Silicon Investor (SI) -- The First Internet Community

STOCKTALK

We've detected that you're using an ad content blocking browser plug-in or feature. Ads provide a critical source of revenue to the continued operation of Silicon Investor. We ask that you disable ad blocking while on Silicon Investor in the best interests of our community. If you are not using an ad blocker but are still receiving this message, make sure your browser's tracking protection is set to the 'standard' level.

Politics : PRESIDENT GEORGE W. BUSH -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: Sedohr Nod who wrote (103958)	12/7/2000 8:13:02 AM
From: John Carragher	Respond to of 769667

Losing Can Be Liberating, Al By Lamar Alexander. Mr. Alexander has served two terms as Tennessee's governor, run for president twice, and served as U.S. secretary of education. I have a soft spot in my heart for Al Gore because he called to console me when I dropped out of the 2000 presidential race (barely) before it became absolutely necessary. I am now hoping Al will do the same -- get out before he is called out. This would be good for the country. It will reduce recriminations, strengthen the presidency and remind the world that our institutions work. Most of all, it would be better for Al. Our family has been thinking about the Gores and the Bushes, wondering what their lives must be like as they lurch daily between sudden death and victory. For which family will there be the agony of losing? For which family will there be four more years of a smiling spouse, of children followed by the Secret Service, of parents wincing as some comedian caricatures the presidential son as a nincompoop? "I don't know about you dad, but I'm glad we're not in this mess," said our oldest son last week. Of course, I would prefer to be in it; that's why I tried -- twice. I wanted the joy of winning and the opportunity to serve. I certainly didn't want the loser's messy job of discovering a new life. But I have found that in losing there is new freedom, a delicious privacy and the opportunity for new service. So, as events continue to work against Al, here is my advice to the vice president: Private life can be positively liberating. Do what you want to do instead of what you are expected to do. Watch ESPN instead of CNN. Go to concerts instead of caucuses, to games instead of events. Learn to drive again and to open doors for yourself. Spend time with family and friends instead of Dick Gephardt and Jesse Jackson. Read in the morning (start with the sports pages, then Henry David Thoreau and finally "Huckleberry Finn"). Come home at night. Make an easy million replacing Colin Powell at the Washington Speakers Bureau. Take time to think about the real purpose of life, to consider Daniel Boorstin's warning that celebrity is merely "being well-known for well-knownness." Real joy is finding the path of authentic service to the world. Visit Jimmy Carter to find out how you can use your celebrity to become a hero. Come home to Tennessee. More people voted for you here than voted for Bill Clinton or Ronald Reagan or George Bush Sr. Drop by the Bluebird Inn at 10 p.m. and laugh with songwriters making fun of someone other than you. Go to Titans games on Sunday and let placekicker Al Del Greco worry about winning in the last few seconds. Join the ranks of prominent Tennesseans who have also had trouble at home in their presidential races. When Andrew Jackson backed Van Buren as his successor, Hugh Lawson White of Knoxville challenged him on the Whig ticket. In 1844, James K. Polk lost Tennessee to Henry Clay. Estes Kefauver, running with Adlai Stevenson, lost to Eisenhower by 5,781 votes in 1956. Our congressional heroes have had their ups and downs, too. Your father's mentor, Cordell Hull, lost his House seat during the Harding sweep. Davy Crockett lost his congressional race and left office in 1835, prompting him to utter that most famous of all concession speeches: "I'm going to Texas and you can go to hell." For your concession speech I would recommend something gracious and unifying. (People always remember the last thing you do.) Deliver it (just) before the end, not after. And if, in the style of Lincoln, Churchill and Nixon, this is not the last political thing you want to do, you'd be wise to respect that old Australian proverb: "Rooster today; featherduster tomorrow." Mysteriously, the more comfortable you seem with not coming back, the more the media will encourage your return. Those who have made fun of you will start missing you. Suddenly there will be a yearning for a leader who has always prepared to be president. Journalists will remember your vote for the Gulf War, resurrect your role in the information highway and reflect on your moving speech at your father's funeral. Disappointed Democrats will demand and cheer your presence at Jefferson-Jackson Day dinners. In the meantime, for solace, I recommend Emily Dickinson: How dreary to be somebody! How public like a frog To tell your name the livelong day To an admiring bog! Or perhaps another of the poet's most enduring lines is appropriate: Success is counted sweetest by those who ne'er succeed.