‘Tis the Season

Another Christmas is right around the corner, and this holiday feels different from so many others that have come and gone.

I suspect some of you may be feeling the same way, considering the stress that too often accompanies the holiday season.

christmas-tree1I’m not sure why I am having a harder time getting into the spirit of the season this year. The awful part of this is that there is no good reason for my absence of holiday cheer. I am incredibly blessed; more than I should be.

I have a loving, beautiful and supportive wife (Don’t ask me how I pulled this off, because I have no clue).

I have two healthy, wonderful step children, a beautiful home, modern appliances and a good job with benefits, funny co-workers and a flexible boss.

I have two dogs that love me unconditionally and two cats that keep me on my toes.

I have an extended family that is more supportive than dysfunctional. Heck, I even have new tires on my truck, not to mention access to health care and a set of tools that I don’t know how to use.

So, why shouldn’t I feel jolly and bright as this holiday approaches? What has me feeling cynical and ready to scream, “Bah Humbug” at random strangers?

Maybe, just maybe, I have too much. Maybe, just maybe, I have forgotten why we celebrate this holiday.

This realization came to me as I began to reflect on Christmases past; on Christmas celebrations that did not come with so many expectations of the so-called perfect holiday.

As I contemplated these ghosts of Christmases past, it occurred to me that two particular Christmas holidays stood out as my favorites.

1.) Homefries with paprika

It was the Christmas of 1997, and I was 33 years old, virtually unemployed and living with three roommates on the third-floor of a Munjoy Hill apartment in Portland that was much closer to the bottom of the hill. I did not own a car, nor did I have a girlfriend.

I was, in every sense of the word, a loser.  At least, that was my opinion of myself back then.

These aforementioned roommates of mine were unruly slobs who liked to drink, stay up late and delighted in terrorizing my cat. They were lovable guys, actually; but it grew wearisome picking up after them and tolerating their frat-boy behaviors. On the other hand, they were covering my portion of the rent. So, there’s that.

Luckily, my three roommates were all headed to their respective homes for the holidays, and I was not. To me, this was the ultimate Christmas gift: I would have the entire apartment all to myself for a few days. I spent almost an entire day cleaning the place, lit some candles and then planned what I would do on my solitary Christmas.

Only a few weeks before, my sister gave birth to my oldest niece, Kaitlyn.  I had a little more than $20 in my pocket, so my Christmas shopping was going to be limited. So, on December 24, I trudged down Congress Street and stopped at the CVS store. I bought a rather inexpensive frame and some parchment paper; and then trudged down the hill toward the Hannaford store, where I bought a thick ham-steak, half-dozen eggs and some egg nog before heading home.

I loaded my word-processor with the parchment paper and drafted a poem for my niece; a poem to celebrate her first Christmas. Satisfied with the third version, I placed it in the frame and wrapped it.

I opted to attend Midnight Mass at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception, and by the time I walked back home, a quiet peace and serenity enveloped me. I was exhausted, but content.

I fell asleep reading Ben Bradlee’s autobiography and awoke on Christmas morning happier than I could recall. I boiled some potatoes, setting them in a skillet with globs of butter, chopped onions and doused with paprika. In a separate skillet, I fried that ham-steak, while working to scramble some eggs and coordinate the timing of my toast.

It was a kick-ass breakfast that I washed down with a quart of egg-nog. I fell asleep again in front of the television, with my cat curled on my chest.

I had not only survived a solitary Christmas; I relished it.

2.) Reindeer tracks

It was the  Christmas of 2001. A few weeks prior, I met Laura Kidman and we began dating on a regular basis. She owned a small home in Old Orchard Beach and had two young sons that I had met just a couple of weeks before Christmas. I was the editor of a small, local newspaper. I drove a 1993 Ford Escort wagon with a really bad exhaust,

Between us, Laura and I did not have two nickels to spare, but I remember how warm and cozy her house felt when she invited me over on Christmas Eve. Looking back, the “cozy” feeling probably had something to do with the house being 550-square-feet.

The boys were still young enough to believe in Santa Claus. Tim was six, and Matt was four. I bought them each several presents, which were wrapped and placed under the Christmas tree after they went to bed. Laura’s sister had helped me pick out a necklace, which I would give to my future wife on Christmas morning. But as midnight, approached, I opted to give Laura a more significant gift.

