Digressions from Morningwood: Truthing

I had to get up very early this morning -- 7:30 -- to appear at the Oklahoma Bar Association and testify for a friend who is seeking re-admission to the bar association. I hadn't been up that early since 1995. Luckily, I didn't oversleep, I fit into my suit, and I was on time. I hate being under oath because my mind processes information differently than the brains found in normal people. Plus, sometimes I just want to lie.

It went well, my testimony, and I like to think it may have helped a little. I hope so. In ten years, every living human will be an attorney, which means there will really be too many lawyers. I don't care, as I'm planning to take off with the Mayans in December. But we can always use more decent, honest, and moral attorneys, like the fellow for whom I spoke this morning.

Yet I am a great believer in Forgiveness and Redemption, and I was honored to be part of the proceeding.

***

At this point in the summer of 1979, I was working at Reagan for President in Los Angeles, the national headquarters, and where all the big shots of the campaign were located. I was lucky to have that summer job, as I met a lot of people who'd go on to be famous and powerful in the Reagan Administration. Lots of memories from that period of my life.

One, I almost destroyed the entire campaign one afternoon when I hauled John Sears, Mike Deaver, Martin Anderson, and Jim Lake to the airport. I wasn't paying much attention, I suppose (and that was before texting), and I came very close to getting us in a wreck. Embarrassing, but it could have been much worse.

***

Lyn Nofziger was in charge of finance, or raising money, a task most of us would rather not do. Lyn wasn't cut out for it, and he hated it, but he did it because he believed in the cause. There was in those days a big time car dealer in California named Cal Worthington. His commercials were famous because they were so cheesy and goofy, they were entertaining. They also played all the time. In most of the ads, Cal introduced us to his latest dog, who was always named Spot. "I'm Cal Worthington, and this is my dog, "Spot." However, Spot was always a tiger, an elephant, or any other animal BUT a dog.

In the 1980 campaign, people could give up to $1,000.00 to a presidential campaign. That was the limit. I was in Lyn's office one day when he opened an envelope from Cal Worthington. It contained a check for a thousand bucks. As was his custom, Lyn read and then answered the Worthington letter by scribbling his response right on the letter, which he mailed back to Cal.

Lyn's response, "The governor thanks you and I thank you, and do you think your dog Spot could send a thousand?"

***

And this, of which I am kind of proud. Follow me on the Twitter.