Are you smart enough to be POTUS?

Governing the most influential country on the planet – fortunately – has more to do with a skill set than with issues (even those about which we care most deeply). Politics has more to do – more or less fortunately – with familiarity and talking a good game than with a skill set, which may be why we have such difficulty remembering the former point and favoring the latter as we gear up for elections in America; so many of our presidents are groomed in Congress that we feel as if we should hear the same political speeches from presidential hopefuls as from congressional ones. Not so. Constitutionally and historically, domestic matters are the purview of Congress, and the president provides the executive check and balance for the House and Senate while acting as the nation's leading foreign diplomat. In short, Congress runs the country while the president engages – peacefully or not – with others.

That doesn't mean I care nothing for a presidential candidate's stand on issues. I do care, but unless the candidate steps from the silver screen à la Ronald Reagan or swaps academic regalia and army fatigues for a chalk stripe and tie like Ike, his – or her – stance on core issues is most probably well known from gubernatorial, congressional, and/or senatorial races. Do I not expect change in those positions? Some and in some candidates more than others. I appreciate having some awareness and predictive ability to know which laws written by Congress may well garner a Presidential veto, and all presidents have their agenda they push within their parties to greater or lesser success domestically. But Congress controls this country's budget and its current homeland concerns, while her president guides her relationships with other nations. So it was intended by the framers of the Constitution, and I am not so lazy as to believe I can't determine on my own that Santorum is anti-abortion (all abortion) and Obama still prefers diplomacy to war.

All of which brings me to my central point. The race for the United States presidency begins with a primary season for the outside party (and sometimes both parties), and this primary seems to me to have become solely about issues. Again, candidates' positions on issues are, in my estimation, not difficult to determine. For instance, in the 2012 crop of Republican candidates, we have three governors including one sitting and two former, two congressmen including a current representative and a former Speaker of the House, and one former senator. I doubt one would have any trouble finding campaign speeches or, better evidence, voting records to support the candidates' positions. Further, President Obama has made his positions relatively clear, and the cycle of American politics in the past two years gives ample illustration of the reason why an American presidential candidate's positioning on issues should be of secondary concern to his or her skill set on the campaign trail.

What do I mean by "skill set" as I ramble on about issues and the overuse of candidates' positions on them during campaigning? Simple. If I have the opportunity to speak to you – you, the presidential candidate – could you convince me that you can do the job of being president of the United States all without ever once speaking your mind on abortion, climate change, Syria, Iran, China, the Pacific Rim, or the Keystone Pipeline? Can you forget about unemployment, the payroll tax cut, flat taxes, and entitlements for a one-hour job interview? Because that's what the campaign trail is (or should be). What do you, presidential candidate, carry around in your toolbox that can convince me you are United States President material?

That's what I mean.

In the real world, my world, I am part of the 99%. I work hard 60 hours each week –often more – in a job where I supervise a modest staff of ten. Many of those ten I led the charge in hiring: forming the hiring committee, determining the key competencies required to perform the essential job functions, writing the interview questions for the committees to ask of the candidates. By the interview stage, we knew all the candidates had the right backgrounds (e.g., education, work experience, references). What we needed to determine was whether or not those backgrounds translated into the right skill sets for the job.

The presidency really isn't all that different. Most candidates – though these days, almost anything goes; look at Herman Cain – have law degrees and a stint as governor or congressman or senator. Most have ringing endorsements. (Cue the educations, work experience, and references above.) Without these, a candidate lacks the basic requisite knowledge to do the job. Having these guarantees little. What I want to know, ladies and gentlemen, is this: Are you smart enough to be POTUS? Because I'm here to tell you that, so far this season, I've seen very little to impress me.

Our past presidents boast four Nobel laureates (T. Roosevelt, Wilson, Carter, and Obama), a Rhodes scholar (Clinton), five college or university presidents (Jefferson, UVA; Madison, UVA; Garfield, Hiram College; Wilson, Princeton; Eisenhower, Columbia), three college chancellors (Washington, William and Mary, Washington College, and Washington and Lee University; Fillmore, University of Buffalo; Tyler, William and Mary), and a host of academics both pre- and post-presidency.

