winter and Spring of 2000-2001 was pretty bleak for entrepreneurs, no doubt, but nothing compared to what we see now.

The past 30 days have been nothing short of extraordinary in terms of fast-moving national, economic, and political events.  As an amateur blogger who tries to find time in the corners of the day or night to write a few semi-coherent sentences, it's been almost impossible to keep-up with the news, let alone consider or write a reasonable reflection in the past few weeks.  One could easily apply the term "roller-coaster" to September 2008, but even such a term would hardly convey the sense of genuine danger, apprehension, and uncertainty which exists among some many Americans today.  As a writer, and as a person, it's feels very strange -- as if we are in fast moving stream whose dimension and dangerous changes daily. 

And so, at night, when I tuck my kids into bed, or in the evening as we chat over dinner, I find myself wondering what to say about all of this turbulence.  I've shared a few comments and shown them a few headlines from the newspaper, but no matter what I share or say, nothing quite captures the uncertainty in my heart, or how that uncertainty ought to translate to them.

Aside from not wanting to worry them unnecessarily, part of this reticence also comes from not knowing myself what lies ahead.  If past is prologue, what will October 2008 be like?

None of us really know, but in such times I find comfort and reassurance in small things.  The chatter over breakfast.  Laughter about a cartoon.  Pride in a good grade.  Complaints about my cooking.  Indeed, in extraordinary times, the ordinary thing stands apart.  Not as a false beacon of hope or encouragement, but as a reminder of both our humanity and of the small things which matter alongside the big things of the day. 

I toss the ball to my dog at night.  He retrieves it.  I toss the ball again. 

None of these simple joys change our economy, or our politics, or the prognosis for reforms that will ensure that the majority of Americans -- and indeed, the citizens of the world -- will see a better future. 

All it does is keep me, and maybe a few other people, in the realm of hope.  And in season such as this one, maybe that's enough.

Politics and the Search for American Identity

Let's get the obvious of the way.

Barack Obama is going to win the Presidential election in November 2008.  The issues dominating this race, and the desires of most voters, point to a solid Democratic victory in November.  Everyone knows the race will be tight and hard fought, but I believe that's how the election will ultimately conclude.

Stepping back from the immediate concerns of polls and pundits and campaign ads,  though, this election will also conclude what seems to have been a genuine search for American identity in the 21st century world.

At some level, of course, this is not surprising.  America's global reputation in the face of Iraq War is at an all-time low.  For the first time in 40 years, the Presidential race was wide open as neither party could offer an incumbent as their nominee.  For two years, and over the course of many debates and many more meaningful caucuses and primary elections than has previously occurred ever in American history, the nation's citizens argued and debated about which candidates best reflected the identity they sought for themselves and the nation.

This search was most easily seen in the Democratic race, whose breadth and strength of candidates (with one or two exceptions) permitted a year-long conversation that relied less on issues of policy or capability, and more on personal narrative.  Obama's campaign was largely based on this, at least tactically, but I'd argue that each of the candidates also spent significantly more time connecting their story to the times and needs of the nation today.  Think of Chris Dodd and his father's experience in Nuremburg, or John Edward's ever-present milltown memories, or Bill Richardson's intertwining of Hispanic and Western America.   

The Democrats also had a second act, a debate that grew more intense with each passing month.  Hillary Clinton's failure to win the nomination owes much, I'd argue, to her inability to have a consistent personal story about herself.  Every month there was a new theme to her campaign and a new story to tell about herself, whereas Obama remained consistent throughout the campaign.  In the final three months, she finally found her genuine story, one that resonated with voters and the nation, a story that emphasized "Hillary" instead of "Hillary Clinton."  It was too late for the campaign, but the resonance of her story remains.

The approach of the Republicans -- reeling from the disastrous and disingenuous Bush presidency -- was less direct than Democrat's search, but in the end, the result was very familiar.  McCain won because no one else had as consistent a story.  McCain was a war hero with a history of faithful service to the nation and the Republican party.  Full stop.  Like their Democratic counterparts, the Republicans candidates who failed in their quest for the nomination did so because their identities and stories were inconsistent.

Rudy Giuliani? A 9-11 hero, yes, but a conservative hypocrite on values.  Mitt Romney?  A strong executive, yes, but a man uncomfortable with his religion in the public domain and unable to show whether he had changed Massachusetts or it changed him as governor.  Mike Huckabee's early success in the primaries was entirely due to his emphasis on narrative, and the consistency of it.  He was the preacher from Arkansas who lost a lot of weight, could tell a joke, and liked rock and roll.  Not enough of a story to capture the hearts and minds of the nation going forward, but it was great opening act.

The attention paid Sarah Palin during the last two weeks also comes from the weight this election has placed on personal narrative and its relationship to American identity.  The McCain team has put everything about Palin, in fact, thru this prism of memoir (bear hunter, mother of five, hockey mom, etc).  The risk for the McCain camp is, of course, what if the Palin story isn't true or consistent?   

Staunch anti-conservative on values?  Not with a unwed teenage daughter who is pregnant.  Against earmarks?  Not after she took millions for her town and state.  Sold the plane on eBay?  Not only did she sell it elsewhere, she sold it for a loss.

The issue of consistency is vital to any narrative, and in that regard, I'd argue that Sarah Palin's early success owes as much to John Edward's horrible revelation before the Democratic National Convention as it does to her own story.

