I was to meet U.S. House Democratic Leader Dick Gephardt one Saturday last term in Durham, N.H., at a brief little Young Dems function ("join us for coffee and danish," the flyer said. "Great," thought I, "another fund-raising 'coffee klatsch!'"). Bright and early that morning, two other Dems and I drove down there, hoping to soak up some juicy political radiance (or at least to add another story to my repertoire of "not-quite-amazing-but-kinda-exciting" tales). Ready with my own premeditated question to ask Gephardt, I was poised to encounter the man ... himself.
Stepping into the house of Senator Katie Wheeler, I felt like an eager, formally-dressed fish in an important pond. First to shake our hands as we came in the door was Congressman Pat Kennedy. Not being able to name nor recognize all Kennedys on sight, I had no idea who he was, guessing maybe ... the Wheeler's 20-something-year-old son?
After mingling for a few minutes, Mrs. Wheeler led us to the living room, where we sat down to listen to Gephardt's little speech. Kennedy gave the introductory speech for Gephardt, and thereby identified himself (boy, did I feel a little ignorant!). A good orator, Kennedy came off as funny, and fresh with youthful enthusiasm, almost too good-natured to be a real congressman. He touched upon the topic of my question, the new federal welfare laws, against which he and Gephardt had voted to no avail.
Gephardt spoke for a few minutes, first reciprocally complimenting Kennedy, then going on to address other issues. The recurring theme of his brief speech was that, given the current Republican-dominated Congress, a whole slew of "family-friendly" policies which he supported would not be passed. Even though his words didn't really move me, there was a certain solid presence he had as he spoke: so clean-cut, so sanguine and optimistic, and above all, so careful in his words.
As he ended the speech, Mrs. Wheeler told us there was time for just two questions for Gephardt. Immediately my hand shot up, nervous as I was to interact with this slick man who held our attention. I was granted the floor for the final question; my body and voice shaking a little, and feeling as if within the energy field of a major politician, I stood and spoke my piece:
"Mr. Gephardt, my question pertains to a provision in the new welfare laws. My grandfather has been in a nursing home for the mentally-ill for the past two years, and so has depended heavily on Medicaid payments. As of August, he stands to lose all his benefits because he's a non-citizen, legal alien. What do you think ... the prospects are for ... the federal government attempting to (my voice trailed off here) change this ... unfortunate law?"
If you read my column Winter term, ["Socioeconomic Justice First," Feb. 20, 1997] you'll remember my criticism of this controversial bill, from the moment I first read about it. Over spring break, my parents told me, "Remember that column you wrote? That's what's happening to grandfather right now." I was quite dismayed to find that my editorial had come home in a most unwelcome way, and here was my chance to see how a real politician would deal with this issue.
Now, I'd intended to maintain eye contact with him the whole time, and opt for the more dramatic, "When will the government rectify the wrongs caused by this law?" But my message was well-taken, and he nodded understandingly before answering. First, he had Kennedy give an account of that part of the welfare law: Kennedy gave a firsthand account of how Congressman Clay Shaw (R, of course!) devised this law without thinking through its implications for nursing-home residents and others.
Gephardt reiterated the point, calling the bill, "Politics at its worst," and they both stood firmly opposed to the foul workings of the Republican majority.
After the speech, I went up and shook Gephardt's hand, and I was shaking a little again. That empathetic grip, the steadfast, understanding gaze in his eyes, the humble, tender demeanor he had ... these things must be practiced for years before they reach such a finely-honed level as that attained by Gephardt. As I explained how my earlier editorial had come home, he held on to my hand the whole time, and kept saying, "Yup. Yup. Yup," but it sounded unmistakably like, "Thank you. I understand."
That weekend (and Monday) I scanned newspaper headlines and websites for some mention of the event, but of course it was far too obscure to grace the webpage of CNN or the Times. Still, I had my moment of real-time insight into the craft of politics.
