Jeff Gibson
A few weeks ago, President Obama played the lead role in the annual White House Turkey Pardon farce. He looked upon the biggest, fattest, most privileged and whitest turkey in America … and promptly pardoned it.
What happened next was even more bewildering. A smaller, less-advantaged and undoubtedly browner bird went to the chopping block to feed the First Family. That part you never hear about. That part is not an orchestrated media event that lets the majority of Americans smile smugly in the knowledge that in one small way, at least, all remains right in America. What was Obama thinking about? Even Eric Holder looked the other way.
That puzzle will never be solved, but it offers an opportunity to talk about the sad state of being sorry in today’s America.
The turkey pardon ceremony was witnessed by Elizabeth Lauten, the communications director for a Republican congressman from Tennessee. Lauten went on Facebook to complain that the presidential daughters appeared bored and inattentive while their father granted the pardon. Grow up, Lauten told the girls. “Try showing a little class.” “Rise to the occasion.” “Dress like you deserve respect.”
Of course the girls were bored. Who wouldn’t be if he or she had to attend a staged ceremony repeated countless times over the years with the same, wretched conclusion?
Lauten was informed from many quarters that she should have buttoned her lip. The First Family’s children are supposed to be off-limits to petty criticism. In response, she resigned her job with the congressman. I don’t know if she said she was sorry, but at least she took responsibility in a meaningful way.
‘Taking’ responsibility
A different writer recently asked what it means to say you’re sorry and that you take responsibility. What is it that you actually “take”? Usually, nothing.
But not always. Sometimes, responsibility can be forced upon you, whether you say you are sorry or not.
For example, not long ago a man and his wife went to court to ask a judge to make the Bank of America stop harassing them with collection calls. They had gotten behind in their mortgage payments and said the bank bombarded them at all hours of day and night with calls, hundreds of them.
The bank was not so attentive to the judge. It missed his deadline for responding to the complaint, so the judge entered a default judgment of a million dollars in favor of the couple. At that point, the bank decided a response might be a good idea, after all. It asked the judge to reconsider. The judge refused. Whether the bank was sorry or not, it now had to take responsibility in a concrete fashion. “Take that!” the judge said.
In other cases some of the sorriest people you will ever meet get away with it just by saying they’re sorry.
In the case of MSNBC host Martin Bashir, the offense involved his telling a story about a brutal slave owner in olden days who punished runaway slaves by forcing other slaves to defecate in their faces.
Bashir suggested that might be a good way to punish Sarah Palin for thinking differently than he did. Some folks thought that was a bit over the top, and said so, at which point Bashir decided it was time to say, “Sorry.” But if he “took responsibility,” it’s hard to see how. Last I heard, he was still with MSNBC.
Out of the loop, out to lunch
Back in Iran-Contra days, attention focused on the roles of the top dogs in Washington.
George H.W. said, “I was out of the loop.” Maybe he was. He went on to become president.
On the other hand, when a senator of his own party interviewed President Reagan on the subject, he found something beyond that. Texas Sen. John Tower said afterward that Reagan didn’t seem to be just out of the loop while they talked, but seemed to be out of the room itself. But Reagan was the Teflon president. Nothing stuck to him so he didn’t have to say he was sorry.
President Nixon tried the famous “limited hang-out” route. He ‘fessed up that certain folks in the administration had a little something to do with Watergate. He did take responsibility, but not manfully. He lost his job because of Watergate but couldn’t quite say it. In his farewell address to the nation he said he was quitting because, “I have lost my base in Congress.” I think he lost his marbles. He was about to be run out of town on a rail and got out while the getting was good.
More recently, Professor Jonathan Gruber of MIT didn’t have the luxury of offering those explanations. And being a whip-smart intellectual, he knew it. Videos of his bragging about advising that Obamacare be written in a non-transparent manner in order to fool “stupid Americans” were popping up all over the place. So Jonathan came to realize that he was sorry and said the required words.
Maybe he even took responsibility, but not in any consequential manner, So far he has resisted calls to give back his consulting fees and to do us all a favor by no longer advising the government.
When I was much younger, I noticed that automobile bumper stickers were getting a bit smutty. I instructed my children, therefore, that the only ones they were allowed to read were the ones that said, “Save the Whales,” or, “Praise Jesus.” They promised, so that took care of that.
Look away, kids
In retrospect, I wish I had gone further. The dumbest slogan in history was popular back then, the one that said, “Love means never having to say you’re sorry.” I should have cautioned the tots against that one, too.
How many philandering husbands have believed that, only to discover that the little woman had a different point of view? Arnold Schwarzenegger was one of them. His wife terminated the marriage. She was rich and good-looking, too, and that hurts! So Arnold learned, sorrow aside, that taking responsibility can mean a real penalty.
When a male public official strays and gets caught, the aftermath is usually predictable. A public announcement is scheduled. The offender will be there. Too often, the aggrieved wife will be there, too, dragged along by hubby, who finally discovers that he needs her, at least for a show of support.
Then Romeo says, “I made a poor choice, for which I am suitably sorry. But a single bad choice doesn’t make me a bad person, blah, blah …” And while the assembled reporters urp on their shoes, he gestures toward the humiliated, grim-faced wife and goes on to say, “and this matter has had a positive result. It has made our marriage even stronger!”
And wife thinks, “Yeah, right, Bozo. Wait till you get the subpoena.”
I could explore the matter further. I could go on and on, but Kemmick just rang the bell. Have to go now, and if I have offended anyone, I am truly … you know.
Jeff Gibson was born in Livingston and worked at the Billings Gazette as a young man. He retired from the Montana Standard in Butte, where he now lives. Gibson is the author of two novels: “Last Rites of Passage,” which he calls a coming of old-age story, and “Outlaws,” a story of love and money in the New West. Digital versions of both are available on Kindle and other readers, and hard copies through Amazon.
