Skip to main content

Respect Yourself

George Reedy was a former press secretary and political writer who served under Lyndon Johnson. Probably more intellectual than most Presidential Press Secretaries, and sometimes thought of as a Johnson whipping boy, Reedy was nevertheless a keen observer of the White House and the institution of the Presidency.


In writing about the bitterly fought 1964 campaign between Johnson and Barry Goldwater, Reedy noted how the respect for the office of the Presidency was quickly restored after the heat of the campaign ended with the final results. You might recall that Johnson was running for his first elected term after finishing out JFK's term. This was the campaign that featured the infamous "Daisy" political add where a child's game of "loves me, loves me not" was superimposed over an exploding mushroom cloud. In the end, despite the taunts, insults, and fear mongering, Johnson won a landslide victory.
George Reedy once noted that the day after the election, when the President met with Congressional leaders, Goldwater, then Senator from Arizona, was there beaming with the rest of them. It was Mr. President this and Mr. President that. he concluded that despite the bitter campaign, the respect for the office of the President was intact. That the leaders in Congress, especially those in the losing opposition party, never lost respect for the President.
My how things have changed. As the nation debates the recent finger in the face of President Obama by the Governor of Arizona, we might do well to pause and ask where that respect for the office has gone. I'm not really all that surprised, are you? Culturally, we are more polarized than ever and many of the once taboo restrictions on language in thought and action are gone. I've real all manner of reactions to the finger pointing incident and I must say the best appears here:
http://phillisremastered.wordpress.com/2012/01/27/a-teachable-racial-moment-on-fingers-pointed-in-black-faces/
Yes, we have lost a good deal of civility. That fact stands in line with the overall malaise that sensitivity and appropriate behavior are slogging through right now. Listen to me, I sound like Ms. Manners here, but some things are painfully obvious.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Quality of Optimism

 I've returned to The Book of Qualities, by J Ruth Gentler once again to meet the needs of one of the senior students in my little Writing From Memory class I'm currently teaching in my local community center.  This little volume personifies various concepts and personality traits.  The particular student "in need" seems to be fixated on writing about her past relationships.  Apparently, there were many.   I'm OK with that.  I only hope that she picks a few qualities that are as revealing about herself as those that might describe her Ex's.  There is much to be learned by writing about a quality.  The aforementioned book seems to have survived well over the years.  I first encountered it and its author way back in the late 1970s.  I took a journal writing workshop from her.  Then, a few years later, her book came out and I introduced these writing exercises to my students.  11th grade Juniors seemed to do the best with it. ...

Mr. Greene v. Mr. Brown

I want to tell you about something. Something I've carried inside myself for a number of years now. Perhaps if I were a different kind of person I wouldn't need to talk about it. I'm not. My need to tell it is stronger than your need to hear it. Because, however, there are a number of teachers and former students of mine who may read these meanderings from time to time, I need to tell this story all the more. About 7 or 8 years ago I was asked if I would allow a university PhD. candidate to observe an English class. At first I decided against it because I was scheduled to have a student teacher placed with me the second half of the semester in question. After some urging, however, at the request of a respected colleague, I agreed. Soon I was committing to extra meetings, signing documents and explaining to the class in question who the young woman who thoughtfully pounded away on a laptop in the rear of the classroom three times a week was. I knew that the topic of ...

Writing on the Wall

       The first time I saw graffiti that was memorable was in a middle school bathroom.  As 6th graders I often walked home with friends by the middle school we'd soon be attending.  A stop by the boys bathroom near the boys gym placed me face to face with a piece of graffiti that immediately madame and my friends laugh uncontrollably.  On the wall above the urinals, was penned a short poem that read"                     This is a Teepee to take a pee pee,                         Not a wigwam to beat your tom tom      14 year-old humor at it's best.  The laughter my friends and I experienced was cathartic.  Being bottom of the barrel Freshmen could have dire consequences in the boys bathroom.  Those unpleasantries would come later, but for the moment, we were ecstatic and proceeded to read all the g...