Rossi needs to let it go, move on

During my freshman year of high school, I had a crush on a boy who was childhood friends with my buddy Chris Genova. This boy and I danced together at a Gonzaga Prep mixer, some sparks flew, but then he never called. One Monday, after I discovered Chris had run into this boy over the weekend, I quizzed her: Did he ask about me? Did she think he would ever call me?

Chris, who was already wise at 15, told me: “That’s history. And no one likes to talk about history.” I learned that day that when it’s over, it’s over. To preserve your dignity, move on.

Dino Rossi visited our editorial board Thursday. He spoke eloquently about why he’s still fighting the good fight to be Washington’s governor. Monday, Rossi reiterated his determination to stick it out, with some qualifiers. If the courts overturn Christine Gregoire’s victory and install Rossi as governor, he said he’d resign, then work toward a new election.

With the lesson of Chris Genova in mind, I say to Rossi today: “Let it go right now. Move on. Save your dignity.”

If Gregoire were in Rossi’s situation, I’d write the same thing. Honest.

I feel sorry for Rossi, and he’s not a man who easily evokes pity. Thursday, he arrived at the newspaper with two men in tow – a staffer and an officer with the Washington State Patrol, both dressed in dark suits. This was his entourage. The two men looked quite young. The staffer grew nervous about 20 minutes into our 30-minute meeting because Rossi’s plane had been delayed coming from Seattle, and he was backed up on appointments.

The staffer was sincere in his worry, but his gesture had a forced quality to it, as if to say, “We’re still important, too.”

I immediately flashed to another memory from adolescence. A friend’s older brother, a popular high school guy, broke up with his longtime girlfriend to date someone else. My friend and I ran into the dumped girlfriend in the fitting room of the old Lerner’s department store in downtown Spokane.

She told us all about her new boyfriend who drove a really cool car and took her to all these nifty places. My friend and I knew she was telling us this so we’d tell the older brother. We could tell that she missed the old boyfriend so much. No way was this new guy a satisfying substitute.

As Rossi’s staffer kept reminding his boss they had to get moving because of his next appointment – an interview at a TV station – I kept thinking: Rossi’s busy, but no way is this schedule a substitute for a governor’s schedule.

Rossi told us he’s spending some quality time with his four kids, ages 4 to 14. “I do the carpooling in the morning to give my wife a break,” he said.

During the campaign, he was away from home a lot, and his face brightened when he spoke of this extra time now with his children. He’ll never regret these moments. He can run for another office, and I hope he does, but his children will never again be these ages, in such need of attention from the governor of their young lives.

Toward the end of our meeting, Rossi insisted: “I’m not a government in exile.”

Later that afternoon, I spotted Rossi at the Spokane Regional Convention and Visitors Bureau annual meeting. Rossi and his entourage took a seat at a table in the back of the room. I was seated a few tables away.

During introductions, when all the elected officials were asked to stand, Rossi remained seated, his face somber, looking exiled from what he desired most. I looked away, embarrassed for him.

I daydreamed once more, remembering a lesson learned in my teen years when I worked summers as a “park lady.” Always end activities at their peak, the park recreation leaders taught us, because children will remember them fondly and be eager for the activity again. If the game goes on too long, things deteriorate. The kids act up or get injured or fail to return to the park the next time.

My daydream over, I looked back to where Rossi was sitting. He and his entourage had left the building. They were history.