A few years earlier, my mother had given me the Nativity set that I had grown up with. From that Nativity set, I removed the Joseph figurine and wrapped it carefully. When I gave Laura that gift, I explained that I would do my best to match Joseph’s love for a child that was not his own.

Before driving home, I went out to the front porch and leaned over with a broom to create reindeer tracks in the snow.

I went back to Laura’s home on Christmas morning to watch the kids open their presents and to point out that the reindeer had landed in the front yard. They believed it for a little while, but were relentless in interrogating me about it. It was a magical day, and I felt as if I had truly turned some kind of corner that could never be reversed.

Neither of these stories are intended to diminish the wonderful and magical Christmases of my youth. My parents outdid themselves at Christmas. We decorated the tree as a family, listening to Nat King Cole and Johnny Mathis sing about the magic of the season. There was always, and I mean always, a giant orange tucked in the bottom of our stockings; my sister and I were often given matching pajamas on Christmas eve. We each had our favorite ornaments to hang on the tree. Fond memories, that must adapt to changing realities.

And what I realized today is that the more I have; the more comfortable I am, the more the magic and splendor of Christmas escapes me.

Because Christmas is not about stuff, credit-card balances, news headlines or any of the other things that can weigh us down throughout the rest of the year.

Christmas is a reprieve for those who choose to accept it.

No matter where you are, no matter your circumstance or fortune, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas

 

‘All I know is that I know nothing’

imagesBy Dawn Carey

Socrates was a classical Greek philosopher who has been credited as one of the founders of Western philosophy. It is believed that his knowledge is only conveyed through his students, among them, Plato, Aristotle, Xenophon, and Aristophanes

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According to Plato’s ‘Apology’, a friend of Socrates (Chaerephon) asked the oracle at Delphi if anyone were wiser than Socrates; the Oracle responded that no one was wiser. Socrates challenged this answer, (because he believed he possessed no special wisdom) by questioning the wise men of Athens (poets, politicians, etc.). His conclusion was that the Oracle may be correct; while the experts claimed themselves to be wise, they were not. This, he decided, explained why the Oracle had made such a conclusion; he was the only person aware of his own ignorance. Because of his non-conforming behavior and his challenge to authority, Socrates was put on trial for ‘wrongdoing’. He was found guilty of corrupting the minds of the youth of Athens and of impiety and sentenced to death by drinking a mixture containing hemlock (1).

While there is MUCH more to the story of Socrates and his philosophies, which have had a significant influence on Western philosophy, I think his belief: “All I know is that I know nothing” encompasses every aspect of current society and ideas, or lack thereof.

We have a problem in this country, and around the world… we all think we KNOW everything; don’t we? I believe this is the reason for the gridlock and insanity we see in Congress, and all around us. People are too busy knowing it all to listen to anyone else. Before a person can even begin to share their thoughts, recipients of communication shut down; they tune out and immediately distract themselves by formulating a rebuttal to a preconceived idea that they haven’t even heard. I see it regularly, a group of people actually TALKING at the same time, over one another… totally in their own reality, having their own dialogue with themselves; it’s quite comical, actually. They’re all speaking at once, and don’t even recognize that there are three other people doing the exact same thing! I’ve also noticed people asking questions, but not listening to the answer, instead, they answer their own question, aloud, interrupting the person of whom they’ve asked the question. Again, it would be almost comical, if it weren’t so distressing.

As much as we’d like to believe that we are oh-so-wise, wouldn’t we become even wiser if we listened to others ideas? No one person knows everything, we are ALL wrong, on occasion. It’s okay to be wrong, its okay to not know. It’s okay to change one’s mind… as they say: “change is the only constant”. Don’t we attain and education, and read, etc. to learn new concepts and ideas? What kind of information are we cheating ourselves out of by being close-minded and falsely assuming that no one is more knowledgeable than we are; that we are the wisest? We are not, but by being open-minded enough to shut up and LISTEN to what others have to say, we could become wiser than we are.  When we shut ourselves off, because we think we have all the answers, we suffer greatly, individually, as well as, collectively. Sometimes, we need to just ‘shut up’ and listen (hear).

This, I think, is what Socrates was suggesting. And THIS is why the Oracle at Delphi deemed him to be the wisest of all.

