The Candidate

"To me, old age is always fifteen years older than I am."

Bernard Baruch

Senator John McCain has been for many years a welcome voice of honesty and common sense in the Senate of the United States. For a second time he is running as a candidate for the presidency of the United States; his attempt in 2004 was derailed at the time by his own party, which had adopted a most objectionable strategy based on lies, smear and falsehoods. Notable were the attempts against Senators John Kerry and Max McClellan. The offenses and attacks against them were the more deplorable as all three were Vietnam War veterans with distinguished service records.

We had met before at several of the capital's glittering functions sponsored by wealthy lobbyists, at one or two exotic embassy parties, and also at numerous elegant soirées hosted by rich, old dowagers who keep trying to maintain the Washington Hostess sub-culture alive. He had always been distant to members of the press, or to those who were not immediately identified as card, cape, and sword-carrying members of the Party, but in my case – as independent as a tornado - he had always shown some accessibility, due perhaps to the fact that my mother in Tucson, Arizona was distantly related to him.

He was radiant that evening when we met at the Osiris, the fashionable cocktail lounge in Georgetown. Some of the financial obstacles on his road to the White House had just been removed and things looked very encouraging for the Senator.

“If it wasn’t for that veto on the Childcare measure, I would feel better!” he said just when Senators Chamblee and Isaacson of Georgia stopped by the table to greet McCain with a short hello, devoid of any warmth. McCain nodded without a word. As they moved on, Mc Cain said: “There go two more loyal White House dummies. If the President suggests that eating raw alligator is good for you, those two would move to the Okeechobee swamp in a jiffy!”

I noticed that the Bourbon and water on the table had barely been tasted, whereas the peanuts were almost gone. As I sat down in front of him, he said:

"Hey, these Georgia peanuts are great! And you know why?"

I shook my head. I hadn't the faintest idea.

He smiled smartly. "Because they need constant attention. Not only from the farmers, but also from county and state officials. The latter must always be there to provide adequate legislation; they must advise and counsel the farmers. I personally think that this kind of commitment, which the government of the great state of Georgia abides by, is essential to preserve this national treasure." He pointed at the empty bowl of peanuts.

"What do you mean?" I asked, somewhat confused. I had no idea that peanuts, that were normally consumed by elephants and baseball crowds, were a national treasure.

"Well, legislators in Georgia should always be on hand, within reach. Especially its representatives from the House and from the Senate. They have a job to do in their state and it is their patriotic duty to stand by their peanut farmers and spend every available moment with them. Peanut farmers, after all, are the constituents that bring fame and wealth to their state and to their country!"

"I thought Georgia was the Peach state?"

"Peaches, peanuts, what's the difference?"

"You're not trying to say that our Georgia Senators Saxby and Isaacson, should abandon their duties in the capital and plant themselves in Macon?"

He looked at me and flashed that smile that his PR advisers had diligently drilled into him. "Oh! I thought they were from Pennsylvania!"

I decided not to pursue the issue. I signaled the waiter and asked him to bring some almonds, Brazilian nuts, and Idaho potato chips. They were all safe from associations and inferences.

"Well, Senator, how do you view the race for the Republican nomination?"

"Of course, it's too early to tell. You know, a few weeks ago it looked as if we would have half the party running. There were Governors who wanted to emulate Bush and Clinton and follow in their footsteps -- from Governor's mansion to White House in one easy hop. Others just announced they were running to keep their local lobbies happy and their bank accounts open. Then there were the usual millionaires out to prove that the White House could be an acceptable capital gain and a tax write-off."

"How about some of the old timers?"

"Not much enthusiasm this time. Instead we got a self proclaimed hero from Brooklyn and a worn out actor from Tennessee."

My next question was a touchy one. I had to couch it in careful verbiage.

“Senator, recently you made some assertions that leak from all sides. You said quite emphatically, that America is a “right of center nation”, adding also that this has always been the country’s preference.”

He looked at me and in a serious tone asked:

“And what the heck is wrong with that?”

“A simple historical fact, Senator. This country was founded by men who supported a liberal approach to government in all its facets. They were naturally anti-authoritarianism, repudiated any form of inequality and believed strongly in a free society, which also includes the right to worship. Right of center, my foot!”

He smiled and muttered; “Wise ass. It is a matter of opinion really; it is like a necktie, some people wear it tight and others loose!”

Again, I did not wish to pursue the matter. Let it age, as the cheesemakers say. I drank some more of that lovely bourbon and asked the senator:

"Senator, it is claimed that some of the younger people in this country consider that your seniority and maturity, the result of your many years in public service, deserves perhaps a reward other then an active Presidency."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"That you are too old for the job," I said, and grimaced for what was to come.

"Was Reagan young? How about Adenauer, De Gasperi, Salazar, Franco, Perón, Fidel Castro? Look at the Popes, the older they get, the better they perform. Old age, as someone said, is a matter of mind over matter. If you don't mind, it doesn't matter!"

"But it does matter to some people because they mind."

"What's your point?" he growled.

I shrugged. "No, nothing, just pointing out a different perspective."

He sighed and relaxed. "Listen, sonny, when you get old you will acquire wisdom and all the perspective you can handle. You will become aware of how the world has changed and you try to stop it, because the future is not about change, but about maintaining the endurance of the past. And that's where I step in, because I'm better off governing the outside world, than trying to control my inside world."

The Senator stopped popping Brazilian nuts into his mouth and fixed his gaze on an old black and white, faded photograph of a Potomac ferry on the far wall of the room. Was he remembering his youth? A sober expression replaced the relaxed look of a moment before; it seemed as if he was mentally reviewing the million Senate battles he had gone through and the myriad experiences he had had in a long and distinguished career in the Senate. His tone was philosophical when he said:

"True, time catches up with everyone. Those young voters who think I am too old, will themselves get old and with age they will acquire wisdom and maturity. If they don't vote for me in 2008, I am sure they will in 2012!"