Forgetting Myself

My wife Rachel is a tremendous centering force in my life. I need her just now.

My former student, Tom DeRosa, called me last night to ask if I would speak this morning at the breakfast meeting of the New Hampshire Convention Delegation. Having attended yesterday morning’s breakfast with an All-Start speaking line-up I instantly looked for a way out. So I played my “convention speaking invitation avoidance” trump card. It always works.

“Tom, I’d love to do it, but since I am vice-chair of the NH Executive Branch Ethics Commission I can’t endorse any candidate and my remarks would have to be neutral in connection to every election campaign."

Knowing that every such breakfast is a pep fest for McCain and Palin, I was not prepared for Tom’s reply

“Great, thanks for doing it. We need a second speaker and I couldn’t find anyone else.”

So, armed with another four hours of sleep, and coffee left over from last night, I dragged myself out of bed and to the Hennepin Room of the Minneapolis Hilton. Being in a second consecutive week of a sleep deprived state I had not noticed all the media in the room when I arrived. Rather I instantly went for the coffee and whatever gluten-free tidbits I could find.

Seeing another former student in the room, Allison Welch, I asked her if I was speaking first or second? She looked at me with pity and said she had no idea and curiously excused herself.

So I sat down and began to eat. You can understand why I literally inhaled all of my tidbits at once when the first speaker was announced: Karl Rove.

My friend Scott instantly looked at me, patted me on the back, and assured me that he’d be there for me next week as a pallbearer.

For the next 10 minutes I was simultaneously transfixed by Karl Rove’s rhetoric and wondering how in the world I was going to follow him with a soliloquy on what Alexis de Tocqueville had to say about “Democracy in America” with this audience.

“Hi, I’m Dale Kuehne, and I want to speak with you about a dead Frenchman.”

“Hi, I’m Dale Kuehne, and I’m having a heart-attack.”

There is no way to begin such a talk. But in the best tradition of the theater I went on with the show. The world did not end and no lives were lost.

If I had time to think I would have begun to obsess about how the press would report my talk. But I didn’t have time. Earlier this week, in a moment of weakness, I disregarded my first cardinal rule of political life–never do live TV—and I agreed to do a live TV spot at Noon on ABC. (As of today I now have a second cardinal law, never agree to speak following Karl Rove)

So even though I didn’t have time for a needed change of clothes I drove to the Xcel Center for my interview. Only when I got there, did I discover I was going to be interviewed live by Sam Donaldson.

At this point, I passed out of consciousness.

As the Broken Records sing, "If the news makes you sad, don't watch TV."

When I came to, the ABC staff were scraping the make-up off my face, and everyone was telling me what a good job I did.

Amnesia is a gift.

But when Sam himself thanked me for my contribution, I left ABC feeling a little too good about myself. I was deluding grandeur all afternoon.

But after the caffeine and adrenaline had subsided, I fell fast asleep in my seat tonight after the National Anthem. I instantly engaged in an epic dream rooted in an ego gone wild. It seems John McCain decided he wasn’t made of the right stuff and had withdrawn from the Presidential race. Sarah Palin was taking his place, and she was speaking with me about being her vice-president. To show how far my ego was misleading me, I said yes, and in so doing thoughtlessly threw away my career on the N.H. State Executive Branch Ethics Commission. Immediately, I went about writing my acceptance speak for tonight. “Change a Dead Frenchman Believed In." But before I could have my moment, I fell over and hit my head on the railing in front of me.

As I woke up I realized how much I am missing Rachel.

I need some serious centering and a change of clothes.

My new convention mantra, “Just Say No.”