For the approximately one-half of past presidents for whom IQ estimates are known, the mean IQ is 128, including George Washington's 118, Richard Nixon's 148, and FDR's 147. Highly correlated with IQ – intellectual curiosity or openness to experience estimates from the NEO-PI-R are also much higher for these presidents; FDR's 45 and Jefferson's 99 are examples.

Educational attainment is a very good predictor of intelligence, and given my assumption that you, dear candidate, will not release your formal IQ results nor submit for an administration of the NEO-PI-R, I'll take the reports of how far candidates have gone in school. In the current crop of GOP candidates, for instance, former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich earned Master's and doctoral degrees in history from Tulane University (as opposed to the honorary doctorate à la Huntsman with his earned Bachelor's degree in political science). The only other two candidates of note, Romney and Santorum, appear neck-in-neck (big surprise) with their Bachelor's in English (R) and Political Science (S) and identical MBAs and law degrees. Ron Paul does have a respectable M.D., it should be noted.

Why do I care? Because in a world where Congress will dictate what bills come to a vote, what laws become federal code, and what presidential agenda see the light of day, I care far less whether a Republican candidate eschews all abortion or only late-term abortions than I care whether he or she is intelligent enough to interact cleverly and with integrity with foreign heads of state. Santorum may be staunchly pro-life, but my supposition is that he's almost smart enough to know he can't overturn Roe v. Wade. I know Gingrich is smart enough.

So, are you? Smart enough to be POTUS? Can you charm like Clinton, arm like Roosevelt, and advance the world like Jefferson? If you don't have that vision, if you can't think that far beyond today's horizon, go home. I have no use for you regardless of whether or not your position on the issues aligns with mine. If you're still game, below are ten questions to assess your suitability to be my president.

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Job Interview Questions: President of the United States of America

1. Please tell us about your educational background and professional experiences specifically as they relate to the position of President of the United States of America.
   
2. The office of the President of the United States more often than not finds itself multi-tasking. Describe how you are effectively able to handle multiple tasks and projects, and give an example of when you were successful in completing a project on time and on budget in a multi-tasked environment.
   
3. The office of the President, like most elected positions, requires adherence to specific, legislatively mandated work processes. Tell us about one of the most important improvements to a work process that you carried out successfully under similar circumstances as [Governor /U.S. Representative/Senator].
   
4. Please describe an example of a wide-reaching initiative you led from inception to enactment into law. What were the results of the evaluation of the initiative, and how did you use those results?
   
5. Tell us about a time when you were unable to successfully advance an agenda. How did you communicate your lack of success to your constituents and to the leadership within your party? Did you make any changes to your position as a result?
   
6. Many times, the office of the President of the United States of American finds itself in a situation in which the advancement of people in other nations - sometimes their very survival –is pitted the current political goals of the United States. What specific skills do you bring to the office to enable you to make the best decision in these situations? If you have faced such a situation as [Governor/U.S. Representative/Senator], please provide a brief description of the situation, your role in its resolution, and what you learned from the experience.
   
7. The position of President of the United States is responsible for policy initiatives and administrative appointments whose implementation depends on others at the White House and on members of Congress doing their jobs on time. Describe how you, as the President of the United States, would handle a situation when your deadline is approaching and your administration and/or Congress has failed to act in their roles to expedite your work.
   
8. The main functions of the office of the President of the United States are heavily dependent on the analysis and evaluation of a cadre of experts - the Presidential Cabinet . What experience do you have constructing such a cabinet, and what evidence can you provide that suggests you are able to critically consider and respect the advice of your experts?
   
