Old Strom Thurmond died the other night, I suppose proving something about folks who spend their whole lives working and find nothing left to do when they retire. He was a mixed message sonofabitch during his many terms in office, sometimes hiring black folks to work for him ahead of the curve and then turning right around and filibustering civil rights legislation in the Senate.
I met the old fellow once, about five years ago. We had gone to the Capitol to sit in on a night session approving the President’s actions against Iraq, this was at the same time as the impeachment verdict came down. Sure enough, coming out of the building as we were going in was the old Senator leaning on the arm of an aide. He took a sort of sideways glance at us – we were dressed in full Federal Civil War dress at the time – and I think considered we had come to burn him out. Mumbling something about damnyankees, he was quickly hustled out into the night.
Odd dude.
I am sure I had more to say but this has been a peculiar day and I’ve still got to catch a plane to Bean-town before I sleep. So much for “rest for the weary.” It looks to be a very rough couple of weeks.