Word: walks
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...could move in above them. How he came home from World War II not alive or dead but in-between, boxed and crated in a plaster cast, shot up in so many places that he was reduced at 21 to a second infancy, learning all over again how to walk, eat, dress himself with clip-on ties and laceless shoes. How he fought his way from county attorney to Senate leader, driving for miles, stopping in front of every swaying porch lamp to beg, "Vote for Dole. Dole, like the pineapple juice." How he has triumphed in spite...
...with an ease that left his colleagues gasping. "I'd have something important to tell him," recalls Wyoming Senator Alan Simpson, "and so I'd go up to him and say, 'I've got to talk. While I was giving him a one minute, [Arizona Senator John] McCain would walk by and say something, and [Massachusetts Senator Ted] Kennedy would walk by, and three or four other guys too, and I'd think, hell, he didn't get it. So I'd wait a couple hours, next day, and I'd think he's forgotten...
These are the stories we tell one another each campaign season, like elders sitting around the cold embers of a dead fire recalling the glories of hunts past. Every four years, we walk onto the convention floor with an irrational sense of excitement, looking at the state standards that delegates once waved back and forth to demand recognition from the chair, looking at the shiny microphones that delegates once used to raise crucial points of order...
...watch him go still farther away. When he was 21, Leyden joined the Marines. According to Leyden, for the first two years of his service at the Kaneohe Bay Marine Corps Air Station in Hawaii, his supervisors chose to overlook his extracurricular activities. "Off duty, I'd walk around in a tank top so people could see my tattoos," he says. "I wore my Dr. Martens, kept my hair as short as possible and tucked in my pants the way Nazis used to do. I had a Third Reich battle flag in my locker and the Confederate Stars and Bars...
...those who accuse the "Nintendo Generation" of indifference, I urge them to speak--or better yet, debate--with a Young Voter. Ask him or her a political question, and you may very well walk away impassioned with that youthful spring in your step...