Shocking Presidential Candidate Behavior: Now That I Have Your Attention...

When I was a sophomore in high school (1972-1973), I was a ROVING reporter (never in class, but churning out the stories) for the school newspaper (The Paw Prints). My teacher, Mr. Mabus (picture Lou Grant on the Mary Tyler Moore series), heartily suggested I try out for the fledgling debate team.

He was sure the experience would broaden my communication skill way past my usual, humorous reasoning about my shortcomings. Mr. Mabus’s rationale included polishing up my op-ed pieces advocating things like a student’s right to smoke (cigarettes) on campus, a woman’s right to wear pants and sundry diatribes about the not-so-cool stuff left over for the underclassmen (the future leaders of the universe) because the seniors hogged all of the cool stuff on campus, like prime parking spaces and the few, elective, no-brainer classes.

1972 was a prime election year, too. Richard Nixon (R.) was campaigning for a second term as president. Suffice it to say that Nixon repaired diplomatic relations with the People’s Republic of China during ‘a week (February 21-28, 1972) that changed the world.’ He won the November election, however, impeachment changed HIS world in 1974 because of wiretapping misdeeds (The Watergate Scandal). The former president passed away in 1994. He was 81 years old.

Senator George McGovern (D.) of South Dakota opposed Nixon and endured a scandal of his own as a supporter for the legalization of marijuana (hey, wait a  minute…the more things change, the more they stay the same). McGovern recently passed away at the age of 90.

 Alabama Governor George Wallace (D.), a vociferous segregationist, was also highly visible during his fourth, presidential campaign in 1972. According to Warren William, author of, Alabama: The History of a Deep South State, Wallace’s campaign was ‘one of the nastiest’, chock full of blatant, racial slurs. His presidential race was cut short by a would-be assassin who shot him (five times), leaving the governor bound to a wheelchair for the remainder of his life (he died from many maladies in 1998 at 79 years of age).

The same year, Congresswoman Shirley Chisholm of New York became the first, Democratic, African American female to run for president. She survived three assassination attempts during her presidential campaign. She was 80 years old when she died in 2005. Representative Patsy Mink (D.) of Hawaii was the first Asian American female to campaign for president. She lost, but retained her post in the U.S. House of Representatives for many years. She died in 2002 at age 74.

Rev. Kev, our high school’s long, frizzy-haired, ASB president’s character was unquestionably assassinated after openly and notoriously lounging in a reclining lawn chair (positioned on an elevated, wooden platform), SHOUTING SMACK with the use of a bullhorn.

The Rev. Kev lambasted the principal and various teachers while openly smoking a reefer (sooooo anti-establishment). He was suspended from school for a week and duly expelled from his political post, subsequently exiled to Humboldt after graduation.

Thus, our ASB Vice President Harley Charlie was called to task; he was the personification of diplomacy and vision, for our school benefitted from a variety of implemented changes: better cafeteria food; the offering of advanced placement classes; new backboards for the basketball team and an endless supply of paper for the students AND the teachers.

Now, THERE'S a story I found meandering the campus because underclassmen were otherwise forbidden to trod the senior quad (no rhyme intended).  

“How else would my fellow students know I’m a journalist, Mr. Mabus, unless I'm out and about gathering newsworthy stories?” I asked, poised to dart out of the classroom door because a real, live, Russian communist was slated to speak at a student assembly shortly after lunch (I wanted to capitalize on the opportunity).

“The first thing is you’re wearing a huge, name badge with your photo identification. Second, you always carry a steno pad and a pen. Third, your camera (Pentax, 35mm film) is dangling around your neck and fourth, you’re the only kid who’s not in class at this time, every day,” he smirked.

Who was I to debate with Mr. Mabus? To this day, I perceive no reason to argue with anyone, no matter what. Besides, Mr. Mabus was astute. FORMAL debate is a facsimile of theatrics, appearing to occur in a mediated environment.  However, we are emotional creatures, as evidenced by Obama’s facial expressions of consternation and Romney’s undulating, emphatic tones of voice emanating during each of the three, presidential debates (that, and every so often, neck veins were bulging on the both of them).