9. The President of the United States operates, as does all her citizens, under the requirements of federal law. It is imperative that the person assuming this position be cognizant of these laws, particularly those most frequently cited as divisive among the citizenry or most likely to be in need of revision during a particular age. (For instance, a recent presidential candidate who has withdrawn his candidacy, broadcast a campaign ad decrying school children's inability to pray in public schools, when the actual letter of the law indicates all children may pray but none can be compelled to pray.) What in your background specifically prepares you to deal with the legislative challenges all presidents face, and provide evidence that you are aware of the current state of the nation's most inflammatory codes.
   
10. The position of President of the United States requires collaboration with the heads of state of almost all other governments on the planet. These may be diplomatic handshakes handled by proxy via the Secretary of State, or they may be allied decisions to make war on yet another nation. What professional experiences as [Governor/U.S. Representative/Senator] do you have to enable you to undertake these collaborations? Provide an example from prior experiences to illustrate your ability to forge alliances beyond the boundaries of your own state.

There is a scoring rubric. I use a 1-10 scale, and I never tally a final score until all interviews have been complete. If you'd like to see how you'd do, please feel free to email your interview answers to stephaniewright01@gmail.com. Let's give it a couple weeks. I'll post anonymous results at that time. Perhaps, between a reexamination of the poor quality of dialog to this point and an honest attempt to answer the questions immediately above, we can begin to arrive at an answer to my overarching question: Are you smart enough to be President of the United States of America?

Senryū

no faery grand-mum
just one step and one step and -
receipt for a life

The Long-term View

Across from Declan, his wife laid down her portion of the morning newspapers. With a deep sigh, she raised her head, which he noticed from the corner of his eye though he chose not to look at her directly. After a protracted moment, she huffed and cracked the section of paper on her lap as she folded it back into place. Avoidance was not in the cards.

"Something wrong, love?"

"They're at it again," she nearly spat.

Cocking his head, he listened but heard nothing from the gaggle of teenagers asleep on the floor above them. Confounded, he turned to her. "Who's at it?"

"The bloody Americans. Who else?"

Who else, indeed. "At what? You seem to have me at a disadvantage. I've only made it through the football headlines."

She tapped the news section and ignored her cooling tea. He'd made it special for her, too. "Another one of their governors has signed a law disallowing school children's books to contain mention of evolution."

"Ah."

Her brows shot upward as she caught scent of him nearing her trap. "You do see then?"

"Of course, dear." There really was nothing else to say when one's wife was an eminent scientist.

"Fecking republicans." She reached for her tea and gulped, evidently content with its ambient temperature. "Were they half so clever as they think they are, they'd embrace evolutionary fact, for it is –"

"No theory, yes, I know."

"Don't mock me, Declan O'Leary. The sofa just there has plenty of sleeping life left in it."

Laying aside his own paper in defeat, Declan chuckled. "When do I ever mock you, Colina? I learnt long ago that I can't be certain just when you're carrying one of your bitty knives and when you're not."

"A lesson well remembered," she retorted, but she blew him a quick kiss.

"Now then, you were saying something about right wingers embracing evolution? I don't suppose you believe the world's coming to a premature end?"

"But that's just it. It is. At least for us, for humans that is. What do republicans despise as much as evolution? Republican politicians, I mean."

Declan thought for a moment. "Abortion?"

"Aye, well, of course that, but they've got no foothold there. What else?"

"Environmental concerns?"

"Exactly. Only by accepting evolution can they also embrace the idea that humans, as a species, are doomed. Ten thousand years at best, more like three to five."

Declan nodded and winked at her. "I see where you're going with this. We watched that BBC special a few months ago about what the planet'll do after humans finally go extinct. What'd that scientist predict, about a hundred years for complete planetary recovery?"

"About that."

"So, if the right wing gets on the evolution train, they can have a legitimate pulpit – no pun intended – from which to argue against environmental regulations."

"In a roundabout way, aye."

"Doesn't account for asthmatic children or the rising cost of fossil fuels."

His beautiful wife laughed. "No plan's perfect."