1. Fallon, Warren J. (2001). “Socratic suicide.” PubMed. PMID: 19681231. US National Library of Medicine. National Institutes of Health. 121:91-106. Retrieved September 12, 2013.

Et Tu, Journalism?

By Dennis King

jourPlease don’t call me a journalist.  Just because I contribute once in a while to a friend’s blog does not make me a journalist.

If you consider me a journalist I will jump off the next bridge I see. I don’t know how to “journalize” or “journalate” or whatever it’s called.  I tried keeping a diary once but my life was so boring I wound up doodling on the blank pages.    I can barely spell, as it is.  I play guitar and when asked to spell it once I left out the letter “U” and added an “H.”  I have never lived that one down.   I also read a lot, and by that I mean…um..well… I take books out of the library and start reading them.

I made the mistake once of telling my youngest son (who is a gifted writer and avid reader) “I have read a lot of books front to cover”  I wish I was making that up.  I still get grief over it.  That being said, I am good at a few things.  I screw up pretty good.  I am an expert at excuse-making.  I am a savant when it comes to procrastination and I am highly opinionated.  (uh oh, maybe I AM a journalist)

All that being said, I want to express my opinion regarding the venerated and highly esteemed vocation of journalism.  Websters Dictionary defines the word “Journalist” as “One who practices Journalism”  ok that didn’t help.

All joking aside, I know what a journalist is supposed to do. He or she writes down as story.  Something big happens.  A truck hits a utility pole and the power goes out in the neighborhood.   Suddenly the driver gets blamed because someone thought he saw him texting while driving so the headline reads “Texting Driver shuts down power to neighborhood”  The anti-texting folks come to town and picket in front of his house.  He is denying it.  “My cell phone was turned off I swear !” he laments in protest.  It’s too late.  The police start an investigation but it is doesn’t matter at this point.  Al Sharpton is already on his way to offer his help to the victims of this heinous crime.

Businesses are burned, cars overturned, mayhem ensues.  Two weeks later a video surfaces showing the real culprit.  A little cat crosses in front of the big truck.  The driver swerves into the utility pole missing the poor cat.  ohhhhhh THAT’S what happened……and in the words of Rosanna Rosanna-danna “nevermind”.  That’s Journalism !!

Sometimes journalism can be that way.   Something bad happens and journalists. in their zeal. start to write what they see and hear as if it’s the gospel truth.  They report it while it is happening not considering the consequences.   Is it true?  Is it false?  What is going on here?

The question that never gets asked or perhaps gets answered prematurely is “Should we wait until we get all the facts ?”    Such is the case time and time again.  For as long as there have been journalists, there have been stories published that later turned out to be untrue, or at least not fully told until the fires go out and everyone has gone home and the damage has been done.

There have been countless stories published as truth, too quickly to be retracted that have embarrassed and sometimes even harmed folks when the truth came out later.

Richard Jewell the so-called “Olympic Bomber” was first hailed as a hero and then became a suspect in the bombing.  He went through a “Trial by Media” and his name was dragged through the mud by the media mob.  This kind of journalism has always been going on.  Did you know that Marie Antoinette never said “Let them eat cake” ?  Did you know she was just an regular girl (well at least overly pampered)  who was accused of things she never did ?  Pamphlets were printed that accused her of all various vices, which were untrue.  Death by Journalism.   There are many such modern day published headlines that have colored our view of the truth.

Just look the stories up and read about them yourself.  The list is long and the damage done was severe.  Reputations were destroyed. (The McMartin pre-school fiasco,  The Tawana Brawley story, The Duke Lacrosse scandal,  The UVA Rape story,  yes even Michael Brown’s death was full of journalistic assumptions that fed the flames, destroying people’s businesses.   Mark Twain once said “A lie can go halfway around the world while the Truth is putting on it’s shoes”

Much has been written about Journalism. From the humorous to the severe.   Dave Barry once wrote “We journalists make it a point to know very little about an extremely wide variety of topics.  This is how we stay objective”

The French poet Jean De La Fontaine once penned ” Every journalist owes tribute to the evil one” Ouch !

All I know is that in today’s fast paced media-driven world where what happened two minutes ago is already old news, we should not listen to these voices until the truth comes out.    I have stopped tuning in to these late-breaking news stories.    I keep my opinions to myself until the very end and the jury has reached a verdict based upon evidence.  Then will I say what I think.

Unfortunately, by then, the truth really doesn’t matter.

