SCIENCE BEFORE POLITICS, BUT THEN SOME POLITICS

AUGUST 26, 2022 – (Cont.) Nurse John greeted me cheerfully at my 7:30 appointment yesterday. His mask concealed his face below his eyes, but the eyes and voice revealed unmistakable kindness and intelligence. His calm, friendly demeanor put me at immediate ease. Though definitely a “people person,” he also loved talking science—specifically, the science of my treatment. It helps very much to know how the chemo works, how the stem cells engraft, and why I’ll be feeling quite crappy in a few days—for a few days.

It reminds me of the annoyance I experienced when construction of tenant improvements in the office directly above mine involved periodic banging that shook the walls and interrupted my concentration. As a real estate lawyer, I thought immediately of the “quiet enjoyment” to which I was entitled under Article IX, Section 3.2, sub-paragraph (d) of my lease.  As a pragmatist, however, on excellent terms with the building owner (who was also a client), I was not about to “go legalistically ballistic” over the upsetting, periodic banging. But I did call the owner and mildly expressed my complaint. After acknowledging the reasonableness of my beef and assuring me that it wouldn’t last much longer, he took a most practical approach: “Go up to the office under construction to see what’s causing the commotion,” he said. “Once you now what’s causing it, you’ll notice it far less.” He was right.

Likewise with the transplant process. When my hemoglobin drops and my GI tract is in a state of revolt, mouth sores make hydration and nutrition difficult, and I’m feeling weak and queasy, I plan to focus on the scientific causes, as has been explained very well to me, most recently by John, and the scientific remedy—engraftment of stem cells, bolstered by daily injections of “growth factor,” and recovery. As bad as the symptoms might be, they are expected and to be addressed with available remedies dispensed by my care team. And by will power—things will improve.

A salient benefit of my situation is that it has led to rewarding contacts with people I would never have met otherwise, and it has rekindled old relationships, now on a far deeper level than before.

One example of the latter was my encounter with a lawyer “Dan” whose office was a few floors down from mine at the Minneapolis Flour Exchange. Over the years, we’d enjoyed many conversations in the lobby, out on the sidewalk in front our building.  Political awareness and analysis are among Dan’s many intellectual traits. With the onset of Covid, however, we both ditched our physical offices, and worked remotely, never crossing paths.

A few weeks ago, Dan and I crossed paths at the cancer center—he leaving, I arriving. We were quick in passing, just enough to say, “Hi—you too?! Call me.” He did and after describing his own medical predicament, brought me up to speed on the campaign of his daughter, Lauren (not to be confused with the “Laurens” of my 8/22 post) for the Minnesota State House. Dan was immensely proud of her accomplishments—a few of which are listed on her campaign website:

Director of Market Insights at Cargill; Deputy Chief Economist at KPMG [a position in which she lectured all of the country about the causes of inflation]; Macroeconomist at the Congressional Budget Office; Worked for the CIA; Holds a PhD in Applied Economics; member of the Board of Cargill Veterans Military Support Network.

Yesterday, after his appointment, which nearly overlapped with mine, Dan phoned me again. His daughter’s campaign has retained him to engage in “oppositional research” on Lauren’s challenger. As a former prosecutor, Dan relished the assignment. His due diligence on the guy, another attorney, produced unflattering information, some unknown to the public, some heralded by the candidate (an unabashed Trumper). Knowing my interest in politics, Dan sought my advice about how to “message” his findings. This surprised me. Why wouldn’t he rely on his own instincts? After all, Dan’s career included elective office, and he has far more practical political experience that I could claim. I told him so, but he insisted on asking me.

The question diverted my thoughts from the “flight path” I’m on—toward the Rockies—to something that’s largely escaped me attention lately: politics.

But I rose to the occasion. I hate negative campaign ads and question their effectiveness, irrespective of whatever line of truth they might convey. As I mulled things over a bit, I suggested this: Instead of accusing, indicting, demonizing, hurling invective at the opponent, focus instead on the simple but critical concepts of character and credentials, with emphasis on character.

“Suggest to Lauren,” I told Dan, “that she focus on the big picture, take the high ground, and by implication leave her opponent on lower, defensive ground; something along the lines of, “I’ve got the training and experience to understand economic issues in this state and help shape legislation to address them in a smart, practical, effective way. But however much expertise and experience a candidate might bring to office if elected, of far greater importance is character. For the past number of years, we’ve been living in a political environment filled with people whose lack of character has compromised the very integrity of our democratic system and institutions. Character. That’s what I think is most critical. And a big part of one’s character is the ability to seek out, identify and collaborate with other people of true character. That is and will continue to be my guiding principle, as I campaign for this office and most important, after I’m elected.”

Dan subscribed without hesitation, and after repetitive compliments, he said my recommendation would be exactly his to the campaign. I wished him and Lauren well.

After the conversation, I pondered it. I wondered if my perspective on politics hasn’t changed a bit. I think it has. I know it has, and my medical experience—and the quality of the people who’ve contributed to it—has something to do with that change. (Cont.)

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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson