For decades I knocked around Savannah City Hall, the County Courthouse, the Georgia State Capitol, Congress and every single Department of the U.S. Government (H.U.D. is by far the worst damn place to visit in America while the Library of Congress is pretty sweet!).
I love Savannah, tolerate Atlanta and really like hanging around the Mall in Washington D.C.
If you do politics you're always hurrying up to wait. So my ass has occupied chairs waiting on Mayors, Councilpersons, Legislators, Congressmen and Senators. I've been with three Presidents and Congressman Jack Kingston once chewed me out in front of Mitt Romney who may or may not be President.
It was in Atlanta and Jack was endorsing Mitt for something or another as I was making my to occupy another chair waiting on one of the chosen members of the Elect.
"Elliott," Kingston bellowed, "I need to talk to you."
"Shit," I muttered because I knew what it was about. Nevertheless I made my way to Jack and the man who may or may not be President.
"Elliott, it is proper protocol that if Congress is going to give you money you should at least ASK THE CONGRESSMAN!"."
"I knew you busy," I replied. "I didn't want to bother you."
"My office orchestrated giving you quarter-of-a-million dollars and I read about it in the bill that HAS ALREADY BEEN AUTHORIZED!"
"You have a great staff," I said. "They handled it so you could concentrate on more important things."
Romney watched this exchange.
"I gotta go Jack," I told him. "I'm late for somebody whose going to make me wait," and I took off losing myself in the crowd.
The $250,000 was money for mentally ill people in Savannah.
In politics you win or lose battles in a war that never ends.
I agree with Bob Dylan who was agreeing with Samuel Johnson ... "Politics is the last refuge to which a scoundrel clings."
I know that's cynical. I have lots of friends who are into politics and have been elected to something.
Shirley Sessions is one of my dearest friends!
The last time I saw Jack I was tailgating at a University of Georgia football game and he walked up.
"Hey Mike," he said obviously wanting to take a break from the crowd he was working.
"Hey Jack," I said shaking his hand. "You want a beer?"
He shook his head. "I'm working."
"Bummer," I answered putting the beer back in the cooler.
He went back to shaking hands and kissing ass as I took another swig of Michelob.
My son and friend Jeremy was sitting beside me. At the time I was pretty fragile having left the work, dealing with a marriage that had left me engulfed in a weariness that I didn't how to handle.
"You miss it Dad?" I remember him asking.
Holding the Michelob to my lips I watched Jack working the crowd at a football game because he believes he's making a difference. Sometimes he does. Most times he doesn't. He refuses to quit though.
I looked at my son and, "Sometimes."
