On Politics

SENATOR BERG? MAYBE NOT

As North Dakota Democrats scramble to find an opponent for Rick Berg, our state’s self-appointed next U.S. Senator, perennial candidate Duane Sand has stepped in to fill the breech until Democrats get their act together. In an announcement last week so underwhelming even I, one of the state’s most avid politics-watchers, didn’t hear about it until today, Sand said he would oppose Berg for the Republican nomination at the party’s convention next spring. And then he let Berg have it with both barrels for not being conservative enough.

On his website, Sand trumpets “The Real Story About Rick Berg.” Under a picture of Rick Berg that is bigger than the picture of Sand himself, he offers a link entitled “Read It Here” which takes you to the Heritage Foundation’s website offering on Berg. The headline there reads “Rep. Berg receives a 59% Heritage Action Score.” That website offers:

“Every year, The Heritage Foundation, a conservative think tank, releases scores on each member of Congress. The scorecard allows Americans to see whether their Members of Congress are fighting for freedom, opportunity, prosperity, and civil society. Rep. Rick Berg received a 59% Heritage Action Score in 2011.”

Sand provides a link to the scorecard, which features a bunch of right wing ideas the Heritage Foundation thinks are good ideas. Berg voted against the wishes of the Heritage Foundation 40 per cent of the time.

Right beside that link is the link to Sand’s announcement, which reads, in part:

“For several months I have weighed entering the United States Senate race. Last weeks’ (sic) debt ceiling abomination sealed it for me when Mitch McConnell and Rick Berg misled us with the debt ceiling deal. They could have helped America avoid a downgrade of our AAA rating. Instead they mortgaged our future and let Obama and Reid off the hook with Trillions more debt spending,

“Rick Berg was the only Republican running for Senate to vote for the debt deal. We sent Berg to Washington to cut the size of Government. Instead he’s voted with Nancy Pelosi almost 40 percent of the time since arriving in Washington. For that he expects North Dakotans to promote him?

“I know what it takes to earn a promotion: duty, loyalty, and an unswerving commitment to core principles. Congressmen Berg is a good man, but he simply has not earned a promotion to the Senate. That is why I am announcing my candidacy today for the Republican nomination to the United States Senate.”

In the issues section of his website, Sand goes after Berg again:

"Rick picked political expediency over taking a stand when he voted for the backdoor debt ceiling deal. In just nine short months, he became a creature of Washington, voting for more spending, and siding with Nancy Pelosi and the Democrats 41% of the time. He was also the lone Congressman, running for the U.S. Senate, who voted for the debt ceiling extension this past August, which will add as much as TEN TRILLION DOLLARS to the total federal debt.”

Well. You go, Duane!

Meanwhile, there’s talk in Democratic-NPL circles in North Dakota that recent announcements by Sen. Ryan Taylor and former Rep. Pam Gulleson about races for Governor and U.S. Congress may be leading up to an even bigger announcement by former Attorney General Heidi Heitkamp about the U.S. Senate race. The story goes that polls show Congressman Rick Berg is about as popular right now as another water tanker truck on U.S. Highway 85, and that’s driving Heitkamp to consider a run. The Washington Post reported last week a poll done for the Democratic Senate Campaign Committee shows Berg, in a trial heat against any Democrat, leading by only 4 points, 44-40. An incumbent who’s under 50 per cent against an unnamed opponent is generally in trouble. And his favorable/unfavorable numbers are worse. 33 per cent rate him excellent or good, while 55 per cent rate him either fair or poor. Anyone reading those polls would say his star is fading fast.

Grand Forks Herald Editor Mike Jacobs picked up on all this in his column last Sunday, saying “This (Heitkamp/Gulleson/Taylor) is perhaps the strongest ticket Democrats could hope for in North Dakota . . . In the end, of course, the names of the candidates could be less important than the political climate. In 2010, the political worm turned toward Republicans. It would have to turn the other way to elect any North Dakota Democrats in 2012. Suddenly and unexpectedly, North Dakota Democrats may have a ticket to take advantage of the turn — if it happens.”

We’ll see.

ROUGH RIDERS

Fargo radio talk show host Mike McFeely wrote on his blog this week about Gov. Dalrymple’s most recent appointment to the North Dakota Rough Riders Hall of Fame, the state’s highest award.

