In the passing of former Sen. Orrin Hatch, R-Utah, the country lost a statesman. We bid farewell to not only a man who served the country for decades in the Senate but a patriot and a decent human being.
In 2003, at the beginning of the War on Terror and conflict in Afghanistan, the Republican Senate Caucus (which included Sen. Hatch) held a dinner at Walter Reed Army Medical Center to honor wounded warriors. It had been a generation since the military hospital saw the number of severely injured military personnel who seemed to arrive daily.
Considering the significant number of women with severe injuries receiving treatment at Walter Reed, the Republican Senate Caucus invited my wife to speak and perform at the dinner. While not wounded in combat, Gracie lost both legs from a devastating car accident in 1983 and has undergone more than 80 operations. Yet, despite her massive challenges, she pushed herself to live a life of purpose, had two sons, and performs and speaks around the country.
Following Gracie’s closing song titled “We Will Stand,” dozens of wounded men and women clustered around her wanting to know about her prostheses, talk with her and connect with someone who understood their new path.
Hatch tried to reach through the crowd of amputees in wheelchairs and on crutches to shake Gracie’s hand – but to no avail. Turning to me, he smiled and said (with thick emotion), “I’m not important – she’s right where she needs to be.”
Taking the senator’s outstretched hand, I nodded with admiration for his humility and perspective.
In the vitriol of our divided nation, Orrin Hatch’s gentleness and poise remain sorely missed. While certainly no pushover (he was an accomplished boxer), he disarmed his opponents with splendid manners and behavior, and his hand seemed willing to reach further than most to cooperate. Principles, decorum and dignity are all words that many will appropriately use to eulogize Orrin Hatch. Yet, sadly, those words seem mocked in today’s culture. Where does the nation return to regain respect for one another?
The slow walk of relationship-building that Hatch modeled feels outdated and cast aside in today’s soundbite-addicted culture. Clamoring for attention and the photo-op, many elected officials miss moments that humility affords – and history rewards.
A powerful U.S. senator recognized that wounded warriors needed something he did not possess. Watching them receive it from a young mother of two who stood on metal legs, he expressed a patriotism that eludes so many others. Hatch put those who bore horrific scars of duty before himself in the best way possible.
The hall that night was filled with influential politicians, military leaders and celebrities, yet I was the only one in the room who witnessed Hatch’s quiet and humble act. He and those few like him deserve America’s gratitude for modeling what is best from and for our nation.
Maybe the loss of his brother in World War II loomed heavy in his mind as he saw that crowd of wounded servicemen and women. It appears so much of his demeanor reflected his humble beginnings that instilled a sense of gratitude that lasted a lifetime. While some arrive in power with an air of entitlement, Hatch seemed to reflect a sense of duty and responsibility. How else could he make such a statement as he did to me that night?
“I’m not important….”
Our nation is on the ropes – culturally, politically and financially. We seem adrift, and the unsettledness across the land is palpable. Hatch’s simple optimism, fierce patriotism and immense work ethic can continue to coalesce us into the great nation we were and can still be.
Hatch’s own words reflect his clarity and now echo past his life: “If we worked together, we could pull this country out of every mess it is in.”
Peter Rosenberger
Peter Rosenberger hosts the nationally syndicated radio program, “Hope for the Caregiver.” www.hopeforthecaregiver.com
@hope4caregiver
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