As many loyal readers might have surmised, I got passed over for vice president again this election. Maybe it’s just as well, what with my spotty record as, well, a human being, I guess.
For the past month, I’ve been fascinated by the detailed opposition research into the life of our governor, Tim Walz, since he was named the Democratic candidate for vice president in the upcoming election. I shudder to think what they’d find out about me were I running.
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Of course, I’ve been passed over before, in too many elections to count — not enough fingers. That’s one reason I couldn’t be selected for such a high office: I still count on my fingers. It’s a habit I got into as they tried to drive arithmetic into my brain in elementary school and I never broke the habit. Math has never been my strong suit.
But when I see all that they’re dredging up about Gov. Walz, I breathe a heavy sigh of relief that I wasn’t chosen. They’d have dug up my old report cards and seen that I always got bad marks in math and tended to be a daydreamer, staring out the classroom window. What a disgrace.
There’s other stuff that they’d find out about me too. As a youngster I never liked onions. How could an onion hater ever be elected to high office or even low office? America’s onion lovers, clearly a large majority, would never vote for me. I’m unsure where Walz is on the onion issue, but I’m betting we’ll hear before the election.
I graduated from high school and college but didn’t get the best grades, I admit. The opposition would find out about that. But to my credit, I once got a “B” in college Speech 101. (To B or not to B? That was the question.) This would have been in my favor in politics where you have to give a lot of speeches. Actually, variations on the same speech over and over.
Years later, I was asked to give a commencement speech at my alma mater, and I responded to the invitation by asking if they’d seen my transcripts (grade records). But I did it anyway. I titled my speech “The Skin of Our Teeth,” a sly reference to all the grads who’d made it through like me.
Like our governor, I joined the National Guard after completing my education but not out of patriotic fervor. Men of my generation were subject to be drafted into the United States Army at age 18, or when they completed their education. It was called your military obligation. So, I joined the Guard after college to avoid spending two years on active duty, just six months.
I was not a good soldier. Ouch! Let me put it this way: I was not a bad soldier, either. I just did what they told us to do, shined my boots and stayed out of the way. Political opponents looking into my military record would surely find out about the time I was cheating with one knee on the ground doing multiple punishment pushups and got kicked in the hind end by a drill sergeant whose name was Sgt. Poisson. This was in basic training, also known as “boot camp.” I’ll say.
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As an aside, I might as well point out that our other drill sergeants’ names were "Savage" and "Drear." "Savage," "Poisson" and "Drear" — this does not bode well for your first months fulfilling your military obligation. But I made it through and served in the National Guard for six years, achieving the rank of Specialist 4, a low rank about the same as corporal, the same rank as Napoleon (“Little Corporal”) Bonaparte in France.
My crowning achievement was that I was a fast, accurate typist. The Army loves typists with shiny boots. Napoleon’s crowning achievement was that he became emperor.
Onward. After I left active duty while still serving on the home front, I found myself back home and jobless. My father suggested I try journalism because I wrote what he thought were good letters home from the Army. The top editor of this newspaper at the time decided to give me a try, and I hung around for 42 years.
As a result, I have known enough politicians to realize that a background in journalism would not recommend one for high office like vice president. True politicians generally dislike journalists and are wary of them. True journalists are suspicious of politicians and are wary of them. This does not mix well.
I met a lot of politicians during my active journalism career including two vice presidents, Hubert Humphrey and Walter Mondale. I also covered a local appearance by another candidate for vice president, William Miller.
William Miller? Who, in heaven’s name? I think it’s safe to say that I am the only person still alive who remembers him. He was Republican presidential pick Barry Goldwater’s running mate in 1964 and was taken seriously while campaigning in Duluth, dashing around the University of Minnesota Duluth campus with a full entourage of aides and press. Find out for yourself who Barry Goldwater was.
The way things turned out, I don’t think either of them liked onions.
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The Trust Project
