For an afternoon in late August in a state like Arkansas, this day was nice. A little breeze and some shade helped things. Could be worse. Could be raining. (Feldman, Marty.)
Late last week, we headed to the state Capitol to hear from Ben Carson, the presidential candidate but even more impressive neurosurgeon. If the Republicans really are going to nominate a non-politician for president--for the first time since 1952--then better if it's Ben Carson than another man who uses a definite article before his first name. At least Ben Carson doesn't call people losers and infuriate most of the party. Besides, he was most impressive in the debate. So why not give him a lunch hour?
Gospel warmed up the crowd. And why not? This is the South. As the singers swayed on stage, a few Christians in the crowd raised their hands toward the sky in worship. Was this a political rally or a revival? And why couldn't it be both?
Lord we lift you up/
Higher and higher
The first surprise of the afternoon was that Ben Carson showed up right on time. On the dot. Which is another sign the man is no politician.
The second surprise was that there wasn't a TelePromptTer in sight. Ben Carson took the microphone, and just . . . began talking.
Not orating. Not holding forth. Not lecturing. He didn't give a stump speech. He didn't appear to have prepared notes. And didn't seem to have Talking Points or 3x5 cards to keep him on message, as they say. He was soft-spoken. The only thing loud at this rally was the people's response to him: amens, clapping and laughing.
Ben Carson said he'd been to the Central High School museum, and what happened here in 1957 proved that this was a great country because we can overcome such history. "There's a whole lotta people trying to get in here, and nobody trying to escape."
He told the story of his mother sending him to the local library to check out books, and making him write book reviews to turn in to her. She couldn't read those book reports, but he didn't know that. It was part of Ben Carson's message of self-improvement. Self-reliance. The bootstraps stuff.
"There are those who want to fundamentally change our society," he said. "You just turn everything over to government and they'll take care of you . . . . That is not [what] America is."
He talked, softly, about restoring American power in the world. Of those who'd divide Americans for political purposes. Of over-regulation by the government. Of a declining military. He said America is the child of the world, and now needs to lead it. He also had a lot to say about the national debt.
"We don't have unlimited money to give anybody. Our national debt is $18.5 trillion. If you tried to pay it back at $10 million a day . . . it would take 5,000 years."
The crowd oohed and aahed, when they weren't shouting amens.
This was no Howard Dean on stage (thankfully), but a doctor with a bedside manner explaining to the patient what was wrong and how to fix things. And reassuring that patient, over and over again, that things could be fixed. That the situation wasn't good, but it wasn't fatal, either. Because he didn't follow a script, Ben Carson kept coming to a certain point: We can fix this.
And people nodded. And agreed. And said amen.
We walked away from the rally/revival/pleasant talk thinking that maybe the field of candidates isn't just a bunch of blowhards, shady types and career pols with more air in their lungs than practical solutions in their heads. That sometimes a candidate can be serious, likable, and smart. At the same time.
And the day was pleasant. Could have been worse. Could have been raining. Or it could have been a lunch hour spent listening to a candidate read a stump speech from a TelePrompTer.
Editorial on 08/31/2015