Gabby_ A Story of Courage and Hope - Alison Hanson [148]
A final decision had to be made. From the hotel room, Pia led a teleconference with Gabby’s trusted advisors from Tucson, Rodd and Ron, and we all went over the pros and cons of Gabby casting this vote. It now looked as if the bill would pass easily. So we looked at the long-term implications of taking a stand on a very unpopular vote. The discussion lasted a half hour. “My advice is don’t do it,” said Rodd. We all knew Gabby wasn’t the type to take the safe or easy way out, but the general feeling was the same as Rodd’s: she shouldn’t do this.
Finally, with time running out, Gabby reviewed the recommendations of her staff. “It’s up to you,” I said finally. “You tell us what you want to do.”
“Vote,” Gabby said. She gave her now trademark fist pump, then added: “Let’s go.”
Though she couldn’t fully articulate her reasoning, I knew Gabby. She’d traveled all this way. She knew her vote would have meaning beyond the final tally because people would recognize the effort she had made to come. It was her way of showing that the mechanics of government, while messy, are still vital, and that it is an honor and a responsibility to cast a vote in Congress. She thought maybe her coming to vote could be a statement about the need to break the gridlock, to resist knee-jerk partisanship, and to remember the high calling that is statesmanship. Her presence could speak to the idea of not avoiding difficult choices.
“OK,” I said. “That’s Gabby’s decision. We’re on!”
Gabby had gone through her clothing choices and selected the teal “wrap blazer” with a ruffle and a belt to tie it up. The bright color was more her style. She had two blouse options, one in turquoise and one in purple, and she chose the more modest purple one. Ashley smartly had bought loafers with traction on the soles, but Gabby looked at the shoes and wasn’t sure if they’d work. She opted for the white sneakers she’d been wearing since morning rehab.
Jen, her operations director, helped put makeup on Gabby. Kristy, her nurse, used hairspray to fluff up Gabby’s short hair.
Kristy thought Gabby seemed contemplative and serious. It was understandable that Gabby would be nervous, thinking about stepping into that giant room filled with more than four hundred of her colleagues. She knew they’d be measuring her progress and her ability to speak. But she also knew they’d be very welcoming and thrilled to see her. She was excited to see how everything would unfold.
We drove the two miles to the Capitol, and when we pulled up, voting had already begun. It would last only fifteen minutes total, so we needed to get moving. Gabby almost fell getting out of the car; I had to grab her arm. It was the excitement, the anticipation, the rush to get inside. I worried about how things would go for her once she got on the floor. It would be crowded. People would be approaching her. Could she stay steady on her feet?
Gabby’s friends Debbie Wasserman Schultz and Adam Smith, a congressman from Washington State, were waiting for us on the curb. We all got into an elevator and headed up one floor. Standing right there when the door opened was Bill Livingood, sergeant at arms of the House.
“Livingood!” Gabby called out, with a smile, and then hugged him. (Bill would later say that there are long-standing members of Congress who don’t even know his name. For Gabby to greet him so affectionately and by name was very meaningful to him.)
John Boehner was also in the hallway, and he was gracious. “Welcome back, Gabby,” he said. She hugged him, too, and wisely refrained from telling him, “Stay out of my district!”
It would fall to Pia and Debbie to escort Gabby into the chamber—without a floor pass, I’d have to watch the proceedings from the Democrats’ cloakroom—and I squeezed Gabby’s hand goodbye and wished her luck.
Within seconds, at about 7:02 p.m., they made their way through the door and onto the floor. “Oh my God, it’s Gabby Giffords!” someone said. The murmuring started at the door and then spread quickly