Stan has been Sheriff since 1999, when he defeated the incumbent Carl Peed in a very bruising race.   Political trivia:  Stan’s father Warren Barry (R-Fairfax) was a sitting State Senator in 1999, who used his campaign funds to help Stan get elected as a Democrat over the Republican incumbent Peed.

The Fairfax establishment mostly yawned, except for one outspoken young GOP lawyer from western Fairfax who vowed to challenge Barry in his next Republican primary.  Barry decided to retire in 2002 and avoid the hassle.  That challenger won his seat in 2002 and has been a staple in state politics ever since.

You should know by now who it is ….

Back on point, Stan has been a low-key Sheriff, who eschews the limelight.  By and large, the County jail and sheriff’s office have been well-run and well-respected for years.

Should be an interesting succession battle …

(I once got a call from a guy running for President but never called him back.  Never leave a message at our household for “Chad”).

Every time I meet someone, I always ask the same question:  Do you want to win?  Are you prepared to win?

It’s not an idle question.  People run for office for all sorts of reasons:  a zest for notoriety, a feeling of obligation, a particular issue they want to highlight.  But do they run to win?

If you run to win, you act differently.  Everything you do has a purpose:  winning.  You raise money ruthlessly.  You save money wherever you can.  You knock doors or shake hands at every chance.  You seize opportunities to speak to issues.  At other times, you keep your mouth shut and avoid making unnecessary enemies.

I mention this because of the recent 2013 Republican Convention.  I didn’t attend, but I did listen to some colorful analysis on the radio.  (BTW, I lost my only statewide primary in 2005 so I offer nothing but admiration – not advice – to the unsuccessful candidates).

In a primary, the winner is inevitably someone who runs to win.  No one else can raise the necessary funds.  No one else can invest the time meeting thousands and thousands of votes, who may potentially vote.  No one else can see it to the end.

A convention is different.  A convention of delegates, especially one with many choices, will end up nominating somebody that THEY CHOOSE.  That’s great, except they may end up nominating somebody who’s running for a cause or a soapbox, but not necessarily running to win in November.

Not a sermon, just a thought.

Sounds like the LG nomination is going down to the wire.  Pass the popcorn!

Today, I could talk about the relative merits of “competitive sealed bidding” and “competitive negotiation.”  Or I could talk about Gatsby.

Let’s talk about Gatsby.

With the possible exception of “Caddyshack,” no other artistic work has wound its way more deeply into the modern American consciousness than F. Scott Fitzgerald’s ode to youth, beauty and the Roaring Twenties.

I read “The Great Gatsby” when I was 22, then re-read it again and again.  It became my favorite book and Fitzgerald my favorite American author.  Watching the movie last night, I knew the words to every scene.  (Credit the director for faithfully following the book’s riveting dialogue, especially in scenes between Tom, Daisy, Nick and Gatsby).

The movie added some twists.  For example, Tom Buchanan — the overbearing bully from Yale — actually becomes a more nuanced character in the movie.  In a way, you do see him as the perfect husband for the narcissistic Daisy.

DiCaprio, as expected, was on-target as Gatsby.  His physical presence filled the screen and typified the peculiarly American ambition of the protagonist.

The Australian director also did a fine job of conveying the manic energy and booze-saturated social life of New York in the Twenties.  (I had no problem with the Jay-Z scores, which amplified the scenes).  Which brings me to my sole but major criticism …

The Great Gatsby was not just about New York and the flapper style.  It was about two young men  (Carraway and Gatsby) who came to New York, but were outsiders to its life and culture.  The movie marks that “outsider” status but doesn’t give any hint of where they came from, i.e. the farm states of the Midwest.

In a lot of ways, the  literary “Great Gatsby” was an ode to the simpler “obscure” half of America, where people didn’t swim naked in bathtubs of illegal gin.  That Middle America was filled with people like young “James Gatz” who rose early in the morning for farming chores and read great books by candlelight.

That Middle America also spawned Nick Carraway who ultimately rejects the lifestyle of East Egg and tells Gatsby that he’s better “than the whole rotten bunch.” (In the movie, Tobey Maguire has the naivete and earnestness of young Carraway, but lacks the moral distance that the book’s Midwestern narrator maintained to NYC life).

Critically, in its final moments, the director has Nick Carraway write about “the green light on the end of Daisy’s dock” and how Gatsby chased that dream “but it eluded him.”  He failed to mention the book’s epitaph on Gatsby’s dream:  “He did not know that it lay buried behind him, somewhere in that vast obscurity beyond the City, where the dark fields of the Republic rolled on under the night.”

East Egg was not part of Fitzgerald’s vast obscurity.  Never was.  Indeed, it was originally “the fresh green breast ” which had been corrupted by the money, greed, and stupidity of modern life in the Twenties.

However, the “vast obscurity” of the Great Republic and its values survived and endured.  It was in the DNA of Jay Gatsby and Nick Carraway, no matter how much they tried to pretend otherwise.  They would always be different.

Fitzgerald (who was from Minnesota) understood that.  The movie director did not

The source of that competitiveness is my mother.  She doesn’t back down to anyone.  Years ago, I played her in tennis, her favorite sport.  She ran me all over the court, eventually beating me 6-0.  After she won the last point, I was so angry I threw my racket into the parking lot.

Did I mention I was 35 years old at the time?

Growing up, my mom pushed me and my two sisters to be more than spectators in life.  If nobody provided opportunities for us, she did it herself.  She was the room mother who organized school field trips.  The team manager who got everyone to practice.  The midnight editor of countless term papers.

My mom had high standards, but that was OK.  She had confidence in us, and that confidence carried over in our own endeavors.  O f course, she didn’t spare us from criticism either on occasion.

One thing I learned from my Mom:  things went better when you worked as a team — and let others take the credit.  That was especially true for families.  Everything we accomplished, we did as a family.  Nobody did it alone.

My mom has been with me my 45 years, including the last fourteen as a parent myself.  I couldn’t do it without you, Mom.  Happy Mother’s Day.  Love you!