Not Your Mother’s Capitol Hill.

That’s me. First row, third from the right in plaid pants.

In my before life, before nursing, I worked on Capitol Hill.  I was dating the senior legal counsel to House Administration and he got me a job lickety split.  From that receptionist job for a freshman Republican congressman, I bounced around changing jobs every two years as some won and others lost their elections.  Finally I worked my way into an actual writing job for the Joint Economic Committee where I stayed for seven years.  These were the best, and certainly most exciting, years of my young life.

I was so young I still remembered some cheers from high school, and found myself the captain of the Republican cheerleading squad for the annual Congressional Baseball Game, held in the old stadium in Baltimore.  My grandmother in California actually saw me on TV as I introduced my team to a packed stadium of about 500 people.  OK.  Maybe there were more, but from midfield it looked pretty empty.

I miss those days, not only because they were in the highlight reel of my youth, but I don’t think they exist any more for anyone.  Back then we could have cared less who was a Republican or a Democrat.  We were there to make money and have fun.  Lots of fun.  If you ever saw the movie St. Elmo’s Fire, I can personally attest to that being spot on to the way things were.

But no longer.  Capitol Hill is a war zone.  And the members are the generals and their staff are the grunts.  Staff answer the screaming phone calls.  Staff read the hate mail. Staff are overworked because no one wants to intern or get a foot in the door for their own political careers.  It is not a coveted job any longer.  I can’t imagine working there now. And I really can’t figure out why anyone would.  Give me a trauma ICU any day of the week.  I’m sure it’s quieter and friendlier and more fun.

But I can’t be the only person on this planet who understands how SOMEONE can think that shooting a member who has a history of affiliation with the KKK is a good idea.  I don’t have a violent bone in my body, but plenty of people do.  (Read The Sociopath Next-door.)  This was GOING to happen.  Hate begets hate.  Crazy behavior begets crazy behavior.  It’s not right, but it is what it is.

And unless and until someone puts a sock in his mouth and a sock over his tweeting fingers, and you know who I am talking about, this rage will continue, and so will the carnage.  “Sad.”


About Patsye

I am an older woman and artist. I love to craft. I love to sew and knit and crochet and needlepoint. I love to paint and draw and make art with my hands. Being creative is what gets me up in the morning. Art is my tea, my fresh air, my good book, and my cats all rolled into one. I have much to share and hope you'll visit often.
This entry was posted in A Day In My Life, Whimseytopia and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Not Your Mother’s Capitol Hill.

  1. Yes, Patsye, hate begets hate unfortunately. This is interesting to find out about your past. Thank you for posting. It sounds like you had a fun and interesting career.

    • Patsye says:

      I did have an interesting life. I try to think of this when I think of losing my only child. In some way, losing him has forced me to word hard at keeping my life interesting….like with jewelry making and painting, taking classes, and taking on projects that I shouldn’t for someone my age. Challenges keep me strong. To be honest, I’m the luckiest/unluckiest I know. Thank you for sticking with me with my rare posts. I read more than I write these days, and usually do so at night when I’m incapable of writing a cohesive response.

      • Well, Patsye, I like your posts and I am glad you are on WordPress. I can’t imagine losing either of my children, but to lose you only child – that would devastate me. I am glad you are doing constructive things to help yourself grow. I wish I could afford art classes! 😉 Have a wonderful day, Patsye! I really like the way you spell your name.

  2. breebree1 says:

    You are so right in your opinion. Thank you for sharing. And I would really like to hear more stories of your youth. Sounds amazing. Hope all is well with you.

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