Tag: washington

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Step by Step

To the outside world, our 85-pound English Lab is Big Blake – a powerful and adorable eating machine from whom no unattended snack is safe.

Then thunderstorms and fireworks hit. And he becomes Big Shake.

The other night, it happened again. Thunder shook the air. Lightning filled the sky. And a quivering Blake curled up tightly on his favorite flowered couch, doing his best imitation of a lap dog.

It’s a familiar routine. And by now, it has a familiar approach. Stay nearby, both to reassure him he’s not alone and to make sure that he doesn’t do anything impulsive. (Blake is big and lovable, but not all that bright and more than a little clumsy.) Gradually get him comfortable and relaxed. And when he’s finally interested in food again, slowly lure him back up to the bedroom, one potato chip at a time.

What doesn’t work is a frontal assault. If Blake plants himself somewhere, there he is. There is too much Blake to be pushed, lifted, or led on a leash if he doesn’t want to go.

It takes patience. Quiet persistence. And more than a little cunning.

And this time of year, that should sound familiar.

***

If you’ve studied any history, you probably know that the American Revolution is a bit of an odd duck. Sure, it has its great names, inspiring legends, and painting-worthy moments, some of which actually happened.

But how on earth did a war get won by people who spent so much time losing?

Look down the roster of battles and campaigns. Aside from a few notable clashes like Breed’s/Bunker Hill and some pinprick raids like Trenton and Princeton, our Independence Day heroes spent a lot of time getting chased all over the countryside. If you wanted a title that summed up the military history of the Continental Army, “Defeat and Retreat” would just about do it.

It’s not dramatic. It’s not Hollywood. And even at the time, it wasn’t the sort of thing that inspired recruitment.

All it was, was smart.

You don’t run head-first into a buzz saw. You don’t stand in front of a Mack truck and say “Try me.” And you don’t go repeatedly toe-to-toe with the greatest army in the world and expect to have anything left but vapor and a couple of stray belt buckles.

You survive. You outlast. You exhaust.

Not surrendering. Not quitting. But not expecting to do it all in one dramatic moment, either.

That’s hard.

Washington was an expert at it – and hated it, an aggressive general by nature. Nathanael Greene was the master, leading the British a merry dance all over the South, and then handing off to Lafayette to do the same, so that Cornwallis could be led into the Yorktown trap. But the greatest players of incremental victory may have been the colonies themselves, who had spent decades learning how to do without Britain before  it was finally put to the test in war.

Slow steps may be frustrating. But they make the big victories possible.

That’s still worth remembering.

There is a lot of evil to fight in the world, a lot of problems to fix. They can’t be ignored, nor should they. But a headlong charge with no preparation often does nothing, and sometimes makes matters worse.

And so … you prepare the ground. You build. You patiently engage in a thousand small ways, erode the rock, undermine the cliff.

And if you do it right, even the big dogs can’t stop you.

Especially if you’ve got a bag of potato chips close to hand.

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Beyond Hopeless

The news couldn’t be worse for the general.

After all, his opponent had the most professional army in the world. The troops in the area didn’t just outnumber him, they outnumbered the city he was defending. Well, supposed to be defending – that same enemy army had pretty much kicked him around at will, overwhelming him at every point, sending his own troops not just into retreat, but often outright flight.

Only some convenient fog and a masterful escape had kept them all alive this long. And if the enemy ever committed to a hard pursuit even that might not last. After all, no one had told George Washington that he was going to win in the end. And if they had, at that moment, he might not have believed them.

“I am worried to death,” Washington wrote to his brother, as his army was uprooted from New York and chased into New Jersey and then Pennsylvania. “I think the game is pretty near up.”

This isn’t how we like to remember the American Revolution. Oh, sure, we take pride in having fought a giant. We may even remember images of Valley Forge, where the army starved and froze before coming out tougher than ever.

But we sit with the vantage point of centuries in our favor. We know we won. Of course we did. The British were fighting a different kind of war. They had an impossible situation in terms of logistics, communication, and coordination. And that was before French, Spanish, and Dutch allies turned it into a world war. The rebels had to win. Obviously.

Except it was anything but obvious at the time.

It never is, when you’re in the midst of the fight.

Washington wanted a clear-cut win on the battlefield. With rare exceptions, he wasn’t going to get it. His win had to be longer-term – to keep his army alive and together another day, another week, another year. When you can’t outfight your opponents, you have to outlast them.

But over time, outlasting becomes its own victory.

It’s a lesson I think most of us have had to learn. A lot of life’s problems don’t allow for a quick knockout punch, an easy resolution, and a fade to black with a wry quote on our lips. We get outmatched, even overwhelmed.

For Heather and me, it’s her medical situation, dealing with a laundry list of chronic illness – sometimes with Crohns, sometimes with multiple sclerosis, sometimes with the melodically-named but painfully-endured ankylosing spondylitis. It’s a situation that laughs at plans, where a day’s schedule may be completely rewritten because a condition decided to flare up.