“Apparently North Dakota’s Rough Rider Award has morphed into a Chamber of Commerce Lifetime Achievement Trophy. Given recent history, there is no other way to look at it.”

McFeely was commenting on the appointment of Ron Offut a couple weeks ago, following closely on the heels of two other Fargo businessmen, Bill Marcil and Doug Burgum. McFeely goes on:

“. . . there is a disappointing trend in whose portraits are being hung in the state capitol in Bismarck. Three of the last four Rough Rider winners are big-time, fabulously wealthy, good ol’ boy, Fargo (and, it just so happens, Republican) businessmen. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Bill Marcil (Forum Communications), Doug Burgum (Great Plains Software/Microsoft) and Offutt have played important roles in their industries, communities and philanthropic endeavors. They are worthy of state-wide recognition.

“But can we all agree that the Rough Rider Award has taken a right turn somewhere along the way? It once was something that recognized North Dakotans who have achieved great things in the world of entertainment, sports, literature, art, military, education and, yes, business. Now it looks increasingly like a country-club pat on the back.”

Ouch.

But a look at the record is interesting. If you sort the award winners over the years, dating back to Gov. William L. Guy, into rough categories by occupation or areas of achievement, here’s what you get:

Arts – 9

Professionals – 8

Business – 6

Athletics – 4

Military – 4

Education - 3

And a few that don’t really fit any category: Former Secretary of State Warren Christopher, Pioneer Aviator Carl Ben Eielson, longtime Legislator Brynhild Haugland (the only awardee recognized solely for a political career), and Elizabeth Bodine from Hazen, appointed during the International Year of the Child because she had 18 children. You can look at the list here.

I don’t know Ron Offut, but I know and like Marcil and Burgum. Both of them share with me a love of the Bad Lands and both own land and spend time there every year. That makes them good people in my book. Like McFeely, I agree that both should be in the Hall of Fame. But I remember thinking when Marcil got his award about 5 years ago, and still think to this day, that if another businessman is honored, it should be Harold Newman. His is truly a rags to riches story, but more than that, he is so creative, and so loyal to his home state, and so extraordinarily North Dakotan. Besides, he built the world’s largest buffalo, and now, more than 50 years later, it is the true North Dakota icon, and that’s just that, whether you like it or not.

If you read McFeely’s whole blog, you read that he says we should all be recommending people for the award. So here goes. Harold Newman is nearing 80. In spite of McFeely’s skepticism about businessmen, it’s time to get this one done. And then after that, Clay Jenkinson.

RIP, ROLLIE REDLIN

Rollie Redlin died this week. He was 91. Well, sort of. Rollie was a leap year baby in 1920, and if you’d have asked him last week how old he was, he’d probably have said 22. Rollie was a great man, and a man I liked and admired immensely. He’ll be buried on Saturday back in his hometown of Crosby.

I worked for Rollie during the 1981 Legislative session, when he was the Senate Minority Leader. Before that, he had served a term in the U.S. Congress, elected in 1964. I loved it when he would tell me, with excitement in his eyes, what it was like to be a Congressman during that pivotal, historic 89^th Congress, the session that enacted Lyndon Johnson’s Great Society programs. He told me how rewarding it was for him, a Democrat, and a liberal one at that, a dirt farmer from North Dakota, to be a member of the Congress and cast his vote on behalf of the people of the West District of North Dakota, for the Voting Rights Act, the creation of Medicare and Medicaid, the founding of the National Foundation on the Arts and Humanities, the Highway Beautification Act, the Freedom of Information Act, and the National Historic Preservation Act, among many others.

Rollie spent just one term there, then came back to North Dakota, where he became a banker at First Western Bank in Minot, now the Hoeven bank. And a leader in the Legislature for 15 years or so. Rollie remained active in the community well into his 80’s before he and Chris moved to Rapid City to be closer to family. I called him a few years ago as I was driving to Minot to see if he and Chris could have supper that night, and he said he would sure like to, but Minot High had an important basketball game that night and he and Chris had to be there to cheer the team on.

