Saving Graces - Elizabeth Edwards [88]
The entire experience was an object lesson in so many ways. The obvious ones are the ones wives liked to cite about fidelity and basic respect for your spouse. But the other lessons, about hubris and hatred as motivators, were there for anyone to see.
During the impeachment trial—which lasted for months—it honestly did not feel like John was away. We talked several times a day, as we had our entire marriage, except when he and Wade were on Mt. Kilimanjaro. We watched him every day at his Senate chamber desk. I’d watch after the proceedings to see if he would talk to reporters at the Ohio Clock, a place the media sets up cameras after sessions to interview senators. He would never stop; the best I could hope for was to see him walk behind the senators who were being interviewed. I guessed that after years of trying cases, he just couldn’t imagine the jurors talking, midtrial, to the media.
But eventually the trial was over, and John went from being a juror to being a senator. It took a little time for John to get his office just right, but he did. Josh Stein, who had run the campaign, came to Washington for a while, until we unfortunately lost him to the attorney general’s office in North Carolina. Finally, Miles Lackey, a North Carolina native who had worked in Washington for a number of years, took over the Senate office, and he is still part of our extended family. Another North Carolinian, Will Austin, managed John’s schedule, saying no to some requests in just the same nice Southern way John would have. Before the real bonds were formed, everyone reached for easy connections. And the easiest connection was our Southernness. Victoria Bassetti, who was John’s first legislative director, and whose family was from Louisiana, would charmingly explain at length her Southern roots. Laura Godwin, Emma Claire’s first babysitter during the campaign, finally had her first paid job with John, and she stayed in the Senate office until the end, becoming more invaluable every day. Lisa Zeidner and Jessica Wintringham from the campaign came too. Cory Menees, whom John had coached in soccer on Wade’s team, worked in the office. David Sherlin, the older brother of one of Wade’s good friends, stayed until he went to law school. Ann Berry, Elizabeth Nicholas, Justin Fairfax, Mike Briggs, Lesley Pittman. And then, as John’s reputation and responsibilities grew, so did his staff. Stephanie Jones, Robert Gordon, Derek Chollet, Carlos Monje, James Kvaal.
There are a hundred names, maybe more, and it is hard to skip even one, because they were—and are—so close to John, and even to me. They would humor me when I would call with whatever I had heard on the radio or on C-SPAN or the news. Miles still teases me about an early-morning phone call. He always says I called at 5:30 A.M., but my mother taught me the wait-until-after-9-A.M. rule, and I (almost) always follow it. He picked up the phone and heard me say, with no hello first: “Plywood. We have to do something about plywood.” I had just heard about shortages in hurricane-devastated areas because the military had bought so much plywood for Iraq that there wasn’t enough for what was needed at home, and the price had skyrocketed. Couldn’t they do something about it? Could he call me back later on this, he asked—like when he was awake? I know I will never get the real truth from any of them about whether they liked my calling with my ideas or peeves of the day or whether it was its own joke. I do know that with me or without me the office had a warm feeling like they were all on the same big boat, each with