The Life and Times of Government Greg

When my wife and I pulled up to the Kennedy Center an armed security guard with a German shepherd stopped our car. I hadn’t expected such tight security for a contemporary dance performance. It was like the moment you see flashing blue and red lights in your rearview mirror and worry there are drugs in your car, then remember you don’t do drugs. The dog sniffed around while another security guard used a mirror on a long pole to look underneath our car.

It was our first time at the Kennedy Center, so we assumed the checkpoint was excessive but normal. As a gift, we had received box seats for a performance by Alvin Ailey’s Dance Theater, the most significant predominantly African American dance troupe in the country.

Inside the theater, we encountered more security. We passed through metal detectors and Christina presented the contents of her purse for inspection. We walked to the next checkpoint at the entrance to the box seat area where we encountered another armed security guard that was definitely at a higher clearance level than, “Tickets please?”

The theater buzzed with energy as we finally made it to our seats.

As we surveyed the beautiful, ornate theater, we learned what the fuss was about. Three boxes over sat President Barack Obama and First Lady Michelle Obama, along with D.C. Mayor Adrian Fenty and his wife. These power couples greeted the audience with polite, humble waves. I hadn’t expected such high profile company, but a younger me knew I would be hanging out with the president. I even thought one day I might be president.

Only 8 seats away from the President.

I’ve always had an interest in American government and politics.

It started early with Flag Day ceremonies as a Cub Scout. Then listening to the stories of our Founding Fathers and going to view the Constitution as a Webelo Scout. As a Boy Scout I repeated the phrase, “On my honor, I will do my best, to do my duty, to God and my Country” a thousand times. In the small rural town I grew up in, not yet connected to every corner of the globe via the internet, we believed in protecting the history and morals of our country.

The culmination of my Scouting experience was attaining the rank of Eagle Scout. Amongst other requirements to become an Eagle Scout, you have to serve in a position of leadership and create a service project that will have lasting impact. I worked with the Broad Branch Nature Center to create a nature trail promoting the conservation of the Wetlands.

Leadership, service, conservation, I was living the American dream!

As an Eagle Scout I joined the club of past presidents, philanthropists and titans of business that had made America the best country in the world. I even received personally signed letters from my congressmen and senators commending me on my achievement. People in high places were taking notice of the young do-gooder named Greg Tindale.

On my honor, I will do my best, to do my duty, to God and my country…

When I planned my course schedule for my first semester at the University of Maryland, my academic advisor recommended a class called American Studies. A class all about how America is cool? Sign me up! He also recommended a class called the Physics of Music which he claimed would teach you things like how to hook up your stereo.

The physics class turned out to be the hardest class I ever took. It was all about calculating the size of sound waves, which is the most difficult calculation in physics. Fool me once academic advisor, shame on you. Then I attended my American Studies class. The general message was: there were lots of parts of America and its history that were uncool. Shame on me, academic advisor. Shame on me.

I learned a new narrative about the history of our country. We talked a lot about how different ethnicities and socioeconomic classes experience the American Dream in different ways. How our Founding Fathers were complicated individuals, not the superheroes our romanticized mythology made them out to be. How there are a lot of people in government who aren’t working in the service of the greater good of all citizens. It was an eye-opener for a simple, small town Eagle Scout.

It made me question lots of previous interactions I took as normal.

For example, my scout leader had been the happiest person I knew. He was always smiling. He always had a joke to put a smile on your face. But looking back, a lot of those jokes had punchlines dependent on racial stereotypes. I don’t remember any of the actual jokes but I do remember one punch line where a person was chasing after a wheel of cheese yelling, “That’s not yo cheese! That’s nacho cheese!” I don’t remember if that joke would be more offensive to African Americans or Latinos, but I’m pretty sure neither group would have liked it.

Now, I won’t go as far as saying my scout leader was racist. But to use a stand up comedy analogy, his act would have played a lot better at Zanies in Nashville than The Apollo in Harlem.

