ALL IN: Race for the White House (14 page)

She said, “It’s breathtaking, thank you for showing me your big sky and for spending this time with me. I’m glad I had this chance to get to know you better.”

“Lexi, can I tell you a story someone told me?”

“Yes, I’d love that.”

“There was a wealthy man who had inherited vast fortunes passed down through generations. The family lineage had gathered riches beyond the imagination. Over the years as the man aged, he became arrogant and felt he deserved all his wealth and possessions. He felt privilege was his birthright and that he was entitled, even noble. He had many extravagant homes, traveled the world, and spared no expense as to his own comforts. He would sometimes pass by the poor on his way, but thought them pitiful and insignificant. He built walls around his property and took great care to protect the things he owned. He ate the finest foods, prepared by award-winning chefs he kept along with continual staff at each of his residences. He had been taught by his father to take generous care of his own family and lavished them with gifts. He treated each to the privilege he thought they, like himself, deserved. He didn’t pray and felt religion was for the weak and that he was sufficient of himself, after all hadn’t he everything the world could provide? Occasionally, to appease his wife or daughter, he would give a token gift to the poor, but he never felt it would do any good and privately thought it foolish to waste on outsiders.”
 

“In old age, he became resentful thinking his own family ungrateful for the life he provided them. He continually complained about how unworthy they all were. Years before he had written off all but his own children. He would grumble that without him to guard it, they would squander their inheritance. He was bitter. One evening as was his custom, he had a bottle of the finest wine, costing more than a laborer’s yearly salary, delivered to his library. He waited for a generous pour and then waved off his attendant. He clipped the end of an expensive cigar, lit it, then whiffed the sweet burning aroma and then drew from it his final breath.”

“Oh, that sounds terrible,” Lexi said, snuggling closer to me, still wrapped up, with my arm around her.
 

I continued, “All of the sudden, with no breath to breathe out, there was nothing. He looked, but without eyes to see - he was in total darkness. He felt without a body to feel it was ice cold. He heard no sound and could not taste or smell. His very soul, fading into oblivion, he felt lost, desperately alone in profound darkness, afraid. In utter despair, he cried out with no voice mentally screaming into the void, his whole life passing through his mind in an instant. He saw his mother and crying out in her memory the prayer, she taught him as a child.

‘
Jesus, gentle shepherd hear me
,’ and before he could finish the beginning Jesus scooped him up and carried him. He felt a relief and a love he had never known.
 

The rich man awoke lying on the floor to his attendant who was trying to help him. ‘Oh my God, father, please forgive me,’ was all he could say. He told the person who had tried to revive him, now seeing him as a gentle brother, ‘I was lost in the most desperate place, what saved me was….’ he carefully spoke the prayer, ‘Jesus, gentle shepherd hear me, guide Thy little lamb tonight, through the darkness be thou near me, keep me till the morning light.’
 

“Jack, it’s a wonderful story.”

“I tell it because I think even in our darkest hour if we call out to Jesus he will save us. It’s Christmas Eve, Lexi, and the real celebration is - in addition to all God has given us, he sent his only son. I think human beings can do better.”

“Do you think the rich are like in the story?” She asked.

“It’s complicated - we’re all guilty of this type of thinking. It’s human nature to consider one’s own needs first; throughout history there is plenty of proof. Armies have fought and millions have died in the last 50 years defending selfish interests. We have to work within our broken system.”
 

Lexi asked, “How, Jack?”
 

“You can count on the wealthy in this country to act in self- interest. Once they know we’re dead serious, they’ll begin to make massive investments in energy production for fear of being left out. Workers will be needed, wages will be bid up, and land values will increase. Cheap energy will make it viable to produce here again. Higher employment and wages will increase demand and we’ll be back on the right track.”

“What if you’re not elected and we don’t do it?”

“Well, imagine continuing down the path we’re on. It only gets worse, we send our treasure away to buy oil and cheap junk overseas and squander our children’s future.”

