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Knowing When It’s Time to Go Al Simpson, my Senate employer for eighteen years and friend of forty two, once referred to Washington, DC as a place dominated by powerful people and big marble buildings, a relatively small area bordered on one side by the Potomac and on all four sides by reality! As Rebecca and I permanently depart this place, it is time to ponder Al's characterization of DC and to consider other valuable lessons imparted during these 7,650 often interesting, sometimes exhilarating and occasionally dispiriting days. I picked up my first political lesson at the crack of dawn January 3, 1979 as Al and I drove his stylish red Plymouth Horizon to work the first day. We stopped for a moment at a traffic light and turned into the Senate parking garage. Once inside, we halted abruptly because a policeman had followed us in, and his rather intense image was filling our rear view mirror. Ticket book in hand, he strode up and scowled, "I don't know where you two are from, but you can't turn right on a red in this town!" As Al jumped from the car and introduced himself as the newly elected Senator from Wyoming, the officer's demeanor immediately changed. As he smiled, stowed his ticket book, extended his hand and said, "Welcome to Washington, sir," I'm pretty sure I felt my first twinge of Potomac Fever. In Washington, on Capitol Hill at least, the hardest lesson to learn is that power is insidiously and totally addictive. Mysteriously, for many who become employed here, one more year of service becomes one more decade of entrapment. Especially for those who permit or encourage the force feeding of their ever peckish egos, a climb up the ladder of success leads straight to the door of roach motel designed exclusively for federal employees. It has a beautiful, inviting entrance. Unfortunately, the exit is extremely difficult to find. In his book Cannery Row, John Steinbeck compared the frantic lives of people in professional jobs with "Mack and the boys," the unemployed misfits of Cannery Row. "Mack and the boys are the beauties, the virtues, the graces. In the world ruled by tigers with ulcers, rutted by strictured bulls, scavenged by blind jackals, Mack and the boys dine delicately with the rigors, fondle the frantic heifers, and wrap up the crumbs to feed the sea gulls of Cannery Row. What can it profit a man to gain the whole world and to come to his property with a gastric ulcer, a blown prostate, and bifocals? Mack and the boys avoid the trap, walk around the poison, step over the noose while a generation of trapped, poisoned, and trussed up men scream at them." After all these years in Washington, Rebecca and I have not suddenly been challenged to explore new people and places solely by Mr. Steinbeck's societal observations. There have been numerous other inducements, among them the inspiration of a new millennium and the sounding of various internal alarms. Whatever our motivations, we have sensed a growing awareness of something that should long ago have been obvious: while one's options for adding years to life are limited, limitless means exist for injecting life into years. With that clearly in focus, we'll soon be rubbing elbows with Mack and the boys. By mid December we will be in dogged pursuit of the world's overlooked nooks and crannies. Kuralt like, we will first explore the Americas, then Asia and points beyond in a multi year quest for places and people who remain blissfully unaware of the power struggles on Capitol Hill, or even of Capitol Hill itself. No longer will we presume, as do so many, that famous people must surely possess answers to life's most vexing questions simply because their suits are routinely bleached in the klieg lights of fame. We are not unaware of what to expect in our new peripatetic lifestyle. In visits to more than fifty countries we have already encountered people who were powerless but nonetheless fascinating, modest men and women who offered a brand of sincerity and perspective not often nurtured or even condoned within the Beltway. Unsung survivors of challenging circumstances, millions of these souls live modestly on China's Silk Road, in crowded refugee camps around the world, in steamy tropical fishing villages, on the burning sands of Africa, in squalid back streets and along life's unnoticed remote trails. When given the opportunity, and often in stark contrast with many of the pampered and pompadoured elite in Congress, many of these people actually have important things to say. The clarion call for significant change in our lives was that realization. While it will be particularly difficult to depart the incredible Smithsonian Institution where I have been mesmerized for nearly two years, I have found that too many of life's most valuable lessons are not absorbed while cruising wide governmental and corporate expressways. Conversely, and thankfully, they cannot be overlooked on life's bumpy wilderness trails. By hogging the freeway's center lane too long, we nearly missed a key turn down a series of challenging trails to a fascinating place called Perspective. In the past, people moving away from employment fulfillment and toward dream fulfillment found themselves isolated from dear friends. But in this age of electronic tethering, it will be easy to stay in touch from afar. Like it or not, those who know us will occasionally receive word of our efforts to swap traditional forms of wealth for elusive gems of wisdom. As we pull up stakes in Washington, we have many people to thank. For those who have contributed the brightest threads to the evolving tapestries of our lives, no words can express our appreciation. Although we will be saddened as you slip beneath our stern horizon, you will remain prominently and warmly in the crystal sharp vista of fond memory. In these 21 years, Washington provided staggering challenges and unparalleled opportunities. Blazing victories and wrenching defeats flashed through our lives like meteors in the night sky. In difficult times ahead, we will be well served by special perspectives and indelible memories our DC experience branded forever in mind and soul. Rebecca shares my observation that this has been a truly fascinating pause along life's journey. But now it is time to break camp and move on. Don Hardy |
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