By Michele Deluca/delucam@gnnewspaper.com
April 04, 2008 03:02 pm
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Dear Eliot: It seems John Lennon was right. Instant karma got to you.
I don’t know if you believe in karma, but it’s the idea that if you do something really lousy, some divine being looks down at you with great love and says: "Dear one, if you’re going to persist in that bad behavior, let me show you how it feels when someone does it back to you."
And whammo. There you were, hoisted, as they say, by your own petard.
Now, there are really not too many of us who can throw stones at you. Me, I’ve got my own demons. I can pretty much manage to stay a step or two ahead of them, but, they’ve caught up with me a time or two and created a little pile of my greatest regrets.
The difference between you and me is I never ever held myself up to be anybody special. I never said I would chase down and catch all the bad guys. I never said I would fix anybody’s life. I never, ever promised that on day one, everything would change.
But you made people believe in the possibility that something good was going to happen, that maybe you would get those people in Albany to think about families without health insurance or those trying to be safe in neighborhoods full of drug dealers. Maybe think about the small business people working every day carrying a bag of big rocks on their backs that governments just keep making heavier and heavier.
I really believed in you. I said to people that this Spitzer guy is the real deal. I watched you move up the ranks, stepping on the backs of all those bad guys. A superhero in spectacles.
You’re like those people who rail against letting gay people have equal rights, and who then turn out to be tapping their foot in the men’s room.
That kind of hypocrisy from spiritual and political leaders, that kind of unbending judgmental righteousness is what galls me the most. I can usually spot the worst of them, but you somehow got under my radar. I pulled a lever and helped give you the chance to betray us all.
I know political power is intoxicating. I’ve seen for myself how, even at the lowest levels of the game, people line up to the kiss the ring of politicians because they want something.
I can only imagine how it must have felt to be governor. Security men protecting you at all times because you were so important. Maximum fawning from all the people who thought you could somehow help them or their cause.
Here’s the thing. I am hoping that this fall from grace turns out to be the best thing that ever happened to you. You are going to get a chance to reimagine your life and decide if you really have anything of value inside of you. You are certainly going to learn who your friends are. In fact, you are probably already learning that right now.
Actually, I’m your friend Eliot. Even though you broke my heart, I can see the potential in your dark night of the soul. You are surely not going to get punished legally for what you did, but I’ll bet you’re getting plenty of punishment anyway. Your choice now is how you will stand back up.
May I suggest you take some time to decide how to really use all that power for good. Go meditate. Go talk to God. Go on a vision quest, like the Native Americans used to do, and find out what you are really made of.
Maybe you can become the superhero you wanted us all to believe you were. Maybe this experience will teach you a little compassion for those who fall from grace. Maybe you really could find a way to use all those brains to help the families and small businesses struggling so desperately to stay afloat.
God knows, Eliot, this world could sure use some more good guys. It would really be great if you turned out to be one.
Contact editor Michele DeLuca at 693-1000, ext. 157.
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