Making things happen
... with integrity
Monday September 6, 2004 Volume VI Number 36
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by Ken Kemp |
ust coming off two weeks of Olympic competition, we’ve been exposed to an overload of peak performances. One after another, athletes stood at the starting line or on the court or in the field at the ready, and in one moment’s effort, culminated a lifetime of preparation in hope of Olympic glory - all those hopes and dreams that brought them here, now on the starting line hanging in the balance. The drama was enough to hold our attention throughout the whole contest. Unforgettable stories emerged. Heroes and villains. Heart warming victories and heart breaking defeats. Plenty of each.
As the summer ends, the closing of the games, the extinguishing of the Torch became a prelude to a second political event.
Like the Democrat Convention, the networks, ever mindful of equal-time provisions, limited its coverage for the Republican Convention. If you wanted to see more, you had to switch to cable. If you are a purist, you could even tune in to C-Span, and check out the program without the assistance of talking heads offering perpetual interpretation and spin. Or, weary of this particularly nasty campaign, you may well have chosen to stick with the network’s regular and non-political programming, or even a good book.
The world where I live is, well, Bush friendly. Not that
our neighborhood is some sort of homogeneous bland community of true blue
Republicans. Au contraire. We’re diverse. We’ve got people on both
ends of the political spectrum, and a bunch who defy standard political
categories and generally we all get along pretty well. I think we put our
political leanings in perspective – we don’t let the debate drive a wedge
between family, friends and neighbors. We poke fun, tease, cajole – but at the
end of the day, we’re community. We’re Americans.
This summer, as we traveled, we visited some of those places where “the W” is in the cross-hairs. He’s the target of ridicule, scorn and contempt. As you walk the streets, check out the titles in the book-store windows, read the bumper-stickers and flyers tacked on the power-poles, you get the sense that if you “come out” and suggest that perhaps, well, you appreciate the President’s leadership in protecting the nation from the schemes of terror, well, you’d better brace yourself. You’ll be a target, too.
So, on the road, we found plenty of evidence that the political wrangling has its roots in real communities. When the polls suggest that some of us are on this side, the rest of us are on that side – it’s pretty accurate. There is a great divide.
I guess the secret of our strength is that we talk about it. We debate. We have our favorite talking heads and spin-masters, and we also love to talk about the guys on the other side who ought to have their heads examined. But we don’t shoot each other. We are not subject to the whims of a tyrant. We are free to speak, write, argue – and we believe that somehow we’ll be the better for it.
We often hear them call it “the most important speech of his entire life.” This would be the current speech, which will determine a political destiny. We come to the moment of that speech with the same anticipation as when Olympian arrives in search of the Gold.
In the case of George W. Bush and his acceptance speech, observers tell us that he never prepared with more determination, intentionality or vigor. He increased the physical demands of his regular workout routines. He ran farther. Lifted heavier weights with more repetition. He pedaled on the stationary bike longer. He wrote and re-wrote drafts. He called in advisors. Coaches. Some even noted that he worked to change his stride – aware that the swagger element in his step sent the wrong message. He wanted it fixed. He rehearsed. He worked diction and phrasing – until the speech rolled naturally and convincingly at a predetermined pace. It was like Tiger Woods re-tooling his golf-swing.
Candidates know that their audience will never be larger, or more interested in every nuance.
So
when President Bush took the stage for the speech of his life, he was ready.
Some wondered how he might do in theatre-in-the-round. Others questioned the
presence of the Presidential Seal on the floor, covering the entire circle of
the stage. (Would this invoke the “Mission Accomplished” furor from the
carrier deck?) Would he see the teleprompter? Would he wander around with a
kind of Texan swagger? Did the prior speakers, like Miller and Schwarzenegger,
raise the bar of exhilaration too high, dwarfing the Presidential effort?
Pundits wanted to know.
I guess I did, too.
Following a stirring video survey of George Bush’s public career, the music played, the red-white-and-blue waved, and the candidate appeared to cheering legions. Gone the swagger. He appeared ready.