Rollie served in the Legislature from 1973-1990, during the time of great decisions for our state. The four leaders in the Legislature those years were Earl Strinden and Richard Backes in the House and Rollie and David Nething in the Senate. The four were friends. All were great speakers, but Rollie was an orator. One of the best I ever heard in the Legislature. I’ll miss him.

Cirrus From The West

The sky over Bismarck this morning was as beautiful as an 8 a.m. sky in September ever gets. I took a picture and am trying to put it into this blog post. I hope it works. It is not a great picture because I am not a great photographer, but it gives you an idea of what I was looking at as I drank my coffee on the patio.

But the sky was big and blue and bright, and this lineup of high, semi-puffy clouds was moving across from west to east as I watched in fascination. I was reminded of a book title, “Cirrus From The West,” by Paul Southworth Bliss. I’ve shared some of Bliss’ poetry with you in the past. He’s a North Dakotan who published a number of books of poetry here in the 1930′s. I couldn’t remember if there was actually a poem entitled “Cirrus From The West” or not, so I went and dragged the little book off my shelf to find out.

The book has a hard cover and a dust jacket and was published in 1935 by Lakeside Press of Chicago. It’s only 50 pages, and it contains 38 of Bliss’ poems about North Dakota–none of which is titled “Cirrus From The West.”

But Bliss wrote a foreword to explain his title. It reads:

Undisturbed by surface turmoil, certain clouds of delicate and fibrous texture, softly white, may often be seen between the 9,000 and 46,000 foot levels, high above the other strata, moving almost always toward the east, since they are subject to the control of the great trans-continental air currents.

Though indicative of present weather stability, they herald changes generally from one to two days distant. Never as dramatic as cumulus, alto-cumulus, and nimbus, they are proof of the law-abiding nature of winds and weather, cool, shadowless portents of tranquility.

They are cirrus clouds from the west.

That’s it. While he mentions cirrus clouds in the book, he offers no other explanation of why he chose the title. But there are some wonderful poems in the volume, starting with the one below. (You will note at the end of each of Bliss’ poems, he includes the date and the place he wrote it, as well as author’s notes, generally giving a little more information about the site.)

RED SYMPHONY

Under a Red Sky

Bones

Of the Mandans

Lie Strewn

Amidst

Thistle

And

Tipsin

And

Pigeon Grass.

Red Ants

Pouring

Endlessly

From

Earth-mines,

Bring up

Bone-bits

Mixed

With

Red clay.

Wheat,

Fevered

With

Rust,

Burns

Redly

On the

Prairie.

The sun,

Tearing its way

Through

Thin-textured

Cirrus,

Reaches

Red fingers

Toward

The Earth's

Parched throat,

July 21, 1935, Bismarck, N.D.

Tortured by mosquitoes, I walked, accompanied by former Governor and Mrs. Thomas H. Moodie, over Sleep Hill, ancient burial ground of the Mandan Indians. It is now cut asunder by the highway, has been desecrated by numerous souvenir hunters, and is honeycombed with red ants. The wheat fields under a pitiless sun were alive with rust.

I wasn’t sure if the clouds I was looking at this morning were cirrus clouds or not, so I came in and Googled “clouds.” I think what I learned is that these are actually cirrocumulus clouds, but I’m not sure. If there are any cloud experts out there, please let me know.

One last note on Paul Bliss: Some of his best poems are about North Dakota in winter, and I’ll share those with you when winter comes. They, like the one above, are some of the Best Things Ever Written About North Dakota. Right now, I’ve got to go cover my tomatoes. (If Bliss is right about cirrus clouds, we’ll have warmer weather by Thursday and my tomatoes will thrive again. Just have to get past tonight’s frost.)

The Tenth Aniversary

Yes, it has been a long ten years.

On August 29, 2001, I sat beside my wife’s bed as she looked up at her doctor, exhausted, pale and gaunt after two years of unrelenting chemotherapy, and said “No more. No more chemo.”

Quietly, the doctor said, “You know what that means.”

“Yes,” Rita answered. “How long?”

“Up to six months, probably less,” the doctor replied.

We were both silent. The doctor left us to move to his next patient.

