Left of Center - Connections

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" height=25 BGCOLOR="#FFFF33" TEXT="#080000"> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=430 BGCOLOR="#330066" TEXT="#F7F7FF"> <div> Connections<FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#FFFFFF" FACE="Arial" > </FONT></div> <div> By Lynn Jepsen</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <div> To: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> From: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> Subject: Call me. </div> <div> Jan 23, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Donna,</div> <bR> <div> I wish you would have let me help you move, but I expect you to call as </div> <div> soon as you've settled in, frightened the new roommates, and unpacked the </div> <div> pile of white house pictures that will have them all drooling in </div> <div> jealousy. Call. Call collect. Do it now.</div> <bR> <div> J.</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> From: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> Subject: duh </div> <div> Jan 23, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Okay, Joshua. How am I supposed to call when the only Connecticut phone </div> <div> number I have is your mother's?</div> <bR> <div> *sigh*</div> <bR> <div> My roommates are great. Nea is a model - if you're still reading Cosmo, </div> <div> then I'm sure you've seen her. Holly is a journalism student. Don't worry </div> <div> though, she's studying public relations, not reporting, so all your </div> <div> precious secrets are safe. </div> <bR> <div> I do have to ask though, how are you making a living? State party </div> <div> chairmen don't get paid. Tell me you've thought this through.</div> <bR> <div> Donna.</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> From: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> Subject: Ye of little faith </div> <div> Jan 24, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Donna - have some faith. My dad left me some money. With any luck I won't </div> <div> be state chairman too long. Hope to run for office next year. Gotta go. </div> <div> Interviewing assistants. *groan*</div> <div> 598-889-2335 - no excuses not to call next time.</div> <div> J.</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> From: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> Subject: RE: Ye of little faith </div> <div> Jan 28, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Josh,</div> <bR> <div> First, at the risk of swelling your ego, I saw you on CSPAN yesterday. </div> <div> Who were you chasing down on the hill anyway? DC a long way from </div> <div> Connecticut. Anyway, Nea saw you on TV, and she thinks your sorta cute </div> <div> (her words, not mine). I could set you two up. I think you'd hit it off </div> <div> pretty well.</div> <bR> <div> Secondly, I feel like I'm back in kindergarten, and no jokes about </div> <div> raising my hand in the Oval. I'm serious here. Five years of listening to </div> <div> you makes my professors sound (oh, this'll swell your ego) both dull and </div> <div> dumb, at least my polisci profs. The most interesting class right now is </div> <div> constitutional law. Sam already offered to tutor me if I need it, and </div> <div> don't whine. We both know you're not a real lawyer.</div> <bR> <div> I'm late for work now though, so I've got to run. </div> <bR> <div> TTYL </div> <div> Donna</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> From: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> Subject: Explain? </div> <div> Feb 2, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Okay, what's this about a job? Shouldn't you be focusing on your </div> <div> schooling? What are you doing anyway? Fill me in here. By the way, what's </div> <div> TTYL?</div> <bR> <div> Oh, I was chasing down Leo. He's taken to single-handedly terrorizing </div> <div> everyone that stabbed us in the back last year. It's better than a prize </div> <div> fight. Plus, I think he's gearing up for next year. The state party is </div> <div> thinking about backing me for Rohler's seat. Whadda ya think? Senator </div> <div> Lyman sound good to you?</div> <bR> <div> J.</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> From: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> Subject: RE: Explain? </div> <div> Feb 3, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Josh,</div> <bR> <div> I'm temping in the admissions office. It's not as exciting as working for </div> <div> you, but it pays just as badly. I am focusing on school though. I have to </div> <div> do something to pay the bills though. </div> <bR> <div> Senator Lyman? I don't know. I suppose it'll grow on me <g></div> <div> Take care of yourself, and tell your mother hi for me.