My two-pence on Mike Pence

My claim to fame today is that somewhere in the dusty files of the now-defunct Catholic Times there is an seven or eight-year-old article of mine with quotations from a telephone interview that I conducted with then-U.S. Representative Mike Pence. Frankly, I don't remember what the article was about (some religious freedom-related legislation, I think, which is unsurprising given the similar legislation that he signed as governor causing such a firestorm in Indiana a few years ago), but what I do recall is that the congressman was friendly and articulate, and that he spoke in a measured, reasonable manner. An articulate, measured tone is nothing to sniff at from a reporter's perspective, as interviews can otherwise be a heck of a lot of work to transcribe.

But more important by far is friendliness. Indeed, a single friendly conversation can go a long way towards enduring affection, and so I've clung stubbornly to my positive impression of Pence even through these past several months of his freely willed association with a man about whom I have had difficulty feeling good. Along those lines, since Trump is probably too busy to give me a phone call, I'll have to settle for his "charm offensive" vicariously experienced through the inestimable Peggy Noonan, whose fine column with that anecdote from the weekend WSJ can be viewed here.

So, I've never been without respect for Mike Pence, and all this is a prelude to saying that my respect for him has doubled with the fine statement he gave today regarding Friday's Broadway play incident. For those who haven't been following the news: On Friday the vice president-elect went to a production of the popular Broadway musical Hamilton, which depicts the life of Alexander Hamilton, one of our nation's Founding Fathers. The Washington Post's account says that Pence was booed as he entered, and that he was booed again at the conclusion of the performance, at which time members of the cast stood up and addressed a statement to the vice president-elect expressing their anxiety and concern that the new administration would not protect them (presumably the LGBT community and illegal immigrants).

President-elect Trump's response to the cast's statement was a "tweet" calling it harassment and demanding that the cast offer an apology. My own take was more bemusement than Trumpian offense, as words are pretty light fare compared the marches and looting that occurred in several cities in aftermath of the election. "Sticks and stones may break my bones" is relevant here, and politics is a no-holds-barred sport, at least as regards the oratory. 

My true annoyance, actually, was that the folks involved in the staging of this work of art--for that is what a drama is--would feel compelled to "interpret" it for the audience. As regards Pence's admittedly troubling stance on immigration, isn't the chorus, "Immigrants, we get the job done," sung by the play's Hamilton and the Marquis di Lafayette regarding the Revolutionary War, where France came to the colonists' aid, powerful enough a statement? Artists have been tempted from time immemorial to interpret art for their bone-headed readers, viewers, audiences, whatever--to "make them see," as Joseph Conrad famously puts it. But this is artistic poison, as people rarely like being told what they're supposed to see. They'd rather see it for themselves. 

To return to my statement, though--politics is indeed a no-holds-barred sport, at least as regards the oratory. BUT... it takes graciousness, compromise, and friendliness to get things done. There was nothing but graciousness in Vice President-elect Pence's statement today that for his own part he was not offended, and that the Trump administration would be committed to serving everybody. 

Maybe some of Pence's graciousness will rub off on Trump. Or maybe it's already there, as Noonan muses in her column about the possibility of there being "deeper reserves of humility, modesty and good intent lurking around in there than we know." 

"Let's hope," she says. 

Yes, let's.

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This blog entry marks my reemergence as a writer after three-plus years spent in the dusty, quiet realm of academia. Okay, not really dusty, as the cleaning crew usually does a fantastic job, and not really quiet, as I currently teach at a Catholic prep school that prides itself on "joyful noise" along the lines of St. John Bosco, but you get my point. I plan to post on Sundays and Wednesdays, and I say so publicly in order to hold myself to it. Please, comment and engage, either here or on Facebook. I'll leave comments open so long as the conversation remains civil, and I'll participate so long as I have the time to do so.

The title for this blog comes from "Burnt Norton," the first poem of T.S. Eliot's Four Quartets. More on that in a future entry, I hope.