A Very Strange Evening

Last Monday, December 12, 2011, I spent an evening with Newt Gingrich and nearly 1,000 of my fellow Granite State citizens at the Windham High School.  I want to declare up front that I have not decided which of the Republican nominees I will select when I walk into the voting booth on election day.  It’s strange that I’m still undecided since I usually pick a favorite early on in the process; but then Monday was a strange night for me, in many ways.

As I drove down Route 111 and turned left onto London Bridge Road, I looked up and saw a bright, full moon. Wondering what affect this would have on the evening’s proceedings, my mind began to wander back in time.  This is a known occupational hazard for Historians in Training.

The term lycanthropy came to me as I turned into the high school parking lot.  For centuries full moons have been associated with various types of magical phenomena.  Lycanthropy, one of those phenomena, is the generic term for the transformation of a human being into animal form.

I got out of the car and forgot about my musings as I worked my way through a group of occupier-like young people decrying Mr. Gingrich’s corporate/capitalist connections.  My companion asked them who they planned to vote for and they pointed to the Speaker’s photo on their protest placards.  Very strange.

There were people everywhere and we barely squeezed into the auditorium where the event would take place.  A palpable level of excitement permeated the room as we awaited the entrance of the former Speaker of the House.  When he finally arrived there was a standing ovation and after a few opening remarks, he took questions from the audience.

One ninth grader, self-described as very nervous, wanted to know why the dastardly corporations were bribing members of congress to include pizza as a vegetable in the school lunch program.  “Pizza isn’t a vegetable”, he insisted, “After all, it’s the best thing there is.”  His point was clear. Pizza could never be a vegetable, because a vegetable could never be “the best thing there is.”  Concerned that 30 percent of his contemporaries were overweight, including himself in that category, he finished by asking Mr. Gingrich if as President he could hold down the level of bribery in Congress.

The Speaker handled the question masterfully.  He began by saying how sad it was that our young people’s expectations had been lowered to such a level that reducing bribery was the best they could hope for.  Suggesting actual bribery was rare in Congress; he blamed the Super PACs for the problem and suggested the election laws be changed to end all contribution limitations as long as every political gift was reported on the Internet the day after it was made.  The crowd cheered enthusiastically.  Then, making a lycanthropic observation, he explained that he had long ago realized the Lord made him a raccoon not a gazelle and he could empathize with the young questioner’s weight issues.  Very strange.

For the rest of the evening, Mr. Gingrich bonded with the attendees.  Nearly every one of his responses was greeted with loud applause, and many heads nodded as he spoke of the changes that needed to be made in Washington.  Standing behind the podium, relaxed and genial, his white hair glowing under the stage lights, he could have been anyone’s grandfather.  Not only was he well received by those in the auditorium, he was enthusiastically encouraged, speaking to their fears, doubts and aspirations.  He was on a roll.  A Pastor’s wife leaned over and said to me, “I want someone older to be President, someone with experience and wisdom.  I’m tired of these young men who don’t know what they’re doing.”  She could have been talking about her grandfather instead of Newt Gingrich.  Very strange.

As the lunar-influenced activities continued, my mind once again wandered back in time.  The name Harold Stassen popped up.  Governor of the liberal State of Minnesota from 1948 to 1953, he ran for President in 1944, '48, '52, '64, '68, '76, '80, '84, '88, '92, '96 and 2000, never achieving that elusive prize, the Republican nomination.  He described himself as a liberal (moderate) Republican, serving as a delegate to the San Francisco Conference that established the United Nations, President of the University of Pennsylvania, and Director of the Foreign Operations Administration under President Eisenhower. 

Mr. Stassen was an intelligent, accomplished, well-respected, tenacious man who served in the government, private and even religious sector, but could never seem to find the combination needed for nomination as the Republican presidential candidate.  It must have been disheartening for such a talented, ambitious man to repeatedly reach for his dream and never be able to grasp it tightly in his hand.  Thinking about Mr. Stassen, I began to feel sorry for Mitt Romney.  I seldom feel sorry for millionaires who are front runners for their party’s presidential nomination, but I couldn’t help it.  Very strange.

Following Mr. Gingrich’s remarks, I moved to the auditorium exit, and who should approach me but Michael Barone, Washington Times columnist and Fox News contributor.  He asked questions and pontificated about various topics for nearly fifteen minutes.  It was the first time I ever met a national columnist and TV personality, particularly one who would stop and chat with a Historian in Training.  Very strange.

A full moon, lycanthropy, Harold Stassen, Michael Barone, Newt Gingrich talking reasonably, bonding with a clearly conservative audience, what a strange evening.  I can’t wait ‘till the next full moon.