Wash your hands and play fair!

Here’s some good news:  The President and the Speaker of the House have agreed not to speak publicly about their negotiations toward resolving the great, fear-laden, nightmare-inducing “fiscal cliff.”  You know, the most recent thing we’re supposed to be in a lather about.

 But maybe we shouldn’t take this precipice too lightly.  After all, the deadline for averting that lulu of a last step falls on the date of the Mayan calendar’s end of days.  Who knows?  It could be that a Senate page pointed this out to our elected officials; hence their retreat into actual conversation and compromise.

 In point of fact, as much as I have clinched my teeth in preparation for the fall, I have dreaded more each new day’s reporting of the posturing and role-playing of the parties of both parts. 

 So, news of their silence is most welcome.  They are to be commended for their shutting up.

 Seriously, I know how hard it can be.  Sometimes, a person can’t stop herself from turning that clever phrase.  I just love a last word, a well-placed bon mot!
 
Why just the other day, I was one-upping a 2-year-old about the proper method for eating an artichoke.  I had him too!  He couldn’t overcome my lifetime of artichoke eating experience or my superior finger strength. 
 
But then, in a stunning turn of events, an ambush!  He reached up and touched my face! 
 
OK!  That was totally unexpected!  Dumbfounded, I had to concede.  You win, Little Buddy.  You win.
 
Of course I doubt that the President will touch the Speaker’s face.  For one thing, it’s unclear that they’ve been in the same room with each other since the last looming catastrophe.  Let’s see, what was that one?  Oh yeah, the budget deficit.  (In spiritual circles we call this recurring phenomenon “deja` poo”:  The creepy feeling we’ve heard this crap-ola before.)    

 On the other hand, if there were to be touching, the President would get first dibs.  Executive privilege.  Protocol.  Pulling rank.  Whatever you call it, in terms of debate strategy, it wouldn’t leave the Speaker any ground for recovery.  Everything’s second best after the first touch.  Mr. Boehner would likely burst into tears; pick up his toys and go.

 I don’t think a touch would be out of line, and it is disarming.  But the President’s a classy guy.  Even though you know that at the very least he wants to throw a pie, considering the Speaker’s propensities, he would probably extrapolate Robert Fulghum’s Rule #3 – “Don’t hit people,” and keep his hands to himself.   

Fulghum’s sweet and simple maxims to live by, found in his book All I Really Need to Know, I Learned in Kindergarten might well benefit our hapless representatives whose only stated motivation for resolving the nation’s financial debacle is getting home for the holidays. 

 God love ‘em.  If they would only follow Rule #13 – “Hold hands and stick together!”  That’s how compromises are made.

 Depending on your point of view, and on the outcome of this latest squabble in the Capitol, we might end up asserting that Rule #1 prevailed:  “Share everything.”  Or maybe we’ll get a true miracle of planning and execution following Rule #5 – “Clean up your own mess.” 

Fulghum got wordier as he went along, averaging only 4.8 words each in the first ten rules, then 26 words in Rule #11 alone.  Given that he allowed himself to go on and on, it’s surprising he stopped at sixteen rules.   

In these times of politicians needing guidance in the workplace, his Rule #17 might read something like this: “When you’re negotiating with your colleagues to resolve the complex finances of the United States of America, allow them to share the fruits of their hard work and acknowledge their ideas before your take your turn sharing yours.  

Or for their sake, we could speak simply: Rule #17 – Shut up.  Rule #18 – Listen to each other.  Rule #19 – Use the best of everyone’s ideas. 

Of course Fulghum never would be so crass or so terse.   

And since those guys in Washington so often behave like 2-year-olds, we may wind up with another punt of deal that delays disaster, but solves nothing.    

That’s when we can resort to Rule #9 – “Flush.”

It's Not Too Late for Resolutions!

In conducting a mid-year (it is mid-year, isn’t it?) check on my New Year’s resolutions, I discovered that I didn’t even remember some of the things I promised to do!  It appears my resolutions were shallow and without commitment.  Time for a mid-year correction.
  
Case in point:  I promised to make a pie!  Here it is August, and no pies.  No pies!  I am very disappointed in myself.  Of all my resolutions, I felt certain I would have completed this one.  Instead, I just let it go.  Forgotten.  No juicy fruit purchased for the purpose.  Not even canned fruit in the cupboard.  No homemade or frozen crust.  No rolling pin.  No pie.  I may have to go to Safeway and bring home a motivational sample. 

Given my failure on the pie resolution, it’s hard to explain why I’m only grams thinner than I was when I so earnestly made that resolution to get ounces thinner.  Did I mention I’ve switched to the metric system? 

I believe I deserve some credit since the scales tipped for a little while this year.  But then…alas…regression, inertia! 

So now, at the mid-year checkpoint (on the Aztec calendar), I redouble my efforts at slimmin’ (the British word for diet and exercise).  I can’t leave this resolution behind as it follows me, more literally than I like to admit, no matter my selective memory in a given moment. 

I resolved to dig out from under a desk in disarray.  A quick review of my surroundings reveals that I may have taken a positive step on the path toward tidiness; though in good conscience, I can’t claim it’s been as deliberate a step as the resolution implies.  Still, on a subterranean level the suggestion must have taken hold, as the desk itself is now visible.  Granted, there remain a couple of heaps o’ stuff that I haven’t figured out a more suitable situation for, neither item by item nor en masse.  But they’re smaller heaps than in January.  That counts, doesn’t it?

A key resolution was to be more generous in my manners and forgiving of those who might be lapsing in theirs.  I’ll give myself a “B” on this one.  I’m pretty automatic in holding doors, excusing myself, saying the magic words.  Why, in the produce department the other day, I pulled a plastic bag off the roll near the asparagus and gave it to a man who waited patiently for me to take it myself.  He said it was the first time that had ever happened.   

But I can’t rest too long on those laurels - in the privacy of my car, I’m still cantankerous and stingy with access to my lane.  If someone weasels in without permission, I get sarcastic unless I get a “thank you” wave, which is practically never.  I’m probably sending bad vibes into the cosmos.  I’m culpable for that.

Speaking of neglected resolutions, remember back in January when Congress resolved to behave better?  Recall when they mixed it up and crossed the aisle, sitting Democrat – Republican - Democrat for the President’s State of the Union address?  They did very well making nice that day.  Way back then.  In January.

I’m trying to be generous with them…but come on.  That was during the post-Christmas white sales.  Where’s the civility in springtime and the sweetness in summer?  Ok.  The President and the Speaker displayed a modicum.  I heard the President say a couple of times that Mr. Boehner has a tough time persuading his caucus of things he and the boss have agreed to.  That’s a generous statement.  He called Mr. Boehner a “good man.”  He seemed sincere. 

But past that, now it’s their promises that seem shallow and without commitment.  They took an oath to serve their constituents and our country, and to do so professionally, in good faith and with good will.  They're supposed to make the world a better place. 
They re-read the Constitution in January.  I suggest they read and refer to Robert’s Rules of Order and Miss Manners' Guide to Domestic Tranquility: The Authoritative Manual for Every Civilized Household.  That should cover the White House and both Houses of Congress. 

Somewhere in those two guides they’re bound to find an array of worthy resolutions like: listen, take turns, don’t interrupt, acknowledge others’ efforts, and validate their work.  Use your time wisely.  Play well with others.  Keep your eye on the prize.  Compromise. 

It’s not too late for a mid-year correction!

Crocodile Tears in the House of Representatives: Or, There's No Crying in Politics

So John Boehner has a soft heart…

The “Weeper of the House,” it turns out, is known for being “touched by a moment, a speech, or a comment, whether it’s from a constituent or a fellow member of Congress.”

And there’s sure plenty for him to cry about these days what with the Tea Party splitting the Republican vote in a couple of key races, and the Senate still in the hands of the Democrats.

I saw Boehner struggling to contain his emotions when he took the podium election night after he learned he would be the new Speaker of the House of Representatives. His memories of his personal history overwhelmed him in the moment of stepping from humble beginnings into such a high-profile and powerful position. So he cried.

Thank God. I’m not the only one who cries all the time. I can definitely share a moment with our new Speaker. I’ve been choking up over everything from the commonplace to the obscure for decades. It’s not the most desirable public image, but if like Mr. Boehner and me, you’ve got the Curse of the Cry, there’s not much to do about it.

Wait. I saw some advice on the Today Show recently giving a new strategy to help a person avoid crying when s/he doesn’t want to. It was in a segment including how to relieve the hiccups, to put it into perspective.

Anyway the new strategy is, when you think you might break down into tears and you don’t want to, since you’re at the podium in a televised national news conference, you should clear your throat and then swallow.

The thinking is that this gives your muscles and reflexes a chance to reset. And it gives you and Moses something besides “Oh no! Here comes the flood!” to think about.

I tried it the other day while watching the first episode of National Geographic’s “Great Migrations.” There are some heart-wrenching scenes in that spectacular footage. The one that got me was when the wildebeests crossed that same darn river at the same darn place where they cross every year. Why do they keep going back there? The crocodiles go there every year too. Duh! You’d think the gnus would at least go upstream a ways, ‘cause those crocs are ENORMOUS. They can practically swallow a little gnu in one nightmarish gulp.

That’s exactly what was happening, actually. This horrifically huge crocodile caught a young wildebeest by the lower half. The baby called out to its mother watching helplessly onshore, and I started to…but wait, let me just clear my throat. Ahem. And now I’ll swallow. Very gentile, I found. And…It worked! I was momentarily removed from the emotion. It is a video, after all.

But since I sat safe at home in my recliner, next to my husband who I must note was not unmoved by the drama, rather than in the glare of a Washington press conference, I still let a tear fall for that animal and its mother. They are so stupid it’s infuriating. And – you’ve heard it before – for some of us, when we’re mad, we cry. Infuriating in itself.

And what’s so bad about crying anyway? So what if we show that we’re touched, or moved, or saddened? Those of us with the Crying Curse are certainly free of ulcers. The rest of you strong hold-it-in types think you’re so smart. What? There’s no crying in politics?

In the coming months John Boehner will likely find himself in multiple situations where he’ll want to cry, particularly if he pursues the same “Party of No” strategy the Republicans have taken up since 2008. That pesky Democratically-controlled Senate will no doubt frustrate him. The President’s veto pen may have him reliving his childhood struggles once more. That’s when the tears are likely to flow.

So it’s important to note, Mr. Boehner, that crying will not prove an effective strategy for getting Senators to change their votes. Nor will pouting or shouting. My advice? A respectful approach coupled with good faith negotiation can be disarming even among the most ravenous crocodiles with whom you’re swimming.

Set name calling and tattling aside. Bring straight talk and genuine collaboration to the forefront. There’s your formula for a tear-free two years.

Then of course, you get the group hug.