Tuesday, January 30, 2024
Ever since our coverage from SCOTUS on Jan 17th, I’ve been thinking about my dad. When I was younger and still full of obstinate ambition, I declared to him that one day “I’m going to sit on the Supreme Court.” His response? Simply and approvingly, “I’ll be there.”
You would have liked my dad, and he you. He would have thrived in the title business; his off-the-charts IQ would have loved the challenge of it. Instead, he chose to become a teacher and then later to work with his hands. He preferred to work at night, when the world was quiet, so he could think about things. He loved politics, we shared that. He was an operations-minded guy, we shared that too. He had a passion for efficiency and an absolute outrage at inefficiency in any form, which sometimes felt more like a mutual affliction than something we shared. We loved to debate, and would give each other homework assignments of discussion topics. We loved our intellectual banter. He also loved horrible puns. That one was his alone.
In the way life often unfolds, we sometimes meet our goals a few degrees off from our original targets. It turned out that sitting on the Supreme Court wasn’t exactly a viable option for me. But sitting in the Supreme Court is pretty great, too.
Some of you have asked for a recap of what it’s like being inside the courtroom when big, important cases are being argued. Next week, I will attempt to do that. It’s quite the experience! But before we marvel at the solemnity of the room and the weight of the work that is done there, I want to stress the over-arching takeaway from the day.
Things are complicated politically and in life right now, a fact that can prove discouraging if you hold on too tightly to it. Turning on the news or calling up whatever is in your social media feed can lead to a feeling of familiar panic that can quickly devolve into despair if you aren’t careful. Feelings of desperation usually lead to one of two places, either withdrawal and avoidance or a series of rash actions and reactions.
My dad comes to mind often in these times, as I wonder what he would think about everything that is going on in our political system, and the world. But I can’t ask him, because he died too young, just before dawn one November morning in the fall of 2000.
One of his last acts was to cast his mail-in ballot for the presidential contest. He completed it with much help filling in the bubbles, from the hospital bed he would never leave. If anyone attempted to verify his signature, they probably would have declared it not a match. But it was his, at least what remained of it.
Together in that hospital room, we watched night after night the news coverage of hanging and dimpled chads, court challenges and recounts. We were as riveted as we could be, given the gravity of what was going on all around him. We discussed and debated as best we could, given his hastening departure that was already clearly in motion.
We knew the names and tactics of each attorney involved. We followed court rulings and our wagers went from being physically paid off to a mere nod of congratulations to the winner of our predictions for the day.
As his coherence began to stay away more often than it could remain, my anxiety heightened. One night I asked him “How am I supposed to do this without you? How will I know if everything is going to be OK?” He quietly replied, “Well, Kid, nothing is guaranteed to turn out OK. You win some and you lose some. BUT….you still have to suit up every day and play the game.” That turned out to be the last conversation we had. And believe me when I tell you, at the time it was not at all satisfactory, from my perspective.
He died before that election was settled. He left when things were still incomprehensibly up in the air. He never knew how it came out.
Each year around the anniversary of his death on Nov. 22, and his birthday Jan. 6, he tends to be on my mind more than usual. This year, that final advice has been also. In these times of uncertainty, when business hurts and someone seems to have really upped the amperage of the theatre part of political theatre … I’ll just remind you of some wisdom once shared by a great guy. Nothing is predetermined, neither success nor failure. Our nation’s trajectory has never been written in stone, neither has yours. Despair has never led to abundance. Quitting doesn’t translate into unity. Nor is unity produced by force.
Don’t leave the field. Stay alert and suit up every day. If for no other reason than when you’re engaged and involved, it’s easier to see that others are too. You feel less alone. While there is no guarantee that everything will turn out OK, the odds of it doing so just might be dependent on whether you participate.
You might not reach your goals in exactly the manner you originally envisioned them, but getting close is pretty great, too.
Until next time,
Mary Schuster
Chief Knowledge Officer
October Research, LLC