Peace

Facts are stubborn things

A protestor in Ferguson.  (CBS News photo)

A protestor in Ferguson. (CBS News photo)

I am at a distinct disadvantage writing these words.

I am white. I am also the husband of a former police officer, thus I am somewhat biased.

But I will proceed regardless; because all the news, all the commentary, and all the passionate debate about what happened in Ferguson, Missouri has sparked my memory, jarred my thinking — all the way back to my junior year in high school when I wrote an essay about the Boston Massacre.

The similarities are striking.

History has a funny way of repeating itself; and as George Santayana said, ” Those who cannot remember the past are doomed to repeat it.”

The Boston Massacre happened on March 5, 1770.

Five colonists were killed by British soldiers, who were serving as law enforcement officers to uphold the rule of law (including unpopular taxes) and other provisions of the Townshend Acts

On that fateful evening, Hugh White, a British private soldier, (Police officer Darren Wilson) stood on guard duty outside the Custom House on King Street. A young man, Edward Garrick, insulted another member of the British Guard, Capt. John Goldfinch, saying that Goldfinch had not paid a bill.

Private White injected himself into the debate and told Garrick that he should be more respectful of British officers. White, in fact, left his post, challenged the boy, and struck him on the side of the head with his musket. This attracted a crowd.

Tensions were already high between the British and the colonists. The boy’s insult and White’s reaction touched off a powder keg of resentment.

Within minutes, more than 50 colonists pressed around White,  throwing objects at him and challenging him to fire his weapon.

The crowd grew in size and the British dispatched more troops to quell the colonists, who were throwing rocks and snowballs at the officers. And  then muskets were fired. Five colonists were killed and six more were injured.

The first man killed was Crispus Attucks, an African man, who was labeled later as an instigator.

In the days and weeks that followed, there was a propaganda battle between the two sides. Everyone had an opinion.

Of the eight officers arrested, six were acquitted and two were charged with manslaughter because they fired directly into the crowd.

The attorney representing the British convinced the jury that the officers were in fear of their lives and acting in self-defense.

And who was that attorney?

John Adams, the man who would go on to become the second president of the United States, took the case because he wanted to ensure a fair trial, despite his patriot leanings.

Adams received threats and daily harassment. He feared for his life and for the safety of his family. Many colonists regarded him a traitor for representing the British.

At trial, witness statements were contradictory, and Adams seized upon those contradictions to paint an utter scene of chaos for the jurors, despite the fact that his clients were wholly unpopular.

But Adams also played the race card. Adams called the crowd “a motley rabble of saucy boys, ‘negros’ and ‘molattoes, ‘Irish teagues’ and outlandish jack tars.”

Popularity did not matter to Adams. He knew the stakes were too high to cave into the pressure of political expediency.

What John Adams said during his closing statement at trial should cause us all to pause before offering our own amateur speculation about the intent, competence or procedure of the Grand Jury in Ferguson, Missouri:

Facts are stubborn things; and whatever may be our wishes, our inclinations, or the dictates of our passion, they cannot alter the state of facts and evidence.

Flash forward to today and  yet another young man is dead, and a community is ripped apart.

We will probably never know what happened on that fateful night in August. Most of us (God willing) will never know the pain of losing a child, or the haunting nightmares of a police officer who felt out of options.

But what we do know for certain is this: that the rioting, which followed the non-indictment was not at all justified, but completely understandable. That there is still a rage and level of mistrust in many of our communities and it is there because of undeniable history.

We also know for certain that more than 100 police officers have been killed in the line of duty this year.

So let’s stop speculating and debate the things we know.

Let’s talk about how we move forward; because as history shows us, things can come apart very quickly.

 

We’re the kids in America

WARNING: If you are a partisan Democrat or Republican, you may not want to continue reading because this post will surely piss you off.

Me and Governor LePage

Me and Governor LePage in 2013.

Nearly 24 hours after the polls closed, there is still a fair amount of wailing and gnashing of teeth going on here in Maine, where Republicans had much to celebrate last night.

All the pundits, professional and otherwise, have bellied up to the bar to offer their “expert” opinions and analysis about what happened last night, so please forgive me for piling on to the fray of analysis and speculation.

Throughout the day, on social media and around the water cooler, I have heard a wide range of opinions about why Democrat Mike Michaud lost his bid to oust Republican Paul LePage.

