What do I tell my grandson? At nearly nine-months-old, it’s hardly urgent, but someday it will be important.
Now that I’m pushing 70, I still remember well the somewhat heated discussion I had with my ultraliberal, Adlai-Stevenson-button-wearing, mother back when President Richard Nixon and Watergate were the disgrace of the day. Much to my surprise, and chagrin, she was not in favor of impeachment. I, the college student ideologue, was.
My crowning argument was simple: “This is America, and no one is above the law!” My mother’s? “But he’s the president, and we haven’t done that since Andrew Johnson.”
Back in those more “innocent” days by comparison, with those peccadilloes paling in contrast, I still held, and hold, that this republic of ours is a nation of laws and that is the bedrock of our values. As the grandson of immigrants on all sides, I know my heritage from Europe included neither nobility nor riches. However, I was told that if I kept my nose clean, it would provide a fair opportunity.
I had an excellent career. My daughter is likewise thriving in hers. My grandson deserves nothing less.
Gary Hattal, Langley
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