If someone were to rifle through my stuff at the end of my life, or some other point in my life, you'd discover a picture of me, and then Senator, and future Vice President, Joseph R. Biden.
Did I meet Joe? Yes. Are we buds? Hardly. But that represents a major turning point in my life. Namely, when I looked behind the curtain and learned there was as much bullshit in politics as there is in High School.
The first time I "met" Joe Biden was outside St. Joseph's on the Brandywine Church. I was about 12 years old. My father made me be an alter boy for my entire childhood, and through high school. After Mass, I came from the back of the church after getting out of my alter boy's robes and my father was talking to some gray-haired balding guy surrounded by church people. My main thought was how quickly we could leave.
My Dad had a pose for uncomfortable social situations. He sort of hunched his shoulders and rubbed his hands together. This sounds sinister, but it looks like shyness, not plotting to kill James Bond. He had this pose at the time.
Upon approaching my father, he introduced me to Senator Biden. They went to high school together and knew each other. he Senator put his arm around me. I've never been touched by a priest or anything, but this was rather uncomfortable for me. At that point I noticed Joe's daughter, who looked like a prettier mirror image reflection of my discomfort, possibly MORE embarrassed because I can only assume she had to deal with this rather often. After a few minutes of talking about Archmere (the prep school our two very different families both attended- fathers and sons/daughter) Joe moved on to people who would ACTUALLY vote for him. (Dad is a lifelong Republican. Barry Goldwater type. Regan was too liberal for him.)
Through my time in High School, my father played golf with the Senator on random occasions maybe two or three times. Maybe only once, who knows. HE tells a boring story where he claims to have stumped the Senator. I've never seen Biden at a loss for words, so I sort of doubt this tale.
But that chance connection, which ended with my Dad, was profitable for me. (His daughter, Ashley, and I were never friends. Different circles two years apart, which is a lifetime in high school. Sort of doubt if she knew of my existence and the thought did not bother me. I had plenty of other girls I wished would think about me, but probably never did.)
I studied politics and international relations in college. I was SURE I'd change the world and be awesome. So my father, perhaps under the same delusion as me, called a friend who worked for Biden, I wrote an application letter, and next thing you know, Mr. Anderson went to Washington to intern for the Senate Foreign Relations Committee.
I did some interesting work researching topics and putting together binders for committee hearings. The most interesting was preparing the briefing binder for the confirmation hearings of Ambassador Richard Hollbrooke as ambassador to the U.N. Bored yet?
What did I really learn in DC? Senator Strom Thurman was a creepy old man who got lost in the Dirksen Senate office building. (or was it Rayburn? I forget.) He had clandestinely groped a female intern's breast while taking a picture with her. You know, arm around her, hand on sideboob, "accidental". Ted Kennedy's office smelled like whiskey. In 1999. I think he was allegedly sober at that point. He also yelled a lot.
Everything was a dog and pony show.
Senators and Congressmen made speeches to empty halls for CSPAN. Well meaning citizens with good causes who wore cheap suits were herded towards interns and staff assistants who threw out notes after their "meetings". Defense contractors, well funded organizations met with senior staffers over lunch at expensive restaurants. Interns were used to prepare detailed and personalized responses. Their meeting notes often were used to strat research projects. And these were Democrats, progressives. Republicans dismissed the poor suit meetings out of hand.
But there were two other Joe Biden interactions I wanted to share. First, my exit meeting, where I got that photo-op. I explained I was on my way to Germany a week later to study abroad for a year. I was a double major in German and had extensively studied the fall of the Soviet Block. However, Joe decided he need to regale me with a lecture of Eastern Germany. He was half right, half wrong. But it was clear his mindframe seemed to be: talk first, think second. So the media has sort of nailed that about him...
The next instance was the summer picnic at his house in Delaware. He opened his home and had a BBQ for the whole staff. He talked to everyone. He and I talked cars. He had an old Corvette, I think a 1967. My Dad had a 1970 Porsche 911T. In talking about his car, his family and the openness he had with his staff, I realized: this guy believes in it. He gave a shit. Sure he was arrogant, too talkative, and probably out of touch but he BELIEVED it.
Joe was good friends with Jesse Helms and Strom Thurman. He bought into DC. From one summer there I didn't. As I write this 4 years into JAG Corps life, I still don't and I doubt I will. Sailors (and Soldiers, Airmen and Marines) love their country. Politicians love themselves, no matter how much they believe they're doing the right thing.
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