Many people blame Independent candidate Eliot Cutler. I disagree, I think Cutler was a factor but not that significant, let’s say 5%

Other people said the controversial “bear-baiting” referendum brought out “conservative/sportsmen” voters who would have otherwise stayed at home during a midterm. Wrong again, in my opinion. But let’s give this “factor” another 5%

Others have said that Gov. LePage was able to latch on to the Ebola hysteria that dominated the final days of the campaign cycle. This one I find laughable, but let’s give it 2 percent, anyway.

Still others have said it was because Michaud was an openly gay candidate. I have a fair amount of Republican friends, and I never heard this issue raised in conversation. But I am also a realist, and I know that awful bigotry does lurk everywhere, so let’s give that factor another 5%.

So far, if you add all these factors together, you only have 17 percent of the puzzle.

So, what really happened last night?

In my opinion, it was two things that really mattered.

For almost four years Democrats have howled and railed about how awful governor Paul Lepage is. In this campaign cycle, they spent boatloads of cash driving home that message. He is a bully. He is an embarrassment. He likes to kill puppies. He spews dioxins.

Let’s, for a moment, assume the Democrats were right that Paul LePage is the worst governor to ever occupy the Blaine House. Let’s assume he is the great Satan.

Well, if that’s the case, how do you lose against such a God-awful candidate? You nominate a weak candidate to take him on.

Everywhere I go, I hear people tell me that Mike Michaud is a “nice guy.” And that is the truth. I have met Mr. Michaud. Off the top of my head, I can’t think of a nicer guy.

But you need more than being a nice guy.

Maine’s Democratic Party cleared the primary decks and anointed Michaud as heir apparent with no contest. On paper, it made a certain amount of sense. Michaud was from northern Maine, and he could probably carry southern Maine. He is a respected legislator and held his Second District Congressional seat for several terms. He is likable. A working-class guy just like you.

But Michaud’s campaign focused primarily on being “not Paul LePage.” Voters turn out to be for a candidate, not against a candidate.

LePage had the advantage of being an incumbent and trumpeted his accomplishments. No matter how you feel about the guy, he has a loyal fan base and they rallied like there was no tomorrow.

But all that only counts for 40 percent of why Michaud lost and LePage won last night.

What’s the missing piece of the puzzle?

History and voting trends.

Make no mistake, the President played a factor in this race and several others. Historically, the second-term mid terms are a major disappointment for the person sitting in the Oval Office.

The nation is weary and wants a new direction, away from the party that controls the White House.

Let’s take a quick trip down memory lane to 2006. George W. Bush was halfway through his second term in office. He lost Congress in 2006. But what was happening in Maine?

Gov. John Baldacci was seeking re-election. The Republicans nominated conservative Chandler Woodcock to take him on. But the Dems had other problems. Barbara Merrill, a former Democrat lawmaker from Appleton, filed papers as an independent. Pat Lamarche, the driving force behind Maine’s Green Party was also a candidate and threatened to peel progressive votes from Baldacci. Between them, LaMarche and Merrill got roughly 20 percent of the vote.

Baldacci still won because a.) he was a stronger candidate than Woodcock; and b.) because Republicans nationally and at home were useless during the waning days of the Bush Administration.

By contrast, Cutler only got eight percent of the vote, but it would be a major leap of speculation to assume that every one of those votes would have gone to Michaud.

In the end, Michaud was a mediocre candidate who ran an uninspiring campaign while his political party was suffering all over the country.

That’s what happened in Maine last night.

 

 

Radio Free Europe

Governor LePage: winner or loser in 2014?

Governor LePage: winner or loser in 2014?

There’s one aspect of this year’s Maine gubernatorial race that has received little attention: where will dispassionate Republicans land on Election Day?

Four years ago, in what was largely a three-way race, Republican Paul LePage became Maine’s governor by securing approximately 38 percent of the vote.

Since then, much has been said about plurality, the merits of run-off elections and the so-called Cutler effect.

But little has changed in how Maine will choose its next governor, and today LePage is again on the ballot with two opponents.

More importantly, we don’t have Independent Shawn Moody (9 percent) to kick around this time.

Moody was always a long-shot, a late entrant, dark-horse candidate with broad appeal. At least a third of his support likely came from Republicans who were less than impressed with LePage’s style and tone.