Emphatically, I lost my first and only debate in favor of allowing women to wear jeans on campus to a TOAD wearing brown, polyester (FLOOD), bell-bottom pants and black penny loafers WITH white socks. Stanley successfully argued that durable jeans were made for men, thus, pants (in general) weren’t meant to be a fashion item (yadda, yadda, Calvin Klein). Then he began calling me names, like, ‘HIPPIE!’, ‘WOMEN’S LIBBER!’ ‘COOKIE MONSTER!’ in front of my teeny-bopper, peer panel (it may as well have been the whole, wide world). Naturally, I broke down and sobbed. Naturally.

I didn’t have it in me to respond by calling him a Neanderthal, beanpole-nerd because my tearful outburst had already detracted from my insightful, denim dissertation. I told Mr. Mabus that the debate team was never going to be my communication bailiwick. Ever! Forget about it.

Whenever (rarely) I encounter a contentious individual, it’s much easier for me to either help them as a friend would, easing any distress OR to make a rapid exit -- stage left. I’ve learned to handle conflict in many a professional arena and as a member of Toastmasters, International (I’ve earned the Distinguished Toastmaster, public speaking credential).  Most times, it behooves me to LISTEN and to remain silent, though I may not have a clue as to the underpinnings of another’s meltdown – except that FEAR is their element.

When all else fails in establishing my inner peace based on a solid resolution, I eat a bunch of cookies. I meditate, counting my blessings. I pitch in where I can. I go to the gym and work out. My favorite comfort task is writing acerbic, really condescending, nasty-grams (sans the expletives; heavy on adjectives no one’s ever heard of). Then I immediately shred the evidence of my documented ire.

I didn’t feel a shred of discomfort watching and listening to Obama and Romney cite answers to valid, far-reaching questions about topics which admittedly, I knew nothing about and a few, national issues about which I know enough to raise moderate concern.

But, this is the crux of WHY I vote: Obama and Romney are privy to situational details which would boggle my surfer mind. These notable politicians have access to a cadre of seasoned experts and substantiated, documented information on grand-scale issues, which, no doubt, would send me into a panic if I really, really knew the tenuous implications.

The President of the United States must deal with GLOBAL things, as well, the minutiae, shaking hands with constituents and smiling for the cameras, all the while.  I think about it this way: while President Obama is talking serious budget deficits with Federal Reserve Chairman Ben Bernanke, I’m free to talk about geometry and the homecoming game with my son after school – big issues for any household.

I was amazed by the 2012, presidential candidates’ relative composure during the third debate (and the ensuing, comedic heresy), for each man is well-spoken, well-versed and well-off. They are, indeed, worthy opponents.

Whether or not I agree with either platform or persona of the candidates, it’s a wonder that each man, bringing notable, experiential worth and respective human frailty, would voluntarily campaign for an overtly scrutinized, public office (holding many benefits, of course). Of course.

What amazes me even more is that President Obama currently represents folks like me….and you…and all American citizens…as best he can under the prevailing, global circumstances; under the dynamics of his administration; under the in-your-face paparazzi; under Mother Nature’s indiscriminate chaos and under the noise of certain, babbling, political commentators who don’t know when it’s time to….shush already.

Notwithstanding the ultra-analytical, obviously biased, political summaries outlining Obama and Romney’s debate tactics, one thing remains crystal clear:  Our nation’s presidential role is the cornerstone to the framework of the Constitution (XXVII  (27) amendments) and the Bill of Rights (the first, X (ten) amendments ratified December 15, 1791).

Article II of the United States Constitution spells out the executive POWER of the President of the United States of America (www.usconstitution.com)  – whom the PEOPLE elect by marking THEIR CHOICE on the ballot.  Does it get any easier? Yes! The Registrar of Voters mails a ballot to my home AFTER I receive a voter’s pamphlet to peruse at my discretion. It costs me 90 cents to mail it back (I want to ensure postage is covered).

On Tuesday, November 6, 2012, MY VOTE COUNTS! I have taken each candidate at face and accomplished value, having casted (mailed) my vote for one of them - imperfect as both gentlemen may be.

 I trust that I’ve made the best decision possible (imperfect as I may be) under the prevailing community circumstances; ensconced in my home-based dynamics; peering at the in-my-Facebook wall; reveling in Mother Nature’s beauty; despite the clamor of certain, babbling, political commentators who don’t know any more about tending to national issues than I do (or we’d be on the ballot). But, I’ve voted for someone who does.

Godspeed to all of the presidential hopefuls.  May the best candidate win.