Reflections from the River

Gifted conversationalist...

June 24, 2021 Bill Enyart
Reflections from the River
Gifted conversationalist...
Show Notes Transcript

A curly-headed girl from Belleville, Illinois, and an hour with Colin Powell...

Gifted conversationalist...

Although she will deny it, my wife, Annette, is an incredibly socially gifted person. Children adore her. When she was a lawyer, her clients sent her Christmas presents, thank you cards and flowers. Even as a judge, people she had sentenced to prison would come up to her after completing their sentence and thank her for the respect she had shown for their human dignity even though they were felons.

She has the remarkable ability to speak to people at their level, whether children, seniors, powerful or poverty-stricken, without condescension to those at the lowest levels of social strata, nor fawning to those at the most powerful.

I have heard her translate complex legal problems into vignettes that primary schoolers can understand. I have read legislation she has drafted to solve complex legal problems adopted unchanged by the Illinois General Assembly.

Her ability to communicate with people at all ages and levels is truly a gift that few have.

She was very comfortable in her role as a lawyer, first in 
 Chicago and later in Belleville, Illinois, her suburban St. Louis, hometown. Her skill at talking with, understanding and communicating with people at all levels of society only became more polished in her role as a judge. Whether sitting in divorce court, traffic court, hearing a complex medical malpractice case or a heinous murder case she had the ability to communicate with lawyers, fellow judges, jurors, witnesses, media and citizens. Her ability to communicate with this wide array of people undoubtedly played a role in her election as the first woman circuit judge in the five Southwestern Illinois counties of the Twentieth Judicial Circuit.

As skilled as she is at meeting people, initiating conversation and forming personal relationships with a wide variety of people, I suspect the biggest communications challenge of her many roles in life was as my spouse.

Although Annette’s dad and several family members were veterans, and I was a veteran and serving Army National Guard officer for the first twenty-five years of our marriage, Annette didn’t consider herself a military spouse. She really didn’t know much about the military. I would periodically leave for my weekend Guard duty, or my weeks-long military training, or weeks-long flood duty or overseas exercises, but other than an occasional interruption to our family life, my part-time Guard career wasn’t part of our daily life.

That changed when I took command of the thirteen-thousand soldiers and airmen of the Illinois Army and Air National Guard. As the full-time commanding general, or Adjutant General, during a time of war, it was my job to train, equip and order the largely part-time military force into combat zones, as well as ensure they were prepared for natural disasters such as floods, blizzards or domestic unrest.

As the commanding general’s wife, she had to comfort a weeping child whose daddy or mommy was leaving for a year in Afghanistan. She had to hug a grief-stricken spouse or parent or child who had just lost a loved one to a faraway war. She smiled at soldiers while dishing up Christmas dinner with me in a small-town National Guard armory. She had to comfort me as I wept after yet another funeral of a soldier I had sent to war.

Her communication skills never failed her.

My career path once again challenged those marvelous skills when I was elected to Congress to represent Southern Illinois after retiring from the Army National Guard.

I flew to Washington DC every week while Congress would be in session. Now a criminal justice professor at Lindenwood University-Belleville, after retiring as a judge, she could only occasionally accompany me. 

She happened to be in Washington DC when a Congressional Democratic defense policy group scheduled dinner in the Capitol with retired General and former Secretary of Defense Colin Powell. As a member of the House Armed Service Committee, I was one of the handful of Congressmen invited to attend the dinner. Annette was the only Congressional spouse to attend.

As Annette will gladly tell you, one of my maxims, as a former soldier, is “If you’re on time, you’re late.” So, of course, we arrived at the private dining room in the basement of the Capitol at 6:55 pm. The event was to start at 7 pm. The rectangular grouping of tables was still being set up for twenty diners. Other than the tuxed-clad staff setting up the white-linen covered tables, we were the sole occupants of the room. We took seats at the end of the table closest to the door. Three minutes later, at 6:58 pm, General Powell walked in. 

Zero other occupants. He sat down next to us and we began chatting, or I should say Annette and General Powell began chatting. It was fifteen minutes before a single other Congressman showed up. By 7:30 the room had filled with the twenty or so invitees. General Powell began speaking. A loud buzzer, announcing that votes had begun, interrupted. Offices and meeting rooms throughout the Capitol complex are equipped with a decades-old buzzer system to alert Congressmen that votes are taking place. 

One of the risks of scheduling any meeting in the Capitol complex is that it will be interrupted by the buzzer sounding the call to vote. One ignores the call to vote at one’s peril. It’s considered bad form to miss a vote and missing votes is frequently raised as a campaign issue by opponents.

With mumbled apologies all the congressmen got up and left the room for a series of votes that would last an hour!

The little curly-haired girl from Belleville, as Annette likes to describe herself, was left as the sole conversationalist for the world-famous general.

Her skills did not fail her. Convicted felon, third grader, world leader, they all like to talk to her.

 Reflection From The River
(c) William L. Enyart 2021
www.billenyart.com
Email: bill@billenyart.com