Lochinvar Obama Rides to the Rescue

Barack Obama has pulled off his greatest victory and has brought (near) universal health care to America.  Last night the House of Representatives approved the Senate bill, and once Obama signs the final result, universal coverage will be the law of the land.  To be sure, some drama remains.  It is understood that the Senate will amend the bill to speak to some of the House’s concerns—the House passed the bill with this understanding.  The Republicans are sure to object and will demand the right to filibuster the amending.  And then, I suppose, the Supreme Court could step in and find the whole bill unconstitutional.  But that seems a little extreme even for this activist court.

In any event, Obama has proved that he has mettle.  In a fascinating article in yesterday’s New York Times, we learn how health care reform came back from the dead.  A key figure was House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, who persuaded Obama that it was “now or never” for health care reform, even as other Democrats were urging him to turn his attention elsewhere.  Soft-spoken Senate Leader Harry Reid has also shown spine in the effort, which is all the more remarkable since his efforts could cost him his seat in the upcoming election.

So Obama hasn’t done it alone.  But he has been the difference maker, showing both resolve and passion as he has virtually gambled his presidency on universal heath care.  South Carolina Senator Jim DeMint might not have been entirely wrong when he said, “If we’re able to stop Obama on this it will be his Waterloo. It will break him.”  It doesn’t appear easy to break Obama, however, especially since he seems most resilient when his back is against the wall.  He proved resilient here.  As the New York Times article reveals, Obama has not only been at his inspirational best in recent weeks, but he has also been tactically brilliant, especially in last month’s Democratic-Republican summit on health care.  

I wonder if some of Obama’s dedication to the cause comes having watched his mother, while dying of cancer, arguing with insurance companies about coverage.  His conviction, which has been necessary to convince politicians to take risks that could lose them their seats, seems to come from a deep place.

To celebrate the leadership of this young president, I am quoting the ultra-Romantic 1808 poem by Sir Walter Scott, “Lochinvar.”  It’s about a young man who enters a hostile environment and saves his ladylove from being married off to his dastardly rival.  See this as Obama riding into the formidable arena of health care reform, where many before him have been slain, and saving Lady Universal Coverage.  The status quo, like a miserable marriage, threatened to prevail, but Lochinvar Obama showed dash and courage as he danced with the fair damsel before the eyes of entrenched lobbyists and political interests and then whisked her off to start a new future. “‘She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;/They’ll have fleet steeds that follow,’ quoth young Lochinvar.”

If your politics go in another direction, feel free to apply the poem to your own heroic story—say, George Bush Junior riding into Saddam Hussein’s Iraq and rescuing the Iraqi people from his vile cluches.  I am aware that, even as my heart sings over this news and I reach out to high romanticism to articulate the momentousness of it all, I have conservative friends who feel that a terrible mistake has been made.

Here’s the poem:

Lochinvar

O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
And save his good broadsword he weapons had none,
He rode all unarm’d, and he rode all alone.
So faithful in love, and so dauntless in war,
There never was knight like the young Lochinvar.

He staid not for brake, and he stopp’d not for stone,

He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;

But ere he alighted at Netherby gate,

The bride had consented, the gallant came late:

For a laggard in love, and a dastard in war,

Was to wed the fair Ellen of brave Lochinvar.

So boldly he enter’d the Netherby Hall,

Among bride’s-men, and kinsmen, and brothers and all: 

Then spoke the bride’s father, his hand on his sword, 

(For the poor craven bridegroom said never a word,) 

“O come ye in peace here, or come ye in war,

Or to dance at our bridal, young Lord Lochinvar?”

“I long woo’d your daughter, my suit you denied;—
Love swells like the Solway, but ebbs like its tide—
And now I am come, with this lost love of mine,

To lead but one measure, drink one cup of wine.

There are maidens in Scotland more lovely by far,

That would gladly be bride to the young Lochinvar.” 

The bride kiss’d the goblet: the knight took it up,

He quaff’d off the wine, and he threw down the cup.

She look’d down to blush, and she look’d up to sigh,

With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye.

He took her soft hand, ere her mother could bar,–
“Now tread we a measure!” said young Lochinvar.

So stately his form, and so lovely her face,

That never a hall such a gailiard did grace;

While her mother did fret, and her father did fume

And the bridegroom stood dangling his bonnet and plume;

And the bride-maidens whisper’d, “’twere better by far

To have match’d our fair cousin with young Lochinvar.”

One touch to her hand, and one word in her ear,

When they reach’d the hall-door, and the charger stood near;

So light to the croupe the fair lady he swung,

So light to the saddle before her he sprung!

“She is won! we are gone, over bank, bush, and scaur;

They’ll have fleet steeds that follow,” quoth young Lochinvar.

There was mounting ‘mong Graemes of the Netherby clan;

Forsters, Fenwicks, and Musgraves, they rode and they ran:

There was racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee,

But the lost bride of Netherby ne’er did they see.

So daring in love, and so dauntless in war,

Have ye e’er heard of gallant like young Lochinvar?