CHARGE OF THE OLD SOLDIERS

            Most neighborhoods had a kid like, oh, let’s call him Bobby. 

He was the kid who, while maybe not wealthy per se, was still a little better off than you. At Halloween he trick-or-treated in a store-bought costume while you wore a threadbare sheet with scissors-cut eyeholes. At the movies he bought the big tub of popcorn which in a spirit of noblesse oblige he might (or might not) share with you.

But the most infuriating thing about Bobby was the power one kid had over the rest of the kids. When they played basketball he called the shots. Because he owned the basketball and if he didn’t get his way he’d just take it home and nobody got to play.

In case you ever wondered what happened to Bobby (and his bratty sister Brenda) they grew up to be hard-core republican congressmen and women. Now a clutch of them have the people of the United States over a barrel. They want their way and if they don’t get it, well they’re just going to take their basketball and go home.

In their wake the national government has been crippled, parts of it sputtering to a halt. People can’t get into national parks and monuments. That’s sad. Head Start kids can’t get into class and workers can’t be paid the money they earned. That’s tragic.

Recently a few men refused to put up with it. World War II veterans they came to the capital of the nation they had defended. Looking at their craggy faces I was reminded of a book/movie titled WE WERE SOLDIERS ONCE AND YOUNG. Upon their arrival they were told they could not visit their own monument.

They didn’t return to the bus. Instead they lined up in wheelchairs and on crutches and canes and charged, pushing aside the barricades. If any national park rangers resisted I suspect they didn’t resist very hard. Even a few congressmen, sensing a photo-op, came out with appropriately sympathetic expressions.

When Daughter (who is of voting age) asked me what could be done about all this I had to tell her I don’t know. I only wish we had congressmen/women like Jefferson Smith. In congress Smith’s pet cause was a camp for poor youngsters “in the Western outdoors.” Asked for his philosophy he answered, “…looking out for the other fella.”

Unfortunately Jefferson Smith was a fictional character played by Jimmy Stewart in the 1939 movie MR. SMITH GOES TO WASHINGTON. If he were to exist today I imagine House Speaker John Boehner, R-Ohio, would find him quaint and probably a little laughable.

I’ve only met one congressman in the flesh. He was a rock-ribbed, hard edge republican on a quick district visit to show the flag. After a staff-written speech he stood briefly in the parking lot while people asked him questions. Some he answered; some he didn’t.

I had a question. While I asked he looked at me for maybe three seconds, then through me for three seconds as if I wasn’t even there. Before I could finish my question he turned away without a word and, surrounded by aides in expensive suits, got into an expensive car. Today he is retired with a nice pension. His son (of the same name) runs the family business now, so to speak.

I’m sure I slipped from his memory within moments. But thirty years later I remember his arrogance. That’s what voters do. We remember. Something some congress people might want to remember themselves.

Dad out.