Rita’s hospitalization at Medcenter One in Bismarck had been lengthy. We had settled into a routine. I had supper and spent every evening with her, and went home after watching the first ten minutes of the ten o’clock news. That night was no different. Except that when it came time to go, she asked me to lie down beside her in her hospital bed. I did, and we held each other close, and I asked her if she was afraid. “I’m not afraid to die,” she said. “But I am afraid of the pain. Please don’t let there be pain.”

The next day, we went home together, under care of hospice, and although she insisted she was going to stretch that six months to the limit, we began making preparations for her death. Our priest came and we talked of the funeral, of the scripture verses we would use. We talked to Chuck Suchy about the songs he would sing there. We talked to the funeral home about cremation. We called the kids, and other family members, and told them what was going on.

And then came that awful day in September.

By September 11, my employers and our friends had rallied around us. I was working mornings only, caring for Rita the rest of the time with the help of our hospice nurse, and three of Rita’s best friends were rotating morning caregiver duty while I was at work. That Tuesday morning, September 11, I was walking from my office to the conference room for a staff meeting, and as I walked by the TV in the lobby, I heard the announcer say that a plane had hit the World Trade Center. We buzzed about it a minute as the staff meeting began, and then, as the meeting ended and I walked past the TV back to my office, I watched in horror as the second plane hit the Center. Then we knew the first plane had been no accident. All morning, we huddled around the TV to learn what was going on.

I left at noon to go home, and arriving there, found Rita and her caregiver doing the same. The friend left. We continued to watch. And then, at some point during the afternoon, I stood up and shut off the TV. We decided that was enough. We had enough to deal with in our own house, without fretting over something going on thousands of miles away. We decided right then that we would not watch another television report, or read a newspaper or magazine story, about what had just happened.

And from that moment on, we blacked out the events of September 11, 2001.

“We’re going to think happy thoughts, have happy conversations, and we are not going to let what goes on outside our own world distract us from that,” Rita said firmly. “No more bad news. We’re going to do what we always do in the fall.”

And from that day on, we knew little of what happened in the days and weeks following September 11. We turned on the TV only to watch our favorite shows like “West Wing” and “Jeopardy” and “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?”. When we opened the newspaper, we read only the good news stories, skipping anything to do with September 11 or terrorism. Rita sat in a lawn chair as I worked in the garden, as I raked the leaves, or just sat with her on the deck on those beautiful fall evenings. She supervised my canning of tomato juice. She reminded me to water her flower beds. She greeted each visitor who came, ostensibly to say goodbye, with a smile, reassuring them that she had most of six months left to live. What she didn’t do is allow any bad news to cross her threshold—or mine.

Still today, I read the newspaper, or Newsweek magazine, faster than almost everyone, because I skip every bad news story—famine in Africa, wars in Afghanistan, tornadoes in Kansas, murders in Mexico—and I know only what I see in glances at headlines. I tune out bad news on television and radio. I can live without bad news. I cannot live without happy news. I guess my exception is politics, but for the most part, politics is not violent. So far.

And so, on this tenth anniversary, the events of September 11, 2001, have little meaning to me, little impact on my heart or my mind. September 2001 was the saddest month of my life, but not because of some terrorist attacks on our country. I watched Rita weaken, and made sure she had the pain medicine I had promised, and on September 29, with her brothers and sisters and children and mother and I at her side, she closed her eyes and took her last breath. During that month of September 2001, all of us had focused on her, on her comfort, on making those radiant eyes of hers glow with hints of happiness even in her, and our, darkest hours, on making the best of every moment she was with us. For those of us in that close little circle, it was as if the events of September 11 never happened.

I am letting this tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001, pass mostly unnoticed as well. I am not watching television shows about it, or reading newspaper accounts or magazine stories. I am not attending ceremonies commemorating it. I am working in my garden, canning my tomatoes, walking with the dog, playing golf, and, hopefully, going fishing, this month. Those things I do EVERY September. Instead of terrorists and plane crashes and the terrible smoke and dust, I am thinking about Rita this month, and fortunately, I have a spouse now who both understands and encourages that. But I will not allow myself to be sad. I will think happy thoughts, read happy news, remember the good days, and my personal tenth anniversary, September 29, will pass.

Yes, my world, our world, changed forever in September of 2001. We cannot go back. But we must go forward. And we must do what we ALWAYS do in September. We’ll do it a little differently, but if we try, we can do it happily.