My child arrived just the other day
He came to the world in the usual way
But there were planes to catch and bills to pay
He learned to walk when I was away
And he was talking ‘fore I knew it and as he grew
He’d say, “I’m gonna be just like you, dad
You know, I’m gonna be just like you”
— Harry Chapin, Cat’s in the Cradle
I remember during my first term on the Cedar Grove Council believing that I could change the world and help everyone. I worked furiously to make this world a much better place. I remember my unbridled enthusiasm, my unrelenting energy, my purity of heart, and yes, my innocence and shocking naivety.
In those days, I leapt out of bed each morning thinking about (some would say obsessively) and working the politics. I tried to attend to every constituent need. I remember devoting many days and nights to countless meetings—planning board, rent control board, recreation advisory, historical society, etc. etc. As a 25-year-old mayor I knew it was a sacrifice, but I told myself it was for a greater good and a better future. I prioritized public service and prioritized politics as I balanced my legal practice and my social life. But to be clear, my overwhelming focus was my politics. I was an office holder, a state legislative aide and a campaign manager. Why am I talking about a lifetime ago?
Harry Chapin’s song Cat’s in the Cradle played on the radio the other day. I hadn’t heard this song for a while and the lyrics washed over me like a gentle wave off Dorado Beach in Puerto Rico. The words jarred a memory or two about growing up in politics and somehow, I decided to write this pithy column. As I listened to this powerfully moving song, I came to understand this the song wasn’t just about fatherhood, it is about time, it is about place, it is about priorities and living with the consequences of your actions.
Politics is a peculiar beast. It teaches you to sacrifice and it teaches you what to do and what not to do. Often politics speaks in sound bites, and you think in terms of votes, election cycles, and gaining footing for the election. But few of us take the time during the 24/7 march to slow life down and get some perspective. That usually comes later in life.
The real trick in political life is not letting this political movement consume you forever. The lucky ones move on and see the larger playing field called life.
Let me be clear, politics at a young age has some terrific advantages. The unparalleled education and front row seats at legislative hearings, budget adoptions, and judiciary hearings soon give you a PhD in the university of life. The exposures to the problems of many and solutions by a few is something that stays with you for life. But to be fair, it does have its drawbacks.
The constant focus on all things political doesn’t allow time for the other things in life. Without guardrails or restraints, living within politics like a shroud has it limits. It limits time with family, limits time with friends, and closes out possibilities in other aspects of life. Time for a perspective call.
The older you get, the wiser you get and you become less obsessed with chasing the white whale. With age, comes the appreciation of the real markers in life, the true family, and few friends that matter.
Over the years, I have watched many colleagues grow old chasing the dragon—political relevance. Those dinosaurs cling to the podium like it is life raft, rehearse tired stump speeches, dye their hair, and obsess over their political standing. Those folks never get perspective, they never adopt a balance and most are condemned to live a life in a small 2D world that has little connectivity to the life-changing particles in our wider universe.
As write this column, I can say with some confidence that I don’t have regrets about my life and family balance. I don’t regret calling it a wrap at my political apex in the Senate when I was still a relatively young man. I ran my twenty-two years and knew it was time to move forward and move on.
While the song lyrics are still ringing in my head, I know that I will never have to confront the harshness of my children putting off requests for family time and claiming that they became “just like me.” Sadly, many of the readers will not be lucky enough to be able to say the same thing.
Let this be a fair warning to the next generation of political leaders: live your life, manage your politics, and don’t allow your all-consuming political ambition to be a lifelong regret.
I’ve long since retired and my sons moved away
I called him up just the other day
I said, “ I’d like to see you if you don’t mind”
He said “ I’d love to dad, if I could find the time”
“you see, my new job’s a hassle and the kids have the flu
But it’s sure nice talking to you, dad
It’s been sure nice talking to you
As I hung up the phone, it occurred to me
He’d grown up just like me
My boy was just like me