Due Credit

As Ron said, it's nice to be recognized publicly. For as long as I can remember (quite literally), I wanted to "be a writer," whatever that means. As I finish growing up, I struggle to redefine just what that means for me. Publish or perish doesn't exist only within the ivory tower, and I've found myself regressing toward the need to write versus the need to be read. For now, I am content. Perhaps.

I'm not even sure if there are any who remember that what drew me first to LiveJournal was the need for a forum in which to be read. My first LJ wasn't even mine, per se, but one for a secondary character (Declan O'Leary). That was five years ago now. As I've continued to write, I've gotten better (as Zelda would say, "Well, duh."), but I've also grown more selective in what I can tolerate reading. I purchase almost zero fiction anymore, preferring to read those writers online who I know to be first rate and whose characters engage me. (My non-fiction is still purchased, but that's a different sort of thing altogether.) Thus, when Ron chose to honor me on a list of five writers to read online, I was both honored and delighted to be able to select five of my own to pass on to you. Because I will post this both here and on my blog, I don't worry so much about the redundancy of LJ and the fact that many of my LJ readers will also read those I recommend.

Here are the rules/suggestions for this nomination. Do with them what you will.

Leibster is a German word meaning "dearest," and the award is given to up-and-coming bloggers with less than 200 followers. (I don't really care if a nominee has more than 200 followers to be frank.)

If you receive the award, you should:

1. Thank the giver and link back to the blogger who gave it to you. Again, thank you, , also found at The Road to Donnick Cottage
2. Reveal your top five picks and let them know by leaving a comment on their blog.
3. Copy and paste the award on your blog.
4. Hope that the people you’ve sent the award to forward it to their five favourite bloggers and keep it going!

Ron Runeborg

Ron Runeborg deserved the nomination that got this ball rolling, and he deserves mine. He is one of those rare writers whose natural talent is the envy of many. Whether Suessical or serious, his verse sings always and is delivered damned near without effort. When he turns his pen to fiction, he peoples his worlds with characters and situations that transport the reader and, often, transform the reader. To add insult to injury (or the cherry on top), Ron's recorded readings of his own and others' works delight us all. My only complaint about this nominee is that he withholds his talent as often as he shares it.

Rachel Green

Rachel Green, the Renaissance artist of our time, is truly one of my favourite writers. I have been enriched beyond measure since I began reading the tales of Harold & Jasfoup four years+ ago. Her wit is razor sharp, her characters fully fleshed (even those whose flesh is slightly decayed), and her plots as tight as a Christie or Doyle. Writing primarily in the urban fantasy genre, Rachel also does a bit more than dabble in the BSDM and gay/lesbian arenas, often overlapping the two. She is brilliant, funny, humble, and a complete delight, as are all of her works. As if that were not enough, she also boasts a compendium of accomplished poetry, penning seven each day and sometimes more.

Nathalie Bouchard-Beudin

Nathalie is a little Lovecraft, a bit Atwood, and completely herself. A Frenchwoman who lives in Italy and writes in English, she pens poetry, flash via Twitter, and feature-length horror that will have the reader suspending disbelief before we realize it's even required. Despite the fantastic elements of her stories, Nathalie reminds us always that the dark we have to fear generally lies within ourselves.

Chan Pheng Lew

Chan writes, as far as I am aware, within the confines of Live Journal. If you are an LJer, you may know Chan's work already. These stories, typically set in Laos, are sweeping, beautifully set tales of human frailty and strength. I am always struck by the breathtaking prose she crafts within the economy of words she chooses. Chan's gift is the offering of stories to those of us fortunate enough to read. If you haven't discovered her yet, please do so now.

Teresa Frohock

Fellow North Carolinian and fantasy writer Teresa Frohock is destined to become of favourite of readers around the web and elsewhere. Her recently published Miserere: An Autumn Tale recently received a starred review in Library Journal (and I can say I tweeted with her when...). In all seriousness, Teresa is a serious writer with a serious ability to craft a complete world with characters that will stop you in your tracks and pull you into their lives. She also has a gifted ability to talk the craft as well as work it. Read her work and her thoughts on it. You'll be delighted that you did.