Edward's admission of an affair completely undid his entire narrative in one move.  Gone was the politician who could tell the story of a son of mill workers who worked hard, made a lot of money protecting the most vulnerable in our society, raised a family, and suffered personal losses and tragedies, the latest and most public of which involved the cancer of his wife, Elizabeth.  With his affair, Edwards's story completely changed from one of service to self-service.  Worse still, particularly among less partisan voters, the new Edwards identity confirmed their worst suspicions about politicians in general (read Giuliani) and about Democrats lately (read Clinton).

Throughout the Democratic convention, the stink from the Edwards story lingered.  At one gathering of New Hampshire Democrats, activists shook their heads over the Edwards saga.  "Can you imagine if he was our nominee now, and this came out?" one person told me.  The implication was clear.  Never mind that John Edwards opposes the Iraq war, wants health care for all, and supports dramatic energy and environment reform, all of which most voters support, too.  Had he been the nominee and then announced his affair, his campaign and the Democrats would have been finished.

Obama and McCain will have three more chances to tell their story to the American public.  With the race seemingly tied, the Presidential debates -- the first debate occurs in less than two weeks -- looms even larger and more consequential in deciding the outcome of this race.  It will be a chance to hear not only about policy, but I think in the minds of most voters, it will be a chance to a hear two very capable politicians tell their story.  Will it be the war hero who as a politican has tacked back-and-forth from maverick to faithful Republican?  Or the Illinois senator whose global, multi-racial story has been the bedrock of his campaign, and who can speak better than anyone else on the trail?  These are two excellent choices, but I think the man from the land of Lincoln will prevail.

Sarah Palin's Choice

There's been a lot written about Governor Sarah Palin in the last five days since she was chosen by Senator John McCain to be his choice as Vice Presidential nominee.

As might be expected, much of the attention has gone into the choice itself -- how it was made, what this choice reflects about John McCain and a potential McCain presidency, and of course what kind of choices (and possible President) Sarah Palin would be.

And while much of the critical commentary has focused on McCain, my own interest has rested on Sarah Palin herself.  By all accounts, her political views are strikingly similar to George Bush in their clarity, simplicity, and conservatism.  She favors big oil (including drilling in ANWAR), believes the Iraq war is part of God's plan, opposes a woman's right to choose, favors big federal earmarks for pet projects, and believes creationism should be taught alongside evolution.  Like Dick Cheney, Palin's politics is emblematic of a breed of western Republicanism that is perfectly out-of-step with the needs of the nation today.  And, as more details about her managerial and executive skills emerge, she seems increasingly like former Attorney General Alberto Gonzalez -- an ideologue whose executive incompetence is masked by their enthusiasm and loyalty to the cause.

So, at least politically, I think it's clear that Governor Palin would be a disaster.  As a result, I'm much more interested in Palin as a person.  Much has been written about her life and the choices she's made, on everything from her husband to the names of her kids.  Whatever.  I'm sure people can find plenty of nits (or worse) if they examined my life and choices.  Even so, one particular personal choice by Palin stands apart.

Like many, I have not been enamored of her decision to force a shotgun wedding on her 17 year-old daughter, let alone the choice to pursue the job of Vice President knowing full well that it would expose her daughter to the national media.   But as distasteful as that choice might be for me personally, I recognize that political leaders often make political choices with personal consequences that I might not find acceptable.

What's harder to understand about Governor Palin involves the one very recent personal choice she made that seemed to have nothing to do with politics.  I write, of course, about her choice -- while 8 months pregnant, leaking amniotic fluid, and in modest contractions -- to 1) delay departure from a business meeting in Houston, TX, in order to give the keynote luncheon address at an energy conference, and then 2) fly the rest of the day from Houston to Seattle and Anchorage, and then drive an additional hour to Wasilla where she gave birth some 24 hours after first experiencing labor pains. 

Wha?

I'm no doctor, but as someone who has been completely involved in the birth of our three kids, including a hair-raising two-hour ride from the Maine seacoast to Boston while my wife was in labor with our oldest, Hannah, I've gotten to know one or two things about pregnancy.  Attend enough ultrasound and amnio appointments, and pretty soon one small but important fact emerges: if there's any leaking of that fluid, especially in late-term pregnancy, go immediately to the nearest hospital. 

Do not waste time giving speeches, do not travel across several time zones, or drive  from the big city of Anchorage to your adopted hometown regional medical center.  In fact, I think those are the precise instructions being given to thousands of women and men across America in the last five days who are involved in a late-term pregnancy.  Whatever you do, parents to-be, please don't be like Sarah Palin.

But in this article from the Alaska Daily News in April in 2008, Palin rejected that advice.  Her view was that she had a speech to give, and nothing was going to get in the way of her keynote.  So, instead of going to the hospital when she woke up at 4am with leaking amniotic fluid, she stayed in Houston, gave the luncheon speech, and then traveled another 12 hours by plane before giving birth.

It might be heartening in a weird way to see conservatives suddenly embrace unwed mothers, but the mom who is Sarah Palin must be considered thru the lense of her odd choices.  As a politician, her record is clear and unambiguously hard-core conservative (check-out these answers from her 2006 gubernatorial campaign), with a record of devise political tactics.  As a Mom, faced with an important health choice, she chose professional ambition first.

Or maybe, it was something more trivial than ambition.

Texas was not a desirable place for the Governor of Alaska to have a child.  As her husband, Todd -- the part-time fisherman, oilman, and snow mobiler -- said it, "You can't have a fish picker from Texas."