Playing Well With Others
Yesterday, I heard a snippet from an interview with guitar legend Carlos Santana, one of my favorites, and he was talking about the current presidential campaign. He thought he should have a say in the outcome, since he pays “a whole lot of taxes to the government.” His idea was that Barak Obama and Hillary Clinton should be co-presidents, with “Obama working the night shift, and Clinton working the day shift. Obama can stay home, while Clinton goes around the world cleaning up the mess Bush has made out there.” I guess Carlos is a Democrat!
It’s an interesting idea, but probably not palatable to either candidate, let alone John McCain!
International relations always is a topic of news and discussion. Former president Jimmy Carter recently was criticized for his Middle East trip, as he was not acting within the parameters of official U.S. foreign policy.
I once had an interesting experience pertaining to foreign relations, during my tenure as Executive Director of William Penn House, a Quaker-related seminar center in Washington, DC. It involved a group of perhaps a dozen Russians booked to stay with us for several days, under the sponsorship of American University. The morning after their first night at WPH I showed up for work and Barbara Silverman, the resident House Manager, was waiting for me at the front door. “This can’t be good,” I thought as I bounded up the front steps. It wasn’t.
Barbara told me that a number of the Russians were drunk during the night (alcohol and drunkenness were against the stated rules for guests at WPH), wandered into rooms occupied by other guests not associated with their group, and made suggestive overtures toward Barbara and others. After thinking about what to do, knowing that Barbara was very upset, I asked her to point out the miscreants to me, which she did.
If you ever saw the movie The Best Little Whorehouse In Texas, there is a scene in which Burt Reynolds, in the role of the town’s sheriff, goes after Dom DeLuise, who played a sensationalist reporter seeking to gain attention and fame by exposing on television the town’s open secret. The sheriff breathes fire on the reporter, backing him down the sidewalk of the town square, the reporter tripping and stumbling, the sheriff calling him every name in the book while the townspeople look on.
Well, except for the fact I wasn’t wearing a cowboy hat, I was the sheriff, giving the Russians, whom I had cornered, what some people refer to as “down the country.” And I threw them out. The people at American University were not pleased by this turn of events and tried to talk me out of it, but I said, “Get their stuff out of here by this afternoon.” And they did.
Actually, I generally had a positive relationship with folks from their part of the world. The Soviet Union still existed when I began my work at William Penn House, and numerous times I invited representatives from the Soviet Embassy to speak to students. They always seemed willing to comply. I got to know one of the First Secretaries at the embassy, and he was my regular contact for such arrangements. He sometimes came and spoke to groups himself. We never went to the embassy, however.
There was another person the embassy sent several times to speak at WPH. One day I received a telephone call from the FBI asking me about this particular person. Now, how did they know I knew him? The FBI even sent an agent over to William Penn House to question both Barbara and me about this man. We really didn’t have much to tell. All I know is, the next time I called the embassy to invite the man to speak to another group at WPH, my contacts there never heard of him.