Triquain: Unglazed

Violet

blooms on pliant porcelain

a violent, before-the-fire rage 

leaving rumour to run like the wine spilled in haste

staining the linens and her fingers

a blood red metaphor -

tempering.

Senryu

daily suit and heels
administrative ma'am now -
jeaned Dr. Wright? gone

Senryū

woman from a distance
winds - fertile slopes, liquid core

hard beneath the hands

Inspired by this National Geographic photo.

Saturday at the Grocery

A pristine sky with no wide strokes of white to break
the boundless spill of azure cloaks my drive
a man with a dog ties the lead to a bike rack
reminding me of Rachel and I think
I should have walked the two miles
with only two light sacks for the return trip
supplies for a science experiment, crystals to grow
in salt water - kosher, table, and coarse sea
plus bell pepper and two heads of garlic for the dinner pot
two miles, two sacks, two heads, too easy to slide
behind the wheel
but no means of enjoying the scarlet dress of maples
and golden oaks readying themselves for the dance
or twittering senryu to those who would read
sitting instead in the parking lot to text myself
free form verse of missed opportunity
and a half pound of coffee bought on sale.

Senryū

The Ugly Boob

At just about six last Friday, I got home, and I followed my normal routine: put keys in little pottery bowl by the door, drop lunchbox in kitchen, say hello to Daughter No. 1 and partner, kick off shoes and pick them up, start walking to the bedroom to change clothes. Each day, minor aspects of this routine vary. Perhaps my partner, already engaged in preparations for dinner, kisses me in the kitchen as I leave the lunchbox on the table handmade by his grandfather. Perhaps my eldest daughter is at work, and our greetings and partings took place via text half an hour or more before. Minor aspects. I return home; I greet whomever might be there; I slip away to change.

Last Friday, my partner followed me to the bedroom to continue a conversation already underway. I began to strip away my layers. Red cardigan removed and carefully hanged in the closet. Black and red summer chiffon top removed and tossed on top of the laundry. Down to a black tank top and my bra, I intended a quasi-Jennifer-Beal maneuver in which I would remove my bra while the tank remained in place, allowing me to keep the comfort and lightweight cotton on top and slip on a pair of pajama bottoms for the evening’s wear.  My partner sat on the bed facing me as we talked and I carried on these machinations. Bra unhooked at the back, I reached upward, pulled on a strap, and tugged. When the strap fell down my arm, I felt more cool air along the left side of my body than I should have, looked down, and frowned. The strap to my black Old Navy tank hung limp to my elbow rather than the strap to my bra. I took corrective measures, grinning at my partner.

“Oops. I almost flashed you the ugly boob.”

My left breast currently sports a backwards C-shaped incision just outside my nipple, a nipple that, until a couple days ago, had begun to point decidedly off-center. The incision marks the entry point for the surgeon who removed a small mass a week ago Friday in the climax of a month-long battle with anxiety and fear and quite a bit of disbelief. On the backside of this ordeal for now, I carry less anxiety (though no less fear) and a new sort of guilt.

When I learned at the end of May after my first-ever mammogram that something wasn’t quite right on the scans, I quashed my nervousness, irritated more than anything else. I truly do not have enough hours in the day for repeat mammograms. Further, I was the good girl, getting it done on time, having all my little OB-Gyn boxes ticked off annually as I’m supposed to. Hardly fair then to have the first scan in my life turn up an abnormality.

Then the second scan confirmed the first, and the fire of anxiety flickered and caught. I began to look at the harsh realities of my life a little more closely. Forty years old and (legally at any rate) the single mother of two minor daughters and one in college, I am not wealthy. I do not have a Gatesian fortune to leave my children should I die a premature death after paying extensive medical bills. My life insurance, which felt so expansive only a few months ago, now felt woefully inadequate, and who gives more life insurance to a woman with breast cancer? Then there were the more immediate aspects of life to think about. I began to envision myself without the mane of hair that is, in some ways, a trademark of my appearance. When I learned I would most likely not need chemotherapy, I mentally put my hair back in place and started to think about my breasts.

