Meeting Senator Ted Stevens

Sometimes,I get all too depressed thinking that this is the face of Alaskan politics.(Although, I suppose that if you resign your governorship to focus on your bookdeal and possible reality show, you’re not really a representative of Alaska anyway.)

Iget even more depressed when I think that this might be the face of women's,national and/or populist politics, so you can see why, if I have to make achoice, I want to relegate her just to Alaska. (Sorry Alaska. Really.)

Long before Sarah Palin, Alaskan politics had another face, and thisweek, Alaska and the country lost Senator TedStevens, the man who represented his statewith such passion and commitment. (Albeit not without controversy, I know.)

I met Senator Stevens in 2001. I was just out of college andworking for a non-profit in D.C. that provided housing and medical care forretired career military officers and their spouses/widows. (This translatesinto running a continuing care retirement community complete with independentliving, assisted living and nursing care. Founded by Mamie Eisenhower, we werevery well-funded, and walking down the plush corridor that ran by the diningroom past the lobby and to the elevators, my boss and I often remarked that wefelt like the activities directors on some kind of luxury cruise line.Especially if there was a game of croquet on the lawn or a bridge tournamentgoing on.)

Onemonth into the job, it was time for the Foundation’s largest annual fundraiser,a gala, and to say that I was feeling a little overwhelmed would be quite theunderstatement.

Decorumand manners I’m used to. I did grow up Southern and in a family that prizedmanners very highly. I know how to eat a banana with a knife and fork, whichsilverware belongs to which course and for the first 18 years of my life, Inever left a table without asking to be excused. Professionalism I could handleas well, but military customs were not part of my repertoire at the time,and I worried about the offenses I could cause addressing a “General” as a “Colonel”and who knows what else.

Ifirst became flustered when the advance team for General Shinseki, the head ofthe U.S. Army arrived.

Speakinginto his cuff, a large man told me that “the commander was on route.”

“What’syour plan for his arrival?” he asked.

Plan?I thought. Was I really supposed to be the one with the plan? I thought of myrole as involving more silent auction items and directions to the bar than howto schedule the arrival of one of the military’s most powerful men.

“Letme find my boss,” I said, which I stand by as a great answer until you becomethe boss. (I’ll also go ahead and mention that our banquet was held on Tuesday,September 4, 2001. At the time, we were all completely clueless that the worldwould change forever in one week. I met General Shinseki that evening, and thenext time I saw him, he was in the front row for President Bush’s post 9/11address to the nation as it was broadcast on every major, and not so major,television network. He directed hundreds of thousands of men and women as theyentered Afghanistan, andlater Iraq.I made invitations for a donor coffee in December.)

Then,they had to go and throw in Senators on top of all that.

Eachyear, the Foundation’s Gala honored a particular guest. In 2000, they hadhonored Senator Stevens, and he returned in 2001 to support that year’shonoree, his friend and fellow World War II veteran, Senator Daniel Inouye of Hawaii. Senator Inouyelost his right hand in the war, and I was also incredibly embarrassed to thinkthat I might have stared as we were introduced. (I also think I was in to thetwo-handed shake at that time. It was a phase, akin to and followed by mykissing everyone on the cheek, that I thought seemed very warm and genuine.Let’s just say that I’m glad I’ve moved on.)

Akind man, Senator Inouye didn’t seem to notice my floundering in this worldthat seemed way over my 21-year-old head. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Bothmen were obviously impressive, but what bowled me over most about each was thatin an environment dominated by politics and power, each with a long history ofgovernment service behind them, that night, both seemed to hold onto something thatwas relatively uncommon in Washington-– humility.

SenatorStevens really was there just to support his friend. He had no interest inpushing an agenda (not that there’s much of an agenda to push in a continuingcare retirement community, but the very fact that he came to spend his eveningwith a bunch of old women that it meant the world to also speaks to hischaracter). He didn’t seem bored. He was kind and gracious to each and everyperson that wanted the opportunity to meet him.   

Iknow his later career was troubled. I also know that controversy surrounds Senator Stevens, especially as it relates to pork belly spending and his often aggressive approach, but what I took fromthat night is that Senator Stevens cared  -- about his friends and the U.S. military. I know Senator Stevens will be missed, andI enjoyed our meeting very much.

Andsome of you think I never say anything good about Republicans …