From my perch, it’s hard to see how LePage has done anything to build his base, to draw in moderates; and I wonder where will those folks go. Will they hold their noses and vote for LePage? Will they hold their noses and vote for Cutler? Will they clamp down on their noses and vote for Democrat Mike Michaud; or will they leave their noses alone and just stay home on Election Day?

Many Democrats blame Cutler for LePage’s election in 2010. They say he split their party’s voting block and could do it again this time.

So far, Cutler is only a shadow of the threat he was in 2010; but even then his support came late in the game. Say what you will, but Cutler’s numbers will likely rise over the next few weeks as LePage and Michaud busy themselves with tearing each other down.

Recent polls have shown LePage and Michaud in a very tight race. So, I want to know where the Moody voters from 2010 will go; all nine percent of them.

Nine percent may not seem like a big number, but LePage simply cannot rest on his base of 35 percent. This time, the Democrats are working harder and smarter than they did in 2010. They are more unified and reaching for the middle.

LePage has an opportunity to draw in some of those moderate voters in the middle, but so far there’s been no evidence that he’s willing to court their vote.

So far, Eliot Cutler is the only candidate working really hard for the middle, the place where a growing number of voters call home. I doubt it will be enough for him to win, but I am positive that it would be enough for LePage to lose.

 

Lido Shuffle

The experiment is over, and it was a bittersweet experience letting it go.

As it is with so many things in life, it occurs to me that my endeavor to create a diverse group to debate differing political ideas with civility was both a phenomenal success and an utter failure. We called this group “Thinking Politics” and its membership quickly swelled beyond my expectations.

WP_20140906_18_48_58_ProLast night, I had the pleasure of participating in the phenomenal success part; but it was the utter failure part that led me to let go of the reins, end the “experiment” and let the group go wherever it wants; allow the other members of this “secret” social media group to experience true self-determination.

I started the group, and until last night served as its primary moderator. Admittedly, I tried to control the group: to maintain a balance between liberal and conservative thought.

My bigger mistake, however, was trying to appease all members of the group, and that caused a lot of anger and dissension.

A few months ago there was a schism of sorts. Roughly 20 percent of the members left the group after I announced that we would leave religion out of our political conversations.

I was angry that these departing members hijacked my group’s name and started a similar group entitled Thinking Politics/Free Speech, as if free speech has no limits.

But the bulk of the original group’s members remained, yet still the dynamic I envisioned never really materialized in a substantive way.

I wanted to see if there would be more intellectual curiosity; if members would be willing to re-examine and challenge their own political pre-conceptions and beliefs.

One of the problems is that the group quickly became dominated by one side of the political aisle. Those in the minority felt frustrated and stopped participating.

In a recent Facebook post, Robert Reich, former Labor Secretary under President Clinton, spoke of the value of having his ideas challenged by a good friend during a monthly lunch meeting.

Perhaps that is why last night was such a stunning success.

About 30 members of Thinking Politics convened for an impromptu dinner in Portland. All members, regardless of political affiliation, were invited. It was an awesome experience, full of laughter, shared experiences, good food and plenty of libation.

That experience reminded me of the Political Beer Summits I once organized with friends who often disagreed about political issues. Those summits inspired the creation of Thinking Politics.

When you’re sitting at a table, directly across from your adversary, it becomes instantly clear that you have much more in common than not. We all have funny stories, fond memories, shared experiences, including loss, fear, hope and dreams.

It’s almost impossible to establish that kind of intimacy on the internet. When you are separated by a keyboard and a monitor, it’s much easier to belittle your opponent, to say things you would never say if you were sharing a meal with them.

So, part of me thinks I failed; but as I looked around at the group last night, I also felt a certain sense of pride. The conversations were real, the friendships were plainly evident.

It was a good time for me to say goodbye, to let go of my moderator status and turn over the keys to six others.

Where Thinking Politics goes from here is unknown. What is known, however, is that I will no longer be at the helm of that ship.

My experiment is over, and I regret nothing.

A good friend from Rhode Island accompanied us to the dinner. Her observation meant a lot to me. “Look at all these people, they came from Texas, Illinois and all over, and they really want to be here and meet the other members in person. You started that, Randy, and that’s impressive.”

So, in the end, maybe my time at the helm of Thinking Politics was a stunning success; and thus, it was the perfect time to walk away and let others steer that ship.