young women on the trail

Youth can intoxicate us.

The truth of the adage popped up while I was tossing photographs from my 1988 campaign.

This one is a favorite.  My district included a large number of mobile home parks.  (I learned early that letting the words "trailer park" trip off the tongue would result in a monetary -- and social -- fine amongst park residents.)

Rental fees in the parks had been rising for years.  Partly due to increased property tax assessments.  And it was causing budget problems for most of the residents.

My opponent had made populist hay out of promises that government would repeal the law of economics on behalf of the residents.  As a result, he had cornered one of my natural constituencies -- seniors.

After all, I had clients and friends who owned mobile home parks.  And I had plenty of family members and friends who were residents.

The photograph features a meeting I had with my aunt and uncle -- and some of their neighbors -- at their home.  Together, we knew we could come up with a solution that preserved everyone's economic liberties.

In the photograph, everyone reflects confidence that everything will turn out right in the end.  That is, except me.  I look a bit baffled.  Far too earnest.  Almost overwhelmed.

Compare it to this photograph.  I am talking with two gorgeous twins at a fundrasier.  They are the daughters of an attorney neighbor.  Both of them worked diligently on my campaign.

I cannot tell you what we were discussing.  But I certainly seemed a bit more engaged.  And I know myself well enough to note that I am that shallow.  A moment of beauty will always make me beam.

Of course, that may not be a fault.  Mexico has taught me that enjoying the moment is one of life's most rewarding philosophies.

Rather than judging my joy in the second photograph, I wish I could have shown the same life in the first.