Oh, Governor, How They Love Ye

Vilified, scandalized, chastised could describe the man who, for some odd reason, won reelection to the Garden State’s chief executive chair. Oh, don’t we just love to kick a guy to the curb when he’s vulnerable? It’s the mean spirit that dwells within so many, which seems to again indicate, we elect mortals to office yet we expect saints to preside. Something just doesn’t connect.
Regardless of what we may want to believe, politics is not for the timid or thin-skinned. Regardless of the party’s name, it is a system that can easily run afoul of snowy-white motives. This is not new. Any student of history could rattle off administration after administration, on just about every level, that had some “dirty laundry” hidden in the back closet. Some were fortunate in not having it rock their little “ship” too hard while others have sustained mortal wounds.
“Stupid” might be the word that exemplifies actions that wrought havoc to Gov. Chris Christie. Was he the master of his fate? Who knows? Who will ever know?
It would not surprise me one bit that, since the latest target is Chris Christie, some rogue will attempt to draw conclusions that Christie was personally responsible for hurricanes Irene and Sandy, so that he could utter that quotable phrase for the good of all Aug. 26, 2011 “Get the hell off the beach.”
Realizing some perhaps took his directive to heart two years later after Sandy’s wrath tore the shore from limb to limb, the good governor placed himself, front and center, in the camera’s eye and reminded the tourist masses, New Jersey’s seashore (beaches) were “stronger than the storm.” To wipe away the taint of Irene, maybe he ought to have declared, “Get the hell on the beach!” Of course he did not, but given the heat of the past few weeks, I’m betting he would go for that right now, and revisit, for a fleeting moment, when he was U.S. Attorney for New Jersey speaking to the Sept. 11 ceremony at Crest Haven.
I would place hard cash that Chris Christie would, at this very moment, opt for a long, quiet walk on a cold Cape May County beach than be in the international limelight, trotting about the nation raising dough for this Republican or that Republican because he’s chairman of the Republican Governors Association. If not, maybe he wishes he could watch his son’s baseball game, only by car this time.
Timing is everything, we know, still it may puzzle some well-meaning tourist who recalls that “Get the hell off the beach” abides by the order and tosses the travel brochures and decides to spend a fortnight vacation in Fargo, N.D. or Grand Teton National Park where, presumably, things would be safer and more enjoyable than wiggling toes in the “strong” beaches of the Jersey Shore.
The day before Sandy struck, when the regional metro media convened at the Anglesea Firehouse for a Christie alert “last guy out shut off the lights,” the atmosphere was more like an election campaign than a doomsday premonition. Local politicians and officials were literally tripping over each other getting brief face time with the big guy.
When the Guv finally appeared that day, the adoring crowd behind the yellow ribbon cheered. Caesar would have been so jealous. Some snapped photos with their children and him. Others stretched out their hands to touch the man who might someday win the hearts of his countrymen and fill out a change of address form for 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. in D.C. Ah, how sweet it all was back then when Sandy was looming and faith was strong.
Now, I suppose when he’s done with the gym (after which we were told he first learned of the flap that has drained the smile from his face) he might think back to days like those in Anglesea.
“They loved me,” he might think. “They absolutely adored me. They looked up to me. They knew I was a straight shooter. They respected me. Now look at this mess.” Just like that “Life of Riley” TV series when William Bendix would, post-pickle, sadly utter, “What a revoltin’ development this is.”
Cape May, being the Republican county that it has historically been, surely has its stalwart Christie supporters, even in these dark days. They know the storm will pass. Like little Annie, they’re likely crooning, “Guv, the Sun’ll Come out Tomorrow.” That’s called loyalty and it’s in really short supply lately.
Enter CapeGOP Chairman Michael Donohue Jan. 9, after Christie’s contrite press conference. He issued the following in response to the George Washington Bridge lane closures: “Gov. Chris Christie today demonstrated the kind of leadership that he has become known for throughout New Jersey and the nation. His statement today was a rare and refreshing “buck stops here” moment in politics that we have not seen in many years. By apologizing and taking responsibility for the actions of certain staff members and being decisive in dealing honestly with the issues, Gov. Christie has set a higher standard for our other political leaders and elected officials.”
Any astute politician knows several facts of public life, and Christie likely has all memorized:
1. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
2. Forget last week, what have I done for you today?
3. Voters have extremely short memories.
4. Keep your little black book up to date, you may need it tomorrow.
5. Don’t luxuriate in the good life, it will end too soon.
In the meantime, maybe the governor will take in a few schools. Youngsters won’t realize he had their best interests at heart wanting them to go to school longer so they can be better when they graduate. Third graders have no point of reference to graduation. Future voters may recall his classroom visit.
He’d get some good press, answer a few jocular questions from unknowing students, “What’s it like to ride in your helicopter?” “Did you have to go to school to be governor?” “What did you want to be when you grew up?”
Such disarming queries would put “Bridgegate” in a whole new light. Photos would be spread abroad with smiling children beaming in colorful classrooms. Oh how thankful those voters’ memories are short. How sad they wanted a saint and instead got just an ordinary human.