Reconsidering Bill Clinton and The Third Way

In recent days, PBS aired another installment of its captivating series, "American Experience," exploring the life and presidency of William Jefferson Clinton.
In the spirit of full disclosure, I am an evangelical conservative. And according to the unwritten political rules of this worldview --at least according to some -- the very mention of the nation's 42nd president must ignite a firestorm of hatred.
After all, remember the noms de guerre his political enemies pinned on the man from Hope.
Adulterer.
Liar.
Slick Willie.
Bill Clinton was a sinner, as are we all.
And as the only true rules of evangelical conservatism -- the code found in the Bible --remind us, repentance deserves forgiveness. Only God knows the heart of Bill Clinton.
That said, I miss President Clinton.
Don't misunderstand. No one misses deliberate falsehood. No one misses seeing a family's public pain over marital infidelity,or the national nightmare of impeachment. No one misses "It depends on what your definition of is is."
What I miss about Clinton in this nightmare of a political season is the willingness to find a Third Way of governance.
Clinton masterfully steered a middle course between liberal and conservative, leaving the nation with a budget surplus, a precious memory in these days of unsustainable deficits.
An economic boom, unprecedented in the post-war period, created jobs and expanded the middle class. It's an arguable presumption, but given the cyclical nature of economics, policies of previous administrations may have also helped trigger the boom. That, however, is an issue for another time.
And, a Republican House and Senate created a perfect climate for compromise. Statesmen and women in the Congress --like the Kansan Bob Dole --saw the need for compromise. As a result, meaningful change occurred --budgetary responsibility, welfare reform, jobs.
(As one of the unemployed --with two degrees and 25 years of experience in my pocket-- it's little wonder that the mid-90s bring a warm fuzzy feeling).
But what I miss most about Bill Clinton is his compassion for people. Bill Clinton, "The Comeback Kid," is the finest politician of his generation, simply because he cared about people. He had "The Gift," the ability to make individuals from all walks of life feel they were the most important people in the room.
During a Q and A in a country store in New Hampshire in 1992, a woman began to weep as she shared her struggles to pay for  groceries and medicine.
Clinton stepped from the makeshift podium and embraced her, tears in his eyes. Clinton didn't talk. He listened.
In 2005, Clinton and his predecessor and one time political opponent George H.W. Bush, visited Grand Bay, Ala., in the days after Hurricane Katrina. On this day, two men well-acquainted with the power and opulence of the Oval Office, occupied folding chairs and listened as one by one, everyday people told their stories. Millions of similar tragic tales drowned the Gulf Coast from Alabama to New Orleans.
Bush, the elder, had been hardened by war. Clinton softened by battles in a broken home.
Both men asked  simple questions that no one else from the Beltway bothered or cared to ask:
What do you need?
How can we help?
 On that day in Grand Bay, as with the woman in 1992 New Hampshire, there were hugs and tears and heart and listening.
Bill Clinton and George H.W. Bush get it.
Barack Obama, Rick Santorum, Mitt Romney and Newt Gingrich don't get it. Though because he was there, Gingrich should understand the power of the middle way, but has political amnesia. The current field of candidates possesses a flawed civic religion, empty of heart and deeply in love with the sound of its own voice. There is in the current field a distant arrogance that despite all good intention,doesn't really care about families and children and the elderly. They care about power and pandering to "the base."
The Comeback Kid is white-haired and gaunt these days, busy at doing what former presidents do. This country, sadly, does a disservice to its former chief executives, and its people, by not drawing from the wisdom forged in the world's loneliest office.
We could stand a kind word and a hug, and more than a few ideas from The Comeback Kid.
Kid,come back.
 We need a refresher on the Third Way and how to come back as a people.

A hug and a listening ear wouldn't hurt.

Publisher called layoffs 'painful' while pocketing bonus - Washington Times

Welcome to My Porch

Growing up in Alabama, one of my family's annual rituals was to travel to Fayette County for "Decoration Day," the annual May sojourn to the Oswalt family graveyard to adorn the final mortal resting places of those gone before.
There was preaching, singing and eating and much "Bless your heart."
But it must be said that all was not warm and fuzzy.
It was a true miracle that no one died of food poisoning from eating potato salad  that had been left to marinate in the scorching late spring sun. And it was also a great wonder that no one suffered toxic shock from overexposure to Aqua Net ( the official hairspray of the Southern Baptist Convention).
God be praised.
But the best part of Decoration Day was traveling to my Aunt Addie and Uncle Bill's house for a healthy dose of what Addie called, "Davis Creek culture."
There, my great aunts and uncles and cousins from the South side of the family tree hugged and laughed and ate.
Then the women adjourned to the kitchen, the men to the porch. I knew life had changed when I was welcomed to the porch. Football was talked here and politics and food and current events. And there was remembering, of old politicians and of "The War,"  of gridiron greatness and the news of the day.
The men spoke of times-- glorious days  before PACs and consultants and Chris Matthews and Ann Coulter-- when candidates needed only a few tools to campaign. A flatbed truck, a bluegrass band, a firm handshake and a strong stump speech,  along with the courage of conviction to look a fellow in the eye and ask for his vote, was enough.
The time always dried up before the conversation. Then there was more hugging, more sweetness, and another small bite to eat before hitting the road home. The aroma of coffee and hydrangeas hung in the air.
It is in the spirit of Bill and Addie's porch that this blog launches. All are welcome here to talk football and faith and politics and family and news of the day. The only rule here is the Golden one: Treat others as you would wish to be --with civility, respect and kindness.
This porch, I hope, will be as I imagine Atticus Finch's would be: Open to all, save the Bob Ewells of the world. There is no place for them here.
I hope you find this humble effort worthy of your time. Pull up a chair and visit a while.