For somebody else, it might be an impossible family situation, or a budget that’s circling the drain, or a change in the political winds that threatens fundamental needs for themselves or their loved ones. Everyone is fighting their own fight, and sometimes the fight can seem pretty darned hopeless.

But if we stay standing, if we stay in the fight, if we refuse to go down and go away, we can reach beyond hopeless. And then come out the other side.

Struggles are won by the side that gives up last.

Oh, it’ll be painful. It’ll be frustrating, even dispiriting. Washington himself famously shouted “Are these the men with which I am to defend America?” when his troops refused to rally and stand. There are no guarantees.

But if we stand, if we last, if we persevere and continue – one day, down the road, we may look back and realize how much we’ve done. And how inevitable it now seems.

It’s a shift in perspective that can be pretty amazing.

Maybe even Revolutionary.

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Fight Fire With Firing

I don’t usually get political in this space. But I’m hoping you won’t mind this time. Not when the aim is getting rid of politicians.

Yeah, I thought that might get your attention.

These days, politics in this country has gotten pretty tiring at the national level. Republicans and Democrats have drawn the battle lines and never the twain shall meet, lest one of our nation’s leaders be tainted with the sin of compromise. It’s quite possible that birthday greetings to a sixth-grade class would require 17 appearances on Fox and MSNBC, three filibusters, and a 19-day government shutdown until a majority could be found to agree on the “birthday” part. (“Happy” is clearly tied to either Obamacare or Wall Street and will have to be set aside until the next federal budget.)

Most of us are tired of it. And we all possess the ultimate term limit for a tiresome politician: vote for the other guy. But it takes so much effort to make even the smallest dent, like firing BBs at a tank.

Enter the Fire ‘Em All movement.

Now, I’m not a lawyer. I know this sort of thing probably isn’t doable without major rewrites to the Constitution, the U.S. code and the Boy Scout Law. But even just contemplating it can feel pretty good, and stranger things have happened – after all, (opposition president of your choice) made it into the White House, didn’t he?

It goes like this:

1) On every ballot for national office – the House, the Senate or the Presidency – there shall be an option called “Fire ‘Em All.” (“You’re Fired” has already been claimed by certain representatives of the National Alliance of Tangled Toupees.)

2) At the end of an election cycle, all votes cast in all federal races shall be totaled up by party: how many Republicans, Democrats, independents, Greens and so on. “Fire ‘Em All” shall be counted as its own party.

3) If at any time, “Fire ‘Em All” is among the top two choices nationally, the terms of all elective federal officeholders – again, House, Senate or Presidency – shall end on the next Jan. 20, regardless of how much time they would have normally had left to serve.

4) Replacement officeholders shall be nominated and voted on in the time between the announced results and Jan. 20. (Yes, this gives a little over two months to elect everybody. Whatever shall we do without a year and a half of campaign ads?)

5) Those chosen will serve the remainder of the term they are replacing, unless ousted by another “Fire ‘Em All” vote before then.

6) Individuals who have been ousted due to a “Fire ‘Em All” shall be ineligible to run for federal office for at least three election cycles.

7) Sports Authority Field shall immediately change its name back to Mile High Stadium. Just because.

Yeah, it’s a nuclear option. It clears out the good, the bad and the indifferent alike. But the sheer appeal of the idea should send a warning to Washington that it’s time to learn seventh-grade civics – or at least fifth-grade etiquette.

With or without a Fire ‘Em All button, we hold the power. And when we choose to exercise it, no amount of money or influence can stop us. This just makes it more efficient – and satisfying.

You really want to start from scratch? Go for it. Set down the disgust and resignation, and build the change you want to see.

It’s time to get fired up.

Who else gets fired is up to you.

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Time For a Good Man

Missy’s had a new friend hanging around the house lately.

She met him at Kohl’s and it was love at first sight. Now he seems to go everywhere with her. He’s even sat in our evening story times, and since he’s the quiet-spoken sort, it doesn’t disrupt anything. Besides, I love his shirt.

Yep. It’s easily the cutest Charlie Brown doll I have ever seen.

I’m not quite sure why Missy latched on to ol’ Chuck. I suspect the small size and bald head give it a “baby” appearance to her and she’s always been fascinated by babies. When our now-3-year-old niece Riley visits, there’s been several times when the toddler girl and the developmentally-disabled woman seem to have a perfect understanding of each other. Before the fights over the Legos begin, anyway.

But whatever the reason, I’m glad to have him around. Charlie Brown has always been a favorite of mine, the unlikeliest American celebrity of all.

Think about it.

America celebrates winners. Charlie Brown has never kicked a football, won a baseball game or flown a kite without disaster.

America encourages busyness, even hyperactivity. Charlie Brown always has time to lean on a brick wall and talk with a friend.

America urges people to get more, bigger, brighter, better. Charlie Brown rolls his eyes at over-decorated doghouses and aluminum Christmas trees, and picks out a scrawny branch that needs a little love.

He’s not a success. What’s more, he knows it. When he asks into the silent night “Why me?”, the answer he hears is “Nothing personal … your name just happened to come up.”

And yet, if you were to set him alongside most of the nation’s leaders right now – maybe all of them – the little round-headed kid with the rickrack shirt would be the first choice in a heartbeat.