</div> <bR> <div> TTYL (Talk To You Later) </div> <div> Donna</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> From: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> Subject: ARE YOU NUTS!!!!!! </div> <div> Feb 6, 2003</div> <bR> <div> ARE YOU INSANE???? </div> <bR> <div> I know it was you, Joshua. I can't think of a single person other than </div> <div> you who would anonymously pay my tuition, and before you try to blame </div> <div> someone else, I already blackmailed Sam. </div> <bR> <div> YOU'RE INSANE!!!!</div> <bR> <div> Do you hear me Josh Lyman? You're nuts! I'm going to repay you. I swear I </div> <div> am. That is, if you're not committed first.</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> From: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> Subject: Men in white coats </div> <div> Feb 7, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Donnatella,</div> <bR> <div> The men in white coats haven't come to take me away, so I guess I'm not </div> <div> completely insane. Don't get upset. I just wanted to do something nice </div> <div> for you. After five years, surely I can pay for a semester of school. </div> <div> Right?</div> <bR> <div> Now, I've got to tell you, my assistant is inept. This week's, not last </div> <div> week's. Last week's was just ditzy. I don't suppose you have a clone </div> <div> somewhere to organize my files and keep my schedule? No? Thought I'd ask </div> <div> anyway.</div> <bR> <div> I'm off to terrorize some republicans, so go back to studying.</div> <bR> <div> Yours, </div> <div> J.</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> From: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> Subject: Last weekend </div> <div> Feb 17, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Josh,</div> <bR> <div> Sam tells me that you went to Manchester with the Bartlets and Leo last </div> <div> weekend. Was that a war council, or did you want to avoid women over </div> <div> Valentine's?</div> <bR> <div> If you hadn't heard, and I'm sure you have, CJ and Sam are officially in </div> <div> business. Cregg and Seaborn Consulting just signed its first client. Are </div> <div> you hiring them for your senate race? Anyway, I have a ConLaw exam to </div> <div> study for, and I'm meeting Sam to go over my notes, so take care.</div> <bR> <div> Donna</div> <bR> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> From: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> Subject: Hello? </div> <div> Feb 29, 2003</div> <bR> <div> Josh,</div> <bR> <div> I hadn't heard from you in a couple weeks, so I thought I'd drop you a </div> <div> line and see how it was going. I've got midterms in two weeks, and then </div> <div> we'll see how I'm doing. With Sam and CJ drilling me, I'm not really </div> <div> worried, but it's been so long since I've been in school... Anyway, call </div> <div> me. Collect. I just want to hear your voice.</div> <bR> <div> Donna</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> To: lyman@dem.ct.org </div> <div> From: donnatella@ucberkley.edu </div> <div> Subject: JOSH! </div> <div> March 2, 2003</div> <bR> <div> I called your home phone, your cell, and your mother's. No answer. I </div> <div> hunted down the Connecticut Democratic Headquarters. They said you were </div> <div> unavailable. What's going on????</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> Two days elapse before she manages to get a real human being on the </div> <div> phone. By then, panic is the emotion of choice. Sam answers when she </div> <div> calls Josh's mother, and his voice on a different coast, without warning, </div> <div> throws her. His voice cracks when he tells her Josh is in the hospital. </div> <div> There was a time, only months before, when she would have been the first </div> <div> to know. Now, she's the last. Only the media picks up the story later </div> <div> than she does, but by then, she's forgotten notes and books and exams to </div> <div> catch the red-eye to New York and the shuttle to Hartford.</div> <bR> <div> CJ meets her at the airport. The former press secretary apologizes </div> <div> profusely for not calling her. "I thought you would have been the first </div> <div> to know." Donna wishes she had been. There's no changing that now though. </div> <div> The car ride passes quickly. She wants to go to the hospital. She has to </div> <div> go to the hospital.