I love my breasts. I do. My almost-A, are-you-sure-you-don’t-want-to-have-those-things-enhanced?, these-beautiful-things-have-nursed-three-daughters breasts are part of my mental makeup. I never felt them inadequate to any task despite their size, and suddenly I’m staring down the knowledge that one may be imperfect in a way necessitating radical, noticeable change. I convinced myself I would lose my breast in preparation for losing my breast just as I had with my hair.

In June, I endured the utter indignity of a stereotactic core biopsy under local anesthesia. The doctor and the nurse performing the procedure attended me with the highest degree of professionalism and skill, but sometimes life is what it is and we just have to move on without much more said. The results from the biopsy were good. I didn’t seem to have breast cancer but was referred for an excisional biopsy nonetheless because the cells extracted during the core biopsy indicated some degree of abnormality. The doctor at The Breast Center had taken the liberty of making my appointment with the surgeon; I could change that if necessary.

I kept the appointment. I had the recommended surgery a month later. I confess to not quite understanding why. It’s all a numbers game; that much I do know. That much I can understand, too. I do numbers all day long everyday for a living. Every female walking around in America has about a 12% chance of developing breast cancer at some point in her life. Because I developed a non-invasive form, my risk sky-rocketed. Because it was caught early, my risk could be decreased again (but never back to that 12%) but only if I had the surgery. Okay. I can see the reason behind that.

Ironic really, this whole sequence of events. I know people – personally and virtually – affected by breast cancer. (Who doesn’t, right?) It is my very good fortune that all have survived. Here stands the pinpoint of my guilt, and whether or not I can dance fast enough not to fall will be interesting to watch. The guilt lies two-fold. First, people worried about me. Some worried, because they’d been personally touched by breast cancer and didn’t want me to walk that path behind them. Others worried not because they had experience with breast cancer but only because they cared about me. I do not like for others’ time to be filled with worry for me. Second, despite my love and concern for others touched by breast cancer and despite my awe and admiration for the efficacy of the Susan G. Komen Foundation, I’m not a pink ribbon girl; I’m a purple ribbon girl. Throughout this mini-trial, I’ve had to acknowledge the irony that my abnormality was probably caught and my surgery probably recommended due to the research driven by SGK, while I’ve spent several years railing that the effects of domestic violence touch far more people than those of breast cancer and the purple ribbon campaign should be as widely known as the pink. So, I have guilt. (I do guilt very well and acknowledge its place in my life.)

Third, I need to acknowledge the tertiary guilt of not having breast cancer.

Please, allow me to explain. This past Thursday, I received the pathologist’s results. Clean margins and nothing unexpected in the abnormal tissue. I am cancer-free. For now. Hopefully, forever.

However, my journey began as every breast cancer survivor’s and victim’s begins. A mammogram or self-exam leads to further scans which lead to… Only my journey ended for now. I’ll have another mammogram when I’m supposed to. That’s all. I didn’t need additional surgery. I didn’t need chemotherapy or radiation. I didn’t face months of illness. I didn’t face death. There is no reason why I should have had a better outcome than other women. Thus, the guilt.

For those who worried, for not being a pink ribbon girl, for not having breast cancer today, I apologize. Now, I release myself from the guilt.

“Oops. I almost flashed you the ugly boob.”

“You don’t have an ugly boob. You have two beautiful breasts, Stephanie.”

The one with the stitches, you see, that tells him I’m cancer-free. For me, it’s my reminder if the guilt ever strays too far. The scar reminds me this was my close call and I should do a better job with my daily life: love a little more freely, enjoy my children at every opportunity, buy more life insurance, support more than one ribbon.  

I love my breasts. Even the ugly one.