“Jack, thanks for explaining this to me. I know what you’re really about now and I’m quite taken by you.”

I said, “I feel close to you, too.”

“Jack, you said in our interview - you would be debating in Boston two weeks from tonight. It hadn’t crossed my mind to say this before, but I am one of the moderators for the event. The league of Women Voters and NIM has sponsored three debates, and they’ve asked me to do them all. Jack…”

“I hadn’t felt this way before, but I’m telling you now, you’re right about this country, I want you to do well.”

“That’s off the record,” I joked.
 

“Way off,” Lexi clutched tightly to me as we walked back up the walkway to the stairs then onto the porch. I flicked the light on. Lexi reached into her bag and gave me her personal cell number.

“If you ever want to talk, please call me.”
 

The next time I called her number was after the interview aired on the national news. Aired in pieces over several evenings; we were pleased with the editing.
 

Bud thought our own staff couldn’t have scripted it better. Lexi concentrated on the needs of the country, the problems of sending American jobs overseas, and the squandering of U.S. wealth on foreign oil,
to the detriment of National Security
.
 

She narrated over a backdrop of our home, exquisitely decorated for Christmas. The two of us seated in chairs angled towards each other in front of the handsome fireplace, lit with fire. We enjoyed three evenings of prime time news segments without a single negative. She was a lovely new friend. I called Lexi’s cell and left a message to thank her and to let her know I’d see her in Boston.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

It was the first Friday of the New Year and the entire staff was busy preparing for the upcoming debate scheduled for Sunday night. Our campaign headquarters main room was configured, the best we could, to mimic the setting of the debate. The long conference table was the podium, set up at one end of the pit usually housing the staff desks. The mock candidates stood behind it facing a small desk at the other end of the room. Sandy played the role of moderator all week, asking questions handed to her by staffers.
 

I was standing directly in the center of the long table. Bud was next to me playing the role of Anne Griffin, the two Term Governor of Texas. The Governor was leading the pack as the front-runner in Iowa. We picked Bud to play her because they shared a short stocky stature and while hidden well behind an affable exterior, both were capable of playing dirty.
 

Anne had thin salt and pepper hair, mostly salt. She wore it curled with permanent, which didn’t do much to hide the fact. She had a prominent double sack for a chin and wore too much red lipstick. Her booming voice trumpeted her goals for the country, which she counted off in speeches - we all knew them by rote: immigration reform with enhanced enforcement of the border, free college education for anyone who wanted it, and lessened regulation on gulf oil drilling.
 

Her message of keeping illegal immigrants out had an almost fanatical zeal with a public weary of the illusion jobs were being lost to some evil monster sneaking over the border by night. Her rhetoric was resonating with a public who believed keeping illegal immigrants out would save more jobs for America.
 

Her free college idea was popular with voters brought up to think college was an essential component of success, though I had never met a billionaire with a degree. The cost of education had been rising at twice the national average eclipsed only by health care costs, which were rising faster.
 

I agreed with Anne’s message - education would help create a more enlightened workforce, but not that employers would come running. Only reduced production costs would bring large-scale production back. Americans were already some of the best-educated people in the world. The Gulf Oil drilling was for the money, we knew where that came from.
 

Bill was acting the role of the Senator from Maine, Dr. Tim Green, an acquaintance turned casual friend of mine I’d worked with in the Congress.
 

Dr. Tim had a young boyish face and receding hairline, making his forehead look higher than normal. He wore prominent black framed glasses, was soft-spoken, and his strong New England dialect belied his intelligence. The truth is, he had a vast knowledge of the environment. He’d completed his undergrad work in pulp and paper technology and after working a while with S. D. Warren, Paper Company in Westbrook, Maine, decided to go back to school. Graduating from Oxford with a Doctorate in Economics, he had written his thesis on the Soviet Economy.
 

His main campaign theme was global warming. He claimed that by 2100, One hundred million people living in low-lying areas would be underwater, including all of Florida and many Island Nations as well.
 

