September 11, 2001, and John McCain

Posting about McCain brought back a memory.

On September 11, 2001, I was in Washington, D.C. My Lovely Bride and I were down South, visiting family. We came up September 10 to her sister's house in Maryland. I had arranged with one of Congressman Duncan Hunter's staffers, Valerie, for a tour of the House of Representatives floor and the Capitol. You could do that pre-9/11. So, at about 9:00 a.m., I dropped off my brother-in-law, sister-in-law and My Lovely Bride outside one of the congressional office buildings and looked for a place to park. There are no places to park on Capitol Hill. The last parking place was taken in 1987 and has been passed down from father to son ever since.

While I was making increasingly wider circles around the Capitol, I noticed a bunch of young men and women all briskly walking or running, every one with cellphones stuck in their ears. They all wore Navy Blue blazers, white shirts and khaki trousers. I started giggling at how self-important these Congressional aides thought they must be. All in the same uniform, all talking earnestly on cellphones, I just thought, "Yeh, I'm in the Imperial Capital, and that's how everybody, all these pretentious kids, sees themself here. What a bunch of dweebs".

It wasn't until I finally got inside (by waiving at the guard at the door) that I realized something was wrong. About then, I can't remember if I heard a noise or somebody shouted, "It's the Pentagon!". I still hadn't figured what had happened. I got to Duncan Hunter's office by then. He was there and put on his "glad to see a constituent" face. We chatted a bit, and he asked for my cellphone number, saying "Maybe we can have dinner tonight". I suggested that he was going to be rather busy, for it was now clear that New York and the Pentagon had been attacked.
Duncan dismissed the objection with a waive of the hand and said he was there to see his "people from home".

At this point, I hustled My Lovely Bride, brother-in-law and sister-in-law out of the office. By the time we made it to the exit, guards were shouting at everybody to "Get away from the building!". My Lovely Bride has had a few back surgeries and is not exactly an Olympic sprinter. She was hobbling with the cane and I was darting around her shrieking, in a purely husbandly and loving way, of course, "Let's get out of here!". We made it to the rental car and spent the next couple of hours on totally grid-locked streets trying to get of out D.C. and back to Maryland.

I didn't know then that what saved our butts was probably the heroic actions of the passengers on United Flight 93. They selflessly gave their lives to force the airliner down in some remote Pennsylvania woods. The airliner was thought to be aimed at the Capitol.

Fast forward. Last year, My Lovely Bride and I were visiting family in the Susquahanna Valley, north of Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. We were driving through the world's longest valley, the Juniata Valley on old US Hwy 30 when I saw a turnoff for Shanksville, PA. I turned to My Lovely Bride and asked, "Hey, didn't something happen at Shanksville?". I'd forgotten. I forgot United Airlines Flight 93. I cannot even remember the name of the hero whose last words were, "Let's roll!". My sorry butt was saved, but I hadn't the fainest clue. That's what six years does. We're still at war. There are still crazies out there that want to kill us because, and only because, we're Americans. But, I'd forgotten the heroics that probably saved my family and me.

That's why we should vote for McCain. The other two, Hillary and Barrack, are just wrong on the war. We've got lots of time to sort out universal health care, and the rest of the largesse that the federal government doles out, if we protect ourselves and fight this war. Read Norman Podhoretz' "World War IV". Vote for McCain.

My Cloudy Crystal Ball

So much for my predictive powers. Huh. Whodda thunk it? McCain wasn't even on my list in December. Thus is politics. Last week's darling is this week's faint memory.

I had dinner with McCain once. It was about 10 years ago or so. It was at a local Duncan Hunter event on a college campus next to the ocean. I sat next to McCain. He gave a great stump speech, even though it was well before the 2000 campaign. He had some great lines about "every Senator not under indictment or in rehab wants to be President", and "it's great to be in San Diego to see all my constituents". That latter is because the place is flooded with Zonies in the summer. Any Zonie with half a brain gets out of the Valley of the Sun in the summertime.
They flood the coastline with their RVs and 1973 Cadillac convertibles. The La Jolla grey-hairs call them "summer trash".

Throughout the dinner, I chatted with McCain. He was smart, personable and the consummate politician. I picked up a really weird sensation talking to him. It was as if there was an undercurrent of rage. It was as if any moment there was going to be a meltdown and he was going to stand up shrieking, waiving a pistol. He didn't seem to have what they call "judicial temperment". Now, I will never be a judge. Probably not smart enough, and, certainly not well connected enough, to be one. But I know judicial temperment when I see it. It is the ability to take a bite of a shit sandwich and only comment on the freshness of the bread. McCain didn't have that. He was one pissed off guy, and it was only millimeters below the surface.

Having said that, it begs the question, will I vote for him? You bet. In a heatbeat. Looking at either Hillary or Obama, it's not even a close call. Personalities, and judicial temperment, aside, their worldview and their proposed plans are light-years apart. McCain is not my second choice. Or third, or fourth, or tenth, for that matter. But I probably agree with him 50% of the time. I don't agree with Hillary Clinton or Barry Obama 1% of the time. That's the difference.

In my perfect world, Duncan Hunter and Fred Thompson would run. If for no other reason than a "Hunter-Thompson" bumper sticker would be cool. But that ain't gonna happen. Oh well.