</div> <bR> <div> The walls are a pale cream, and the smell is familiar. The mix of rubbing </div> <div> alcohol, bleach, and sickness is embedded in her mind. She can't help but </div> <div> wonder if she'll ever think of hospitals in the same way. He's changed </div> <div> all that.</div> <bR> <div> Sam and Leo are standing outside his door, and both offer her apologetic </div> <div> looks. She can't be bothered with their guilt. She has to see him. He </div> <div> rests in the hospital bed, hair going in every direction, face pale. The </div> <div> steady beeping of a heart monitor assures her that he's alright for now. </div> <div> Miriam Lyman rises slowly. This young woman, this woman loves her son. </div> <bR> <div> Even the blind can see it, and she wonders why they can't. "Donna, have a </div> <div> seat." His mother guides her into a chair beside his hospital bed. She </div> <div> pats Donna on the shoulder, and leaves her alone with him. For eleven </div> <div> days, she has watched over her son. He's stronger now. He'll be well </div> <div> again. She only hopes that the young woman can make her son happy again.</div> <div> Alone, Donna slips her fingers around his hand. She smiles softly. His </div> <div> skin is warm. His hands are soft, strong. "Donnatella."</div> <bR> <div> "Shhh."</div> <bR> <div> She leans forward to brush his hair into one direction, and he brushes </div> <div> her cheek with his free hand. His eyes are brighter now than they have </div> <div> been over the past three months. Her heart pounds quicker in her chest. </div> <div> "You gave yourself a heart attack?"</div> <bR> <div> He gives her a wry smile. "Something like that."</div> <bR> <div> The tension is still evident in her face. "Will you be alright?"</div> <bR> <div> "Now that you're here."</div> <bR> <div> She stays with him until he reminds her, days later, about school. Donna </div> <div> lets the comment slide. She'll transfer to school in Connecticut. For </div> <div> now, her place is at his side. Five years' habit cannot be broken in </div> <div> three months. </div> <bR> <div> He worries that she's throwing away her future to hold his hand. He </div> <div> reminds her that he's fifteen years her senior, which in this day and age </div> <div> makes him old enough to be her father. She shrugs and kisses his </div> <div> forehead. He accepts her decisions and kisses her lips. The doctor </div> <div> interrupts them this time. Last time it was Toby. The time before, his </div> <div> mother.</div> <bR> <div> The list of cautions is longer this time. No coffee. Stress management. </div> <div> No fried food. Exercise. Forced reminders that the stiffness on his right </div> <div> side, and the persistent backache are symptomatic of serious injuries. </div> <div> Serious scars on his heart. </div> <bR> <div> She worries about the scars that don't leave marks. The scars on his </div> <div> heart Mandy put there. Joanie. Rosslyn. She's scared of hurting him. Her </div> <div> fear is nothing compared to his fear of hurting her. His fear of dying </div> <div> and leaving her alone. They've been through too much together to quit </div> <div> now. </div> <bR> <div> She holds his hand when he checks out of the hospital. He tells her he </div> <div> loves her. She cries. Long after everyone else has returned home - Sam </div> <div> and CJ to California; Toby to New York; Leo to DC; the Bartlet's back to </div> <div> New Hampshire - she is still in Connecticut. When March fades to April </div> <div> and the office of the State Chairman again buzzes with a frantic level of </div> <div> energy, a young woman with blond hair and a diamond ring gives orders.</div> <div>  </div> <div> The staff jokingly call her The Gatekeeper. She doesn't mind. It's true, </div> <div> after all, no one sees Josh without her permission. 2003 fades in to 2004 </div> <div> and Josh Lyman runs for the Senate. He's not the favorite, but he's never </div> <div> been known to give up. </div> <bR> <div> She stands next to him, supporting him, as Leo and Sam mobilize </div> <div> Connecticut. She smiles on cue as CJ manages the press. She massages the </div> <div> tension from his muscles long after the voters have fallen asleep and the </div> <div> newspapers have gone to print. He needs her. Politics, oxygen, and Donna. </div> <div> The three basic elements of his life.</div> <bR> <div> The day he is sworn in, she can't manage banter for love nor money. Her </div> <div> pride is too much. Tomorrow, she'll start brushing up on the rules of a </div> <div> filibuster. Today, she'll just watch him in his element, and direct the </div> <div> operations of her new office.