Dr. Tim would easily have won the Presidency if it were based on an IQ test. Too bad for him we have to appeal to the lowest common denominator. Bill was picked to play him because they both chose their words carefully. To date he’d gained little traction with the voters.
 

Tip was acting out the role of Reverend Terry Williams, a Tennessee preacher and perennial contestant in the Democratic Primaries. The reverend was a media hound who sought publicity, interjecting himself into any scandal he could find. He was a holdover from the civil rights movement and traded in controversy. The reverend was loud of speech, abrasive and quick to start an argument. It was out of character, but Tip asked to be the reverend.
 

Lisa played the last of our cast - the well-known Bobby Dennis, a two-term congressman from New York. An actor turned politician, Bobby D was 59, had name recognition and was running on a uniform tax plan. His goal was to close loopholes and abolish the IRS. He planned to charge individuals, 15% across the board. Corporations would pay 25%.
 

Sandy asked the question, “Senator Canon, you have been doubling up on your ads in New Hampshire playing a provocative anti-wealthy message. Your poll numbers are steadily rising. Was your strategy to skip Iowa and concentrate your efforts in New Hampshire, while the other candidates were busy elsewhere?”

“Our ads simply reflect the truth. We decided the only way we could fix America’s problems is to…”
 

Before I could answer, a staffer handed Sandy a note.
 

She interrupted, “Jack,
Sarah
needs you to call her.”
 

From her tone, I knew something must have happened. I thought, Oh
no… my dad
, he had been feeling poorly lately.
 

Mom had called earlier in the week to talk about an incident that happened in the main stairway of the house. Dad had an accident and didn’t want any help getting himself cleaned up. His Alzheimer’s caused him to be verbally abusive and he’d been complaining to Mom while rolling his wheelchair over to the stairs. He cannot climb them anymore, so he started up the stairs seated. The pain in his knees only allowed him to ascend one-step at a time in a reverse type of crawl.
 

Mom had been pleading with him to let her help. Dad was agitated and lashed his arm at her, causing her leg to slip painfully through the railing. The scene continued for an hour and a half before his nurse, Elsa was scheduled to arrive.
 

Elsa finally arrived at the front door and rang the bell. Mom called out to her to come quickly, she used her key and pushed open the door. Seeing the scene, she forgot to shut the door and the chill of the December air rushed into the center hall stairway with her.
 

“Mr. Ted, please try to calm down,” Elsa was standing on the step directly in front of him, at the same time reaching to pull Mom’s arm to help her right herself.
 

Dad kicked Elsa hard in the stomach - she lost her balance and fell back missing a grab for the railing, tripping down four steps to the floor. She was bruised and pretty shook, but wasn’t seriously hurt.

Mom freed herself and left Dad on the stairs, tending to Elsa, she called the rescue. When the paramedics arrived, both women stubbornly refused to go get checked at the hospital. Meanwhile, Dad was still on the stairs, muttering about the lack of respect in his own house. Mom called Roger to come over to help.

Sarah answers the phone, “Jack, I have been trying to get a hold of you!”

“I’m sorry, we had our cell phones off practicing for the debate on Sunday. What’s going on, is it Dad?”

“No, it’s your mother; she’s had a stroke and is in the hospital. Your dad is with Roger.”

“How bad is it; do they know?”

“I spoke with the doctor; he said the stroke was severe. They’ll know more in 24-hours.”

“Sarah, I’ll call and have the plane ready. Can you meet me at Reagan in an hour?”

“Sure, I’ll throw a bag together for you and the girls and meet you there.”

Thankfully, the girls were on school vacation and would be able to join us. Mom must have been at the end of her rope trying to take care of Dad and keep her promise he would never have to leave the ranch and live in a home.
 

“Everyone, my mom has suffered a stroke and I’m going to Kentucky to be with her. Sandy, can you call and have the jet ready, tell them it’s an emergency. We’ve gotta go.”