As some of you might recall, I was a Contributing Editor at Daily Kos from December 2007 until the spring of 2009, when I left to take a position at the Democratic Senatorial Campaign Committee. I worked there until December 31, and I'm now reinstated as a contributing editor writing for the FP again.
I'd meant to write something welcoming myself back and talking about how two years as a Democratic staffer had changed me - no details, but some of the general things I'd learned, how they'd impacted my writing and thought, how they'd affect my future plans and dreams.
Instead, like millions of Americans (and certainly every other Democrat in Washington, DC), I find it very difficult to write or even think about anything other than the tragedy in Arizona.
DC is a big city, but the world of professional Democrats and progressives (particularly in a specialized field, like online) is pretty small. It's filled with smart, talented, ambitious people who all know each other. And consequently, many I know have a very personal stake in this tragedy.
"Was so-and-so there? Have you heard from her? I was in New Hampshire with her..."..."I heard from such-and-such and he's fine, in Chicago this weekend actually"...
Confusion reigned - she was shot in the head? She's dead? She's not dead? There are how many dead? Including a little girl? How could this happen?
Everyone ran pretty much the same emotional gauntlet - shock, fear, panic, vulnerability, bewilderment, rage, a too-early-in-the-day glass of whiskey, and fevered phone calls and emails to anyone who might know anything, mostly trying to confirm the safety of friends.
Above all else, it was sadness.
Some felt like they knew this would happen eventually, and have been dreading violence against a Democratic figure for much of the last two years. Even as early as Netroots Nation '09, during the heat of the health-care debate and the wild town halls that accompanied it, people would warn you to watch your ass in Pittsburgh, they know where you guys are staying and it only takes one crazy person. But it's impossible to really be mentally prepared for something like this.
It was impossible for a staffer not to think something like this could happen to One Of Us eventually - though of course that's a risk for any American. One of Giffords' staffers is gone now, but so are several of her constituents who aren't Congressional staffers. Crazy people with guns can hurt anybody if they happen to be near them.
In earlier days, political junkies always speculated on Giffords' future, as she was not only an excellent public servant but almost universally recognized as an exceptional political talent. Governor Giffords, Senator Giffords...maybe, on a wild flight of fancy, the first female President, the first Jewish President? That's the future Democrats used to dream of for her...and now we all just dream for her to be awake again.
We were glued to the TV or on the phone for almost the entire day, hours on end - friends would forget to eat, or do errands, or so forth because they didn't want to miss even the slightest bit of news. Finally, at the end of the day, we realized the breaking news was in and there was nothing more we could "do"...so we went out, craving human companionship because maybe a few friends and some whiskey could make you feel less numb for a little while.
I think more than a few people my age wondered if this is what the '60s were like all the time. We were that shaken.
It both shook and reaffirmed commitment to what we do - it was the starkest reminder that it's difficult to be in public service, that it's dangerous at times, that it really does require courage...and that if people like Gabby Giffords don't do it, someone else will, and we'll be worse off as a nation.
And man, some staffers - like Giffords intern Daniel Hernandez and her district director Ron Barber - care so much about their bosses and will go so far to protect them that they honor the entire profession:
Using his hand, Hernandez applied pressure to the entry wound on her forehead. He pulled her into his lap, holding her upright against him so she wouldn't choke on her own blood. Giffords was conscious, but quiet.
Ron Barber, Giffords' district director, was next to her. Hernandez told a bystander how to apply pressure to one of Barber's wounds.
Barber told Hernandez, "Make sure you stay with Gabby. Make sure you help Gabby."
That's an intern, on the job five days, who runs into the middle of a danger zone to try and save his boss' life. And a staffer, lying on the ground after being shot, who can only say "make sure you help Gabby". We hear about that, and we're reminded of what heroism and selflessness are really like.
So DC is probably like any other place in America at this moment, except because we all live and breathe politics, and everyone knows everyone else, a tragedy befalling a Member of Congress hits very close to home.
I loved my time at the DSCC and in Washington. I worked with, and befriended, some brilliant, prodigiously talented and relentlessly industrious people. It was an awfully hard cycle to be a Democrat in DC and nothing worked out quite the way we'd planned - but I learned an incredible amount, worked hard and don't regret taking the job for a minute.
Generally speaking, my 21-month sabbatical was great. Yesterday, not so much. But it is the most honest account I can give of what living in DC among political operatives was like.