Good grief!

OK, that’s not quite a fair comparison. After all, many things are outpolling the Congress right now, including the IRS, venereal disease and possibly the Oakland Raiders, though that’s stooping a bit low. But still, there’s something about the ol’ blockhead.

Sure, he dodges confrontations and hides from the little red-haired girl. Yes, he gets depressed and frustrated. And everyone knows he was overshadowed by his dog long ago in almost every possible area of accomplishment.

But … well … he’s decent. Courteous. Fair, even when it costs him. He sticks by his friends, even giving up a Little League sponsorship when it means the girls and Snoopy would have to leave the team.

He’s the guy you’d never put in the Hall of Fame – but you’d love to put him in the house next door.

He’s humble.

And I think we’ve lost some of that.

Oh, not at the local level. Not entirely. If anything proved that, the flood did, with good neighbors lining up to work in the muck and mud to help someone else. No pride on the line, just an awareness of someone else’s need.

But at the national level, where expensive temper tantrums can erupt for weeks and change nothing by the end … well, wouldn’t it be nice, once in a while, to have folks who were less sure of themselves?

I’m not arguing that confidence is a bad thing. But it’s not the only thing, either. When Rome celebrated its heroes with a triumphal procession, someone was always assigned to whisper in the hero’s ear “Remember, you, too are mortal.” Humility, in the midst of pride.

Even one of the most self-assured dictators of history, Oliver Cromwell, recognized the need. In a 1560 letter to the Church of Scotland, he wrote “I beseech you, in the bowels of Christ, consider that you may be mistaken.”

That doesn’t fit modern Washington, where you never apologize (except when caught in an affair), never back down, never admit the other guy might have a point.

And, lately, never get any work done.

Maybe that’s something to remember next year, come November. The confident men and women with all the answers make attractive candidates – but the less certain ones, the ones willing to ask questions, even of themselves, may make better leaders.

And it doesn’t have to be a costly experience.

I even know one guy who did it for Peanuts.

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Looking Forward

I wish I could be more surprised about what happened to RG3.

If football news isn’t usually your thing, let me explain. RG3 is the headline writer’s favorite nickname for Robert Griffin III of the Washington Redskins.(We all love a cute abbreviation in this business, especially one that rhymes). Griffin’s been maybe the best rookie quarterback of the season, and a big reason why Washington made the NFL playoffs at all.

And now he’s broken. Maybe badly enough to miss next year entirely.

Why? Because he played hurt in the team’s only playoff game. And got hurt even worse.

There’s been a lot of recriminations by fans. Not aimed at Griffin himself, of course; he’s a young man with the judgment and inexperience of many young men, and given a chance to play, he’ll play. No, the growling’s been saved for the team’s coach, for its doctor, for anyone who actually let him. “Sacrifice your future for the chance to win one game? Sure!”

But again, why is anyone surprised?

If Washington, D.C. has shown a gift for anything, it’s burning long-term needs for short-term gain.

Too cynical? Consider this.

We just went through a stunningly negative election with enough bad feeling to go around. Why? Because it works. Never mind if it further deepens distrust of the nation’s leaders (in 2011, 89 percent of Americans said they didn’t trust government to do the right thing), so long as it gains your candidate or party an edge now. Right?

Heck, you don’t even have to wait for an election. Just watch the fiscal cliff debates. Or maybe the budget ceiling talks. Or any of the key long-term decisions that get turned into an excuse for political games of “chicken.” So long as you look good to the folks back home, a solution doesn’t matter much, right? Especially if, deep down, you don’t believe one is possible in the first place.

And that’s the saddest thing of all, whether you’re talking football or politics. At a base level, these are decisions of despair. In a real sense, it’s giving up on the future to say that tomorrow’s consequences don’t matter if you don’t win today.

No wonder zombie apocalypses and “The Hunger Games” are so popular now.

Now, I’m not arguing to obsessively worry about the future, either. “Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof” the old verse goes; don’t worry too much about tomorrow because today has enough trouble of its own. I understand that. I even try to remember that.

But there’s a balance. If you’re smart, you don’t blow the kids’ college savings on a trip to Hawaii. You plan, to the limits of your resources and ability. You think about consequences because otherwise consequences think about you.

It’s something both coaches and congressmen would do well to remember.

The sad thing is, there’s an excellent example of how to do it right – and it’s also out of Washington. Last season, the Washington Nationals had a hot young pitcher, Stephen Strasburg, come back to them after surgery and a year of rehabilitation. When he came back in 2012, the team set an innings limit for Strasburg to protect his recovery. This far and no further.

It meant Strasburg sat down in September in the middle of a hot pennant race. It meant he couldn’t help his team in the playoffs.

But it also meant he may be around to help his team for a long time to come.

We could use some more of that thinking. Starting at ground level. If fans or voters want a longer view in the arenas they care about, there are ways to reflect that. Few enough votes, few enough ticket sales, can drive home the point that ignoring the future has consequences now.

And if we stick to our guns, the ones who think otherwise may not have much future at all.