Dear Congressperson-Elect,

                  Surprised? I’ll bet. It’s one thing to envision a gleaming summit, another to arrive.

                  Remember that first meeting in your living room over coffee and donuts? How your pals cheered you on, rolling their eyes when you turned your back? All the help they promised? Some even delivered.

                  Those first hires – what was that kid’s name, who passed himself off as an influencer? And those pricey consultants with their strategies, nodding knowingly: “doable,” completely “winnable” – for an arm and a leg.

                  The debt. Doubt. Stress. Would the kids ever forgive you? Would your marriage survive? It was crazy – to have aimed so high. But it had to be done, right? Somebody had to stop this slide into fascism – at least try.

                  Now comes the hard part. Governing’s grueling if you do it right. The compromises – conscience versus caucus. Learning curve. Money-grubbing. Bullies.

                  And the advice! Some jobs everybody and their stepsister knows how to do. During the decades I edited a local newspaper, every day, in stereo, advice, advice, advice. Not something that happens to neurosurgeons or accountants.

                  Let me add to your pile. Another gassy old guy. Yeh, he contributed a few bucks, attended that meet-and-greet: but now he thinks he owns me. Grrrrr…

                  Tip number one: Govern like you mean it. The bums we just booted treated elected office as a hustle. The attention, side-deals, junkets. All you had to do was play ball. They boasted about their “party discipline.” Emasculation’s more like it. Yes, you’ve got to pick your fights, trade favors, hold your nose sometimes, but do it consciously, not helplessly. The Nameless One gloated about humiliating his underlings. What asses they made of themselves, those Senators and cabinet members, in their zeal to brownnose! Cling to your honor – funny old word, right?

                  Stand for something. On the hustings, promising’s easy. If the man wants a blue suit, turn on a blue light. But we sent you to Washington to represent, not rubber-stamp. Choose your issues, then work them like there’s no tomorrow. Risk the wrath of the good ole boys. “Make good trouble.” Be flexible in your politics, but firm in your principles. You’ll most likely lose – but not your self-respect.

                  Lie with regret. We all have to trim the truth to get along, congratulate what we abominate, praise where we despise. Feed the press daintily. No reporter who’s worth anything can be your friend; they’re just waiting to pounce. Everybody knows this. But always prefer to tell the truth, when you can, earning your colleagues’ and constituents’ trust. The worst offense of the Nameless One – and there are cartloads to choose from – has been his incessant assault on truth. You couldn’t believe a word he said. If he told the truth, it was by chance, because it suited his purpose. He made us think every politician was a sleazebag. Be one who isn’t.

                  Try doing right. Sounds kind of namby-pamby. Schoolmarmish. Under this misadministration, it became a joke. Right was for wimps and ninnies. The name of the game was winning – the more the better. Truth, justice, decency be damned! They ridiculed their supporters as dopes and dupes – and we the people took it. Look who’s laughing now.

                  Dream. America is an idea. Not an address, lawbook, balance sheet, but a collective notion how best to be in this world. We’re different from many nations that way – from the start we’ve aimed for moral glory. Our greatest leaders spoke to that yearning. Keep that fire burning. Lead, do not follow. Preach. Reread Lincoln before bed. Believe we can be better than we are.