Happy holidays! And welcome to this special holiday edition of The Johnston Papers. Your local daily may be taking the day off, but at The Johnston Papers, we’re always on the job. And yet, you’re paying for the newspaper, while this publication is free (and much better written). Makes you wonder.
Got a card from the Patakis a few days ago. Yes, the New York Patakis. Oh, I was as surprised about it as you are. At first I thought it was in the wrong mailbox, but my name and address were clearly printed on it. And the return address also left no room for doubt: Governor and Mrs. George Pataki, Peekskill, NY. It even had a first-class stamp.
The greeting on the front of the card said, “Happy holidays from the Pataki family.” Inside was a picture of (I assume) the very same family.
Now, the cynic in me (if there were a cynic in me) might think this was just an early play for my support in the 2008 New Hampshire primary, and that the governor of New York doesn’t really care about my holidays or even have the foggiest idea who I am. But that explanation was belied by the message inside, which clearly was written specifically for me:
“It is with great appreciation that we remember the many special friends who have stood with us during the past twelve years. We will always remember your dedication, loyalty and sacrifice.”
Well, he nailed it. Dedication, loyalty and sacrifice. That identifies me about as conclusively as my Social Security number. Without question, the governor knows me like the back of his hand—and he will always remember my fine attributes.
But here’s where it gets embarrassing. Although George (along with his wife, Mrs. George) has fond memories of me, I’m drawing a total blank. I have no recollection at all of ever meeting the guy, let alone standing with him during the past twelve years. Which is kind of odd, because, frankly, he’s famous and I’m not. After twelve years as a special friend of the governor of New York, you’d think I’d remember something—a walk on the beach, a snowball fight, a night of bar hopping, something.
What makes it even more curious is that I actually have had a number of brief, Zeligesque brushes with famous people over the years, and I tend to remember them. For starters, I was a college classmate of Mr. Pataki’s successor, Governor-Elect Eliot Spitzer. We weren’t exactly best friends, but I do remember at least one time when he sought out my advice. (“Hey, buddy, which way to the bar?”)
In law school, I shared a podium one evening with Archibald Cox. Years later I appeared on a Broadway stage with Penn and Teller. I collaborated with John Roberts (okay, and a few others) on a petition to the U.S. Supreme Court. I introduced Howard Dean at one of his early New Hampshire appearances in the 2004 primary season. And, of course, I’ve partied with (or at least been at the same party as) David Souter on a few occasions. But who in New Hampshire hasn’t?
I have pretty clear memories of all of those encounters. Yet none of those guys ever bothered to send me a Christmas card. Of course, they’re not (currently) running for president, either. Well, I guess Teller’s thinking about it. No, wait, that’s Joe Lieberman.
Anyway, it’s an interesting reversal that finds me getting a holiday card from a famous guy whom I have no recollection of meeting. Clearly, our relationship needs some mending.
As it happens, I’m driving to Pennsylvania next week to visit my mother, and the halfway point of the trip is right around . . . Peekskill, New York! Well, what kind of chump wouldn’t stop to visit someone who’s been his special friend for twelve years?
After all, it’s bad enough that I forgot to send them a card. The least I can do is stop and do some catching up with George and Mrs. George. I probably ought to call first, but given our special friendship, I assume it’ll be okay to just show up and crash on the couch.
I look forward to re-connecting with several other special friends in the next few months. Any day now, I should be getting my cards from John, Rudy, Barack, and Hillary.