But this new outlook only convinced me further that good people needed to go into government. It strengthened my resolve that one day I could become a politician and run for office. Like our Founding Fathers I believed I was destined for greatness. (Specifically, the Founding Fathers that were not slave owners.) I declared Government and Politics my major and took every course I could on the subject. I studied the history of governments going back to Ancient Greece, the theory of politics from Machiavelli’s The Prince to Thomas Paine’s Common Sense, the function of modern governments on a national and local level. In each class, I listened and gave my perspective, always game to join a discussion. I only found out later that other people in my classes had recognized my exuberance and nicknamed me lovingly (I hope) Government Greg.

I didn’t just want to learn, I wanted to be active in government.

I took an internship on Capitol Hill with Congressman Steny Hoyer. The lifelong politician served as the Minority Whip in the House of Representatives. I also was selected to serve as the Student Liaison to the City Council in College Park reporting back to the Executive Board of the Student Government on city matters that affected the university.

It was a political dream come true. By day, I took the Metro to Capitol Hill where I answered constituent phone calls, summarized committee meetings, and attended lobbying events. By night, I attended College Park City Council Meetings. Government Greg was a man of the people!

At a desk in Congressman Hoyer’s office pretending to be a Founding Father.

My first week on the Hill even had two notable events.

The first was a group of WWE wrestlers that met with Congressmen to advocate for literacy. If you don’t understand what those two things have in common, you are not alone. But I did get my photo taken with Kurt Angle that day so… let’s put a headlock on illiteracy!

The second event was a pizza party thrown by the robotics industry lobby. If you don’t understand what those two things have in common, you are two for two at spotting weird pairings. But I did have a drone serve me a slice of pepperoni pizza so… The robotic future is now! Delivered in 30 minutes or less!

At City Council Meetings, I didn’t have a vote, but I did have a voice.

We discussed the Route 1 corridor revitalization plan, business district parking studies, proposed rent control ordinances. Really exciting stuff!

Each Councilmember had their own style. The lawyer who drilled down on details. The curmudgeon who made us watch as he opened constituent mail during his allotted three minutes at the end of a meeting. The numbers guy who—when debating an application for a new 7-Eleven—could quote how many 7-Elevens already exist within a quarter mile radius. The quiet one that was, well, quiet. The perverted one who kept asking why I wore undershirts under my polo shirts. Dude, my undergarments are none of your business. And the two ecologically-minded ones, with and without a ponytail.

Then there was the Mayor. In a time when a lot of residents were against the students having a voice in local issues, the Mayor always had an open door for us. And we had an open door for him including a regular poker game with Student Government members. You heard that right. Smoke filled back room poker games with the Mayor. Damn, I was living the political dream!

As I neared graduation, I wondered how government would play a role in my work life.

Would I get a job on Capitol Hill? Would I go to law school? I took the LSATs to keep my options open and scored in the 66th percentile. That was good enough to get into lots of law schools. Would I need a JD to eventually run for office? My destiny of greatness awaited, much like a young Charles Carroll, the signer of the Declaration of Independence, Maryland hero and namesake of the county I grew up in. Actually, scratch that, Carroll was a slave owner. Maybe more like Alexander Hamilton?

George Washington and Greg Tindale in the Rotunda of the Capitol.

Being active in government made me feel important. People came to me to help solve their problems. I didn’t recognize it in myself at the time, (although it was there) but I started to see that vanity of politics in others.

Example One: the auto pen.

A giant machine the size of a piano that holds a felt pen in a mechanical hand. When you step on the pedal it spins a disc and moves the mechanical hand to sign an exact replica of the Congressman’s signature. The interns would get a stack of letters to to auto-sign and send to constituents.

Congratulations on getting accepted to West Point. Auto-signed Steny Hoyer. Congratulations on your bat mitzvah. Auto-signed Steny Hoyer. Congratulations on the opening of your new laundromat. Auto-signed Steny Hoyer.

I remembered my Eagle Scout letter from my Congressman and felt a little cheated. In reality, it was a 22 year-old and a robot hand with a penchant for forgery that took notice of my achievement.

I also never saw the Congressman.

I was in his local office in the Longworth building. Since he was part of the Democratic leadership he had a second office in the Capitol where he spent all his time. The majority of my interactions were with 30 year-old Legislative Directors and their 25 year-old Legislative Assistants.

