Visiting with Friends

Early one morning a lobbyist for a trade union enters my office. Yes, my elevation to the Senate includes office space, a real stretch of the language, more a cubby space I share with Senator Windy Boy of Box Elder, but a substantial upgrade from the House. We have a tremendous view looking north, out beyond the Helena Valley and spacious desks of sorts to attract clutter.

“I am so saddened by the crash in D.C. We lost two flight attendants who were in the union” he says in sparing words. Then it is quiet. Perhaps silence is  appropriate. 

“Yes, life can be so fleeting” I say. What can you say. Young aspiring skaters precious lives along with young military helicopter trainees performing a routine exercise. “Thank you for allowing me to sit with you for a few minutes, I needed to reflect” he says.   

“Certainly” I say, “Thank you so much for finding me.”

I don’t know who the wolf guy is. He’s got a tough task, representing such creatures, in the wolf charged political environment of Montana. 

“Do you like baseball?” I ask. That day, I did  not want to talk about wolves and the gentleman lobbyist concurs falling into another trap of discussing baseball, past and present. 

As an icebreaker, I ask, “Have you ever read the short story by Updike, “Hub Fans Bid Kid Adieu”? Amazingly , he responds, “No, should I?” How do I respond, other than thinking, “What a terrific piece of writing to stockpile till later life”, and I say, “This is one of the BEST stories on baseball ever, maybe one of the best short stories, ever!” Ted Williams, at 42 years of age coming to bat for his last time, in September of 1960,  the final game of the season, a week day game before a sparse crowd at Fenway Park, (I’m getting excited as I tell the story). And you know what?  He hits a home run in his final time at bat and then in Ted Williams style, refuses to take a final bow to the fans. 

No curtain call for The Kid. We see each other a few days later. He has read the story, gushing with appreciation for the lead. 

The wolf guy gives me a wrapped gift, a neck tie. Returning his wonderful gesture, I order the classic book from the 1980s, “The Catcher was a Spy”, the life of Moe Berg, an erudite Columbia University graduate who was a life time back-up catcher and a genuine US government spy on the side.  We never spoke of wolves. That’s a discussion for another time, I suppose.

The Republican legislator sites me from the stairwell. “Dave, I need to talk to you now” 

“Of course,” I say, and we sit  on cushioned bench in the third-floor hallway?” 

He looks at me, a bit distraught, collecting his thoughts and asks, “What are we going to do to fix things in the Senate?” 

My friend is referring to a dust up on the Senate floor in response to motions to send an Ethics investigation of a sitting Senator, Jason Ellsworth, to the Attorney General’s office.

 The motion to do so was in response to a motion to suspend the senator from committee duties before the Ethics Committee had rendered a report. Very severe things were said, not involving the two of us but nevertheless sucking the energy from the building. 

“History nor the press will do much reporting on the excellent floor session we had during our first three and half quarters of action. It’s like a basketball coach (back to sports again),  getting the best from their team for the first three and half quarters and then they lose focus and discipline, and blow a large lead to a less talented team.” 

“One observation I will make”, I say. “You in the majority have an enviable situation. You have so many in your caucus resulting in a diverse group and not all of you think the same way. I see that as a great opportunity to be a stronger caucus, but many are insistent on towing the line and see it as being disobedient and threatening. Some of your caucus sided with the Democrats, but on other issues they will not do so. That’s politics, I suppose, but such conversations like now, will lead us to a better place.”

When I get home, I text the Senator and express my great appreciation for the conversation. He texts back and agrees with my sentiments. This place is not Washington D.C.

Dave Fern

SD 2 Whitefish/Columbia Falls