To a certain extent, the Democrats knew we were up to something, and that Newt and the Gang of Eight were up to their ears in it. On the other hand, there wasn’t much they could do about it. For one thing, one really gigantic thing, they were still being hammered by the House Bank scandal and the House Post Office scandal. The Postmaster for the House Post Office, Robert Rota, had pled guilty to three separate felonies. In turn, he had tattled on several Democratic Congressman, including the Chairman of the powerful House Ways and Means Committee, Dan Rostenkowski. Ways and Means was probably the single most important committee in the House, and ‘Rosty’ was probably one of the three most powerful Congressmen in the country. Now, even though he was still around, he was a dead man walking.
As a result, the House Democrats were running scared. They were keeping their heads down and desperately trying to raise funds for re-election. Quite a few had announced their retirements, rather than lose in the general election. Mike Synar, of Oklahoma had already lost his seat in a contested primary, a practically unheard of event for a sitting Congressman! Newt actually had a white board up in the clubhouse with a running count of where he was expecting Congress to be at after November, and was practically gleeful at the prospect. The times, they were a-changing!
The girls turned ten that year, which they seemed to think was a big deal. We had to have a big pool party at the house, to which all boys were explicitly excluded! I rolled my eyes and laughed, and told Marilyn that I would take Charlie somewhere for the day. I told the girls, on the other hand, that I was going to bring over Charlie’s old Cub Scout Pack and his new Boy Scout Troop, so that lots of boys would be around. They ran shrieking off to Mom, and she threw a dish towel at me. I told Charlie I’d rather face a House full of Democrats than a house full of little girls, which earned me a second dish towel. He laughed and agreed.
Charlie was growing up, too. He hadn’t hit his growth yet, but I knew it would kick in sometime in the next year or so. He wasn’t thirteen until October, and girls weren’t on his radar yet. When they did come to his attention, though, Heaven help them! Charlie was a good looking kid, and while my tastes don’t run towards men, I can tell if a fellow is good looking or not. I wasn’t sure where his height would pan out, whether he would be taller or shorter than me (there’s a big range in the Lefleurs, from about 5’8" to about 6’2" for the men) but he was blond, blue-eyed, and handsome. His build was fairly square and stocky, not at all like my slim and wiry frame. Now that he was getting older, he had taken to working out with me some mornings, and was doing a lot heavier weights than when I started out at thirteen. Whereas I had been a runner in high school, although not on the team, Charlie looked a lot more like a football player.
In fact, that was a real interest to him. Charlie was going into his first year at Hereford High School, which had football. Hereford Middle School hadn’t. They also had basketball and wrestling and lacrosse. Much as I had discussed with my wife earlier, Charlie was showing signs of being a jock, not a nerd. In addition, Charlie was really getting big into the motocross events. When he had turned twelve, he had applied to and gotten his AMA (American Motorcyclist Association, the sport’s governing body) card as a junior rider. Any victories he got were now going against an official scorecard, and earned him points in national standings.
It was kind of strange, but our little boy was becoming nationally ranked at this insane sport! Tusk Cycles had signed on as a sponsor and was now supplying his racing leathers and helmet (all festooned with their logo). He was still too young to race pro and earn money, but he could go to big league AMA affiliated tracks and race. He had moved up to an 85 cc bike now, which made an appalling racket and scared both his mother and me, but he loved it. He was really dominating the Maryland tracks he had been competing in, and we were now talking about trips to other areas. How we would schedule that, I had no idea. I assigned that task to him and Tusker.
Part of the reason we went along with this was a conversation I had had with my namesake, Bucky, last summer shortly after Carter died. Bucky was 15 at the time, and he told me he was giving up racing.
“You don’t like it anymore?” I asked.
Bucky smiled and shrugged. “I like it, but I’m never going to be a real winner.”
“What do you mean? You’re just going to give up?” That didn’t sound like the Buckman Tusk I knew.
“No, it’s just… Uncle Carl, it takes a lot of time, and I’m never going to be as good as I would have to be. I’m not like Charlie. He’s just unreal! I was okay as a little kid, but at my age, I’m not even above average.”
“Huh.” I gave him an odd look. “Charlie’s really good? I mean, I’m not a rider, so what do I know!”
He laughed at that. “Charlie’s better at his age than half the racers at my age. He’s one of the reasons for me to get out! For the last two years he’s been smoking my ass blindfolded!” Bucky knew I wouldn’t jump his butt over his language.
“Really?! I mean, I knew Charlie was winning races, but… really?”
“He’s unreal! He has reflexes… you think you’re doing good, and suddenly he blows his way through a crowded pack like he’s on an empty highway with jets up his ass, and you’re like, where did he come from?!” He shook his head with an amused smile on his face. “I could put him in the pro group now and I bet he’d win. He just needs to grow into a bigger bike.”
“Wow! I had no idea. You’re serious?” I asked.
He grinned and nodded. “Have you ever wondered what it must have been like playing on Babe Ruth’s high school baseball team? That’s what it’s like racing around here against Charlie.”
“Huh.” I shrugged. “You’re not giving up on bikes, are you?”
It was Bucky’s turn to grin and give me the are-you-crazy look. “No way! I love riding! Girls like it, too!”
Oh Christ! Bucky was 15 at the time, and he was definitely past the girls-are-yucky stage. He wasn’t street legal yet, but he could still ride at the races. “Oh, boy! Have you mentioned that to your parents?”
“No way!”
I snorted and shook my head with amusement. “Well, if you ever need to talk about that, let me know. You know, in case you want to talk or ask a question you don’t want to ask your parents, hmmm? Maybe I’ll send Charlie to see your old man some day when it’s his turn.” Bucky just laughed at this.
That was last year, and Charlie was improving as he grew up. It was too early to be sure, though. He might become a scholar after all, or he might figure out girls were a more interesting ride than a motorcycle. We’d just have to see.
Chapter 117: A Changing Of The Guard
Newt announced the Contract with America at the beginning of September. By then most of Washington knew something was up, but not the extent or breadth of the plan. The Democrats weren’t stupid. They had their spies just like we did. They knew we planned something big and bold, and they knew we were writing legislation, even if they didn’t have the printed copies in their hands.
Still, it was an election year and they were in survival mode. The mood of the country was changing and the pendulum was swinging from liberal to conservative. Even as the old diehards protested nothing was changing, everybody else was scrambling frantically, often trying to position themselves as conservatives, which made more than a few Republicans laugh.
John Boehner and I were pushing Newt Gingrich hard to make the Contract as showy and public as possible. We wanted this to dominate the airwaves for the next eight weeks, between now and Election Day. Every week was to be a big event. We started with press conferences and announcements, but by the third week of September we had a massive ‘signing’ of the Contract on the steps of the Capitol building. We flew in all the Republican candidates we could find who were running against Democratic incumbents, and had them sign as well. We swore oaths and made promises and shook pinkie fingers and gave each other the secret passwords and did everything we could to bind ourselves to the Contract. I wasn’t sure whether it reminded me more of joining Kegs or of signing the Articles of Piracy on a buccaneer ship.