July 25th, 1974. A date that will live in obscurity (except for two of us)

[DFW]

14. That's a legitimate question

It's less dramatic that you might think. I'm not an under-director of the CIA or anything.

My father was a very distinguished (but very un-celebrity-seeking) print journalist in Washington from 1950 to 2000. His last column, which I have posted on DU before as an inspiration to all those with potentially (or definitely) fatal diseases, or people who know people who have them. His last column appeared 8 days before he departed this world. He represented a one-horse town on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Upstate New York, and had to know every politician from the Great Lakes states for his articles. Think about that for a second. Thomas Dewey, Gerry Ford, Hugh Scott, Phil Hart, Bobby Kennedy, Jake Javits, Everett Dirksen, Hubert Humphrey, Fritz Mondale, Nelson Rockefeller, and then ALL the Senators and Congressmen that knew the others. Frank Church, the progressive Senator from Idaho (can you believe there ever was such a thing?) used to come out to our house in Virginia, as did Charlie Goodell, the guy Spiro Agnew hated with a passion. Plus he was on Nixon's 1959 trip to Russia, and knew Nixon well (VERY funny story about him--for another time if you want to hear it). My first time in the White House was when JFK was president because a cousin of my dad's was Caroline's tutor. The first time I met a sitting president was LBJ because my dad was invited to a reporter-and-son press conference at the White House in the mid sixties. His mom was involved in progressive politics in New York in the 1940s, served a labor adviser to legendary mayor LaGuardia, later got kicked out for being too pro-labor. She was an early supporter of the Minneapolis mayor, then trying for a Senate seat (Humphrey). We've known the "Minnesota mafia" ever since. Helen Thomas was a close colleague of his for decades, so I knew her for nearly 50 years.

My dad passed in 2000, but not before having attained the presidency of the Gridiron Club, an elite organization of journalists that puts on a roast of the whole US government once a year. The president of that gets to bring his family to meet the President and VP of the USA. I haven't seen Al Gore much since then (1995) but WJC and I have sort of kept in touch sporadically. Closer friends of his than I meet up once a year (Veroncia Biggins, Phil Lader, Chelsea's mom-in-law, etc.). These occasions are also where I met Howard Dean back when he was "Howard Who?" as well as many other political and media types. We got to be friends with some MSNBC people as well, and see Krystal Ball and Myke Kandel regularly when we are in NYC. Same goes for "Good Morning Vietnam" legend Adrian Cronauer, who most people wouldn't recognize if they tripped over him in the street. He is NOTHING like the Robin Williams portrayal of him in the film, by the way. Adrian is soft-spoken, highly intellectual, and (of all things) a Republican. His IQ is about double mine, so it was no use trying to talk him out of it.

While in college in Washington DC, my younger daughter interned with EMILY's List, where Senator Barack Obama was a regular visitor. I attended one of their yearly things in May, and my daughter introduced me around. That was the first time I met Obama as well.

My only work-related acquaintance of the bunch here, ironically enough, is Marvel Comics legend Stan Lee. Since my work is almost all in Europe, South America and Asia, meeting up with a guy who rarely leaves Southern California these days might seem weird. But my immediate superior knows him well, and when my wife and I flew to L.A. to see our elder daughter get her associate degree from FIDM, he said we should have lunch with Stan Lee. I said, sure, right, THE Stan Lee was just going to have lunch with the likes of me. But he did set it up, and Stan at heart is still the jovial sassy-mouthed Brooklyn kid he grew up as. We got along great, and we stayed friends ever since, met up a few times, though I rarely get to California any more these days. He even helped me a little with my book, and gave me one of the greatest lines as a plug (it's on the back cover). If his health holds (he'll be 93 this December), and mine does as well, I hope to see him again next year when I have to be out there next (Peggy, be forewarned!!).

My brother is better-looking than I am, but the beard stays. I have a condition of overly-sensitive skin (Arafat had it, too) that makes me turn red like a boiled lobster if I shave. I refuse to keep it a permanent short stubble by using nail clippers, like Arafat did, so I just let grow out. I have been mistaken for both a Taliban member and a Rabbi (I adhere to neither faith), but there was no way I was going to be presentable to pretty girls (my condition got really bad starting at age 18) if I looked like a failed version of Batman's Joker. So I let it grow out, and had the good fortune to meet and marry a woman who, even at our current age of 63, remains, as you pointed out, stunning.

Good thing our girls got HER genes, eh?