I learned the history of my new workplace from the most generous of
teachers - my fellow staffer the quick-witted and knowledgeable Marion McDonald
and the official red-coated Capitol tour guides. Out from behind my desk and the
ringing phones, I fell in love with the place. I was awed by every bit of it -
the maze of marble hallways and heavy mahogany doors, massive oil paintings of
American struggle and triumph, the imposing statues of our forefathers and
national heroes, the clever symbolism hidden in almost every architectural
detail.
My tour group could be anything from personal friends of the Senator to
a family from rural VA to an entire classroom of students from over the river in
nearby Arlington or Fairfax. We would begin on the steps of our office facing
the Capitol. Once a Senate Photographer had snapped their photograph, I’d begin.
I’d draw their attention up to the figure on top of the dome. At about 26
stories high, in flowing robes, gazing toward the east, stands “Freedom” a 19
foot tall bronze statue of a young woman. Under her feet, the pedestal reads “E
Pluribus Unum” - out of many, one. I’d tell them she faces east to ensure “that
the sun would never set on freedom” and at her back is the west, our country’s
hopeful future she guards with helmet and sword. Paying her respect seemed a
good place to start.
We’d make our way across Constitution Avenue to the
Capitol’s small east side entrance, me flashing my Senate badge and fighting
back stage fright, my group chatty and excited. Once inside the soaring Rotunda,
bickering siblings fell silent, boisterous schoolchildren became focused and
frazzled adults grew calm. Again, we all gazed upward, this time underneath the
dome. I began to tell the stories of how our young nation impossibly came to be.
I explained how those sworn to represent them made laws under this roof, with
all this history around us a reminder of where we’d come from and what we were
capable of. I believed in the greatness of the place and I wanted them to also.
I’d take them up to the balcony above the Senate floor and we’d sit quietly and
listen. We witnessed both monotonous droning and inspirational appeals, friendly
banter and heated arguments. Through the maze of chilly basement corridors,
especially if the group included children, I’d point out the small paw prints
embedded in the concrete floor and tell them the tale of the “demon cat” who
took joy in terrorizing night watchmen. When it came time to say goodbye, I’d
remind them to never take for granted what a remarkable thing it is to live in a
democracy like ours. I’d return to the papers and phones on my desk both
exhausted and exhilarated.
So it was with a sick stomach that thirty years later
on my local news channel, I’d watch a mob smash their way into the Capitol and
parade through the Rotunda. They broke windows, rummaged through desks and
knocked over lecturns. Many seemed to wander around without a plan as if
surprised they’d actually gotten in. It was oddly hilarious at moments. Grown
men in ridiculous outfits and body paint prancing and posing for selfies and
putting hats on statues. Then night began to fall. A noose was erected, rioters
shouted “where is Nancy” and “hang Mike Pence,” trapped staffers texted loved
ones, hammers and metal pipes were brandished, shots were fired and smoke filled
hallways. Bones were broken and blood was shed. Five people died.
On my couch in
Virginia, I couldn’t help but think of my own experience on the Hill and how far
away it seemed. Genuine friendships existed among members of the two parties,
news was news and not entertainment, and presidents behaved like adults. I’ve
heard more than once,“this isn’t who we are.” I believe it is indeed who some
people in our country very much are. I couldn’t help but think of a scene in
Dickens’ Christmas Carol I’d recently watched. The one where the imposing,
jovial Ghost of Christmas Present pulls back his heavy robes to reveal the
wretched creatures “Ignorance” and “Want” huddled beneath. Scrooge, repulsed and
terrified, asks whose children they are and the ghost growls “they are Mans.” He
warns the selfish Scrooge the gravity of neglecting them. On Tuesday at the
Capitol, the creatures beneath our pretty robes were exposed. Among them were
corruption, greed, racism and willful ignorance. The question facing all of us
remains - what are we willing to do about it?