</div> <bR> <div> This challenge, like all the others, they'll face together.</div> <bR> <div> Being disconnected never worked for them.</div> <bR> <div> Those three months reminded them of that.</div> <bR> <div> =====</div> <bR> <div> "You are watching CSPAN. We return to our live coverage of the Senate. </div> <div> Connecticut Senator Donnatella Lyman is currently in her thirteenth hour </div> <div> of a filibuster to block a vote on the repeal of the 2019 Crime Bill. The </div> <div> bill was one of her late husband's last acts in the Senate. For those of </div> <div> you unfamiliar with the Lyman's....."</div> <bR> <div> Sam shook his head, watching Donna wearily open a battered notebook. He'd </div> <div> sent it down to the floor for her. They were Josh's notes on the Crime </div> <div> Bill, his speeches. She needed something to keep her going, and that was </div> <div> that. Josh had fought long and hard for that bill. He heard Donna's voice </div> <div> crack as Senator Wyatt stepped on up to a microphone. Andy asked her a </div> <div> question. He smiled. Old tricks still work. </div> <bR> <div> The fight was Quixotic and he knew it. In her heart, he was certain she </div> <div> knew it. Neither or them would ever admit that this thing Josh worked so </div> <div> hard for couldn't be saved. In a way, they were trying to make up for </div> <div> failing to save Josh. He had been fifty-nine. Donnatella sat in his seat </div> <div> for the remainder of his term. His heart hadn't been able to give him </div> <div> everything he needed.</div> <bR> <div> Thirty-seven minutes later, Andy Wyatt concluded her question. She would </div> <div> have winked at Donna, but the other woman was too busy watching the </div> <div> senate gallery. She didn't need to watch to know the faces staring down. </div> <div> The vote had come at last, but public sympathy had saved several pieces. </div> <div> Donna supposed that was the best the could have come from a last stand </div> <div> like that. She had come here to share her small victory.</div> <bR> <div> Joshua Lyman </div> <div> Beloved husband, friend, son </div> <div> 1960-2019</div> <bR> <div> Bowing her head, she lay a rose on the grave and whispered to the wind.</div> <div> She had disconnected herself from a life of lies and pain and sorrow in </div> <div> Wisconsin and left everything behind. He had let her into his life in </div> <div> Manchester, and they connected over beers and pizza in Omaha. She had </div> <div> managed his life in the White House. He had disconnected her from a dozen </div> <div> local gomers. She had failed to connect him to Joey Lucas.</div> <bR> <div> Their hearts had connected over defeat in November and packing in </div> <div> January. Distance has disconnected them, only to bridge the distance by </div> <div> computer, and the longing by an abrupt and painful reconnection in a </div> <div> hospital room.</div> <bR> <div> God and the state of Connecticut had bound their hearts.</div> <bR> <div> Politics had driven her back to his office. His ambition had driven them </div> <div> back to Washington. Love had connected them through elections, battles, </div> <div> and bantering. Fear has broken down their barriers. </div> <bR> <div> She would always ease his nightmares.</div> <bR> <div> He would always dry her tears.</div> <bR> <div> It was death that disconnected their hands. </div> <bR> <div> Not even eternity could disconnect their hearts.</div> <bR> <div> They played Ave Maria and America the Beautiful at his funeral. Autumn </div> <div> colors blanketed the mall. Everywhere she looked, she was reminded of </div> <div> him.</div> <bR> <div> She honored his memory and longed for his touch.</div> <bR> <div> Three times his state elected her to the senate. Three times she swore an </div> <div> oath, knowing in her heart, she pledged not to God, but to him. All her </div> <div> political vows were to him.</div> <bR> <div> They played Amazing Grace and Chances Are at her funeral. Cherry blossoms </div> <div> blanketed the city. Those who had known her mourned. Those that had known </div> <div> them - they smiled.</div> <bR> <div> Donnatella Moss Lyman </div> <div> And God shall wipe away every tear </div> <div> 1975-2041</div> <bR> <div> Connected again.</div> <bR> <div> back</div> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" height=25 BGCOLOR="#FFFF33" TEXT="#080000"> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>