The Audacity of Hope
IT’S BEEN ALMOST ten years since I first ran for political office. I was thirty-five at the time, four years out of law school, recently married, and generally impatient with life. A seat in the
“You seem like a nice enough guy. Why do you want to go into something dirty and nasty like politics?”
The pleasures of politics— the adrenaline of debate, the warmth of shaking hands and plunging into a crowd—began to pale against the meaner tasks of the job: the begging for money, the long drives home after the banquet had run two hours longer than scheduled, the clipped phone conversations with a wife who had stuck by me so far but was pretty fed up with raising our children alone and was beginning to question my priorities. I began to harbor doubts about the path I had chosen.
At some point, though, I arrived at acceptance—of my limits, and, in a way, my mortality. I came to appreciate how the earth rotated around the sun and the seasons came and went without any particular exertions on my part.
[Extracted by Mahendra Meghani from the book The Audacity of Hope]