It was the close that I’ll remember most.
The finish, after a lengthy speech, was signaled by a couple of self-deprecating remarks. He said -
You may have noticed I have a few flaws, too. People sometimes have to correct my English.
I knew I had a problem when Arnold Schwarzenegger started doing it.
Some folks look at me and see a certain swagger, which in Texas is called "walking."
Now and then I come across as a little too blunt, and for that we can all thank the white-haired lady sitting right up there.
Barbara Bush, the President’s mother, broke up laughing
from her seat up there in the gallery. And then he noted something else about
leadership – your weaknesses, they will be noticed, he pointed out. And
your
strengths? “You’re gunna need them.”
But then he turned personal. He talked about how the job necessarily put him in the company of those who knew tragic loss. The families if the victims of 9/11. The families of soldiers who lost their lives in the conflict in Iraq and other hot-spots around the globe.
He went to offer the nation’s comfort and support. But an amazing thing happened, he said. The very people to whom he reached out, reached back out to him. They responded, “Mr. President, we are praying for you.” They offered reciprocal care. They showed compassion to him.
It was, granted, a rhetorical question. But it prompted the President as he spoke, seeming to forget the moment, to get lost in the wonder of it all. “Where does this kind of strength come from?” he asked.
And as he did, he choked.
In my world, people who say yes to missions invariably encounter the same paradox. They go to help, to minister, in hopes as good Americans, to fix. But somewhere in the process, they realize that roles become absolutely reversed. The people whose needs prompted the call and the will to go end up ministering to those who were sent. The healing goes both ways. It has been well said, it is in giving that we receive.
And so for the President during his tenure.
These four years have brought moments I could not foresee and will not forget. I've tried to comfort Americans who lost the most on September the 11th: people who showed me a picture or told me a story so I would know how much was taken from them.
I have learned first-hand that ordering Americans into battle is the hardest decision even when it is right. I have returned the salute of wounded soldiers, some with a very tough road ahead, who say they were just doing their job. I've held the children of the fallen who are told their dad or mom is a hero, but would rather just have their dad or mom.
I've met with parents and wives and husbands who have received a folded flag and said a final goodbye to a soldier they loved. I am awed that so many have used those meetings to say that I am in their prayers and to offer encouragement to me.
Where does that strength like that come from? How can people so burdened with sorrow also feel such pride? It is because they know their loved one was last seen doing good because they know that liberty was precious to the one they lost.
And in those military families, I have seen the character of a great nation: decent and idealistic and strong.
George Bush spoke from the heart. His voice, quivering. Welling up with emotion at the memory, he stood witness to the strength of the best in human character. It is born of adversity. It is the heart of what is good and right in a nation.
Some may have doubted the sincerity of the moment. But that would be a cynical view. I believe that it was these words, a window into George Bush’s soul, that are primarily responsible for the considerable post-convention “bounce.”
Zell Miller put it this way, “I have knocked on the door of this man's soul and found someone home; a God-fearing man with a good heart and a spine of tempered steel.”
* * * * * * *
It’s Monday morning. You are a leader.
Sometimes, you need to lead with your heart. People who care about you need to see it. Sometimes, a catch in the throat is what will point to a level purity, a degree of honesty, and a measure of openness that will relay something of the real passion you harbor in your soul.
If you fake it, we’ll all know. But if it’s genuine, we’ll know that too. So will your people. So will your family. So will your spouse.
I wrote some years ago about “the Catch in the Throat.” It’s a curious phenomenon. It’s been happening to me more often recently.
Maybe it’s because I’m getting older. Maybe it’s because I understand better these days what it is I truly care about.
If someone knocked on the door of your soul, would they find anyone home? I think they would.
Have you felt that warm knot forming somewhere in your throat, a tightening that keeps the words from flowing freely and triggers involuntary moisture somewhere on the outer edges of your eyes?
It means you’re getting somewhere close to the truth.
It’s there you ought to listen.
You’re finding out who you really are.
Posted in Valley Center, California
© Copyright Kenneth E. Kemp 2004
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