The dream of the legislative staff was to be integral in the drafting of important legislation, not for what it would mean to constituents or the country. Because drafting a high profile bill meant you could get hired by a big paycheck lobbying firm to profit on implementation of the law or knowing how to get around the law. That didn’t sit right with me.

Things were weird at the SGA and City Council as well.

I was surrounded by good people that loved politics. But some of them really loved politics. I mean like, they were in love with politics. It was more than a means to enrich the lives of your community. It was a game to be won. It was about embarrassing and destroying your opponent. The intensity didn’t match my personality.

At the end of my term I facilitated the transfer of my liaison position to a new student. I had a few loose ends with community members I hadn’t tied up. There were exams and projects to finish to make sure I graduated, so correspondences went unanswered.

One day, I ran into a loose end I never got back to. I greeted him with a smile, ready to apologize for my dereliction of communication. But before I could say a word, he laid into me. “You’re entering the real world and if you think you can just not respond to people you’re in for a rude awakening! You think you’re a politician? Well a politician gets back to his…” As I got yelled at I had two thoughts.

1: I guess I’ll never talk to this guy again.

2: Politicians get yelled at all the time. That must suck. How did you do it Alexander Hamilton?

I felt the flip side of that importance and vanity. As a man of the people, you work for the people and they will hold you accountable however they want.

My last day on Capitol Hill, the Congressman had a going away meeting for all the departing interns. They handed us small gift-wrapped boxes. Before we had a chance to unwrap them the Congressman blurted, “They’re space pens.” We unwrapped the boxes and sure enough we found space pens with a Congressional seal on them. The Congressman said, “Congress approved and funded NASA, and the great innovation led to products we use everyday.”

I had a bunch of issues with how this meeting went down.

First of all, why wrap the gifts if you are going to tell me what’s inside before I open it? And I know the Congressman didn’t wrap them. Some poor intern probably had to wrap his own gift then didn’t even have a chance to pretend he was surprised.

Second of all, Congressman, you’re taking credit for NASA? Get out of here with that nonsense. And the part of NASA you are taking credit for is the part that created technology for pens to write in zero gravity? That is by far the lowest thing on NASA’s list of cool technology. It is also completely irrelevant here on Earth where we have an abundance of gravity.

The whole exchange felt hollow. More ego inflation for the sake of ego inflation.

Many of my Student Government colleagues in those smokey, Mayor filled card games continued on in politics. They work in think tanks, in important municipal positions and as civil rights lawyers. They’ve ran for County Council and lost. They’ve ran for Register of Wills and won. Heck, the person who held the City Council liaison position before me is now a Congressman himself.

I decided not to apply for a job on Capitol Hill. I decided not to go to law school. I still loved government and politics, but I wasn’t in love with government and politics. In the years after college I still thought about running for office. I joined local committees. I met my neighbors. I even took business card photos that could double as patriotic campaign photos.

Wouldn’t you vote for this guy?

Oh the vanity, of a young man out to make his mark on the world.

There were elements of government and politics that I loved: being part of a community, public speaking, collaborating with like-minded others, creating something that makes people’s lives better. They all started manifesting in a new passion: improvisational comedic theater. I had blossomed into an artist. My vanity and need for importance found a new vehicle.

Back at the Kennedy Center in February 2009, President Obama had been in office for less than a month and was riding his historical wave of Hope. It was the first African American president at a predominantly African American arts event in a predominantly African American city.

The politics love was overflowing. I’ve seen a lot of theater but I’ve never seen an entire audience stand with their backs to the stage clapping and looking at an audience member. Once the house lights went down, the audience turned back around, sat down and became enthralled by the performance. As soon as the show ended and the house lights came up, the entire audience rose to their feet, turned to the president and started clapping again.

Christina and I felt like flies on the wall for a very special moment in history. I was excited to see the candidate I voted for take office. And my love for politics was excited to see the policies he would bring to office to make people‘s lives better. But my destiny had shifted. I no longer wanted to be in the audience receiving applause. I wanted to be up on stage.