Congressman Lantos' life one of open-mindedness, experience and heroism
Christina Kiser
Issue date: 2/19/08 Section: Opinion
This past Monday, a man unknown to many of you died. Up until a little over a month ago, he was unknown to me too, and probably would have stayed that way had I not picked the House Committee on Foreign Affairs as the place I wanted to intern this semester. But I did pick the HCFA, and as a result the name Tom Lantos became quite familiar to me over the course of the past five weeks.
Congressman Lantos died after a relatively short battle with esophageal cancer. I never met him during the days I was at the Capitol Building. Not that I expected to bump into him all the time anyway, because I am just a lowly intern, after all, a title which is lower than dirt in the Hill's complex pecking order.
But when I heard on Monday morning that he had passed away, I was first shocked (I didn't know that his health had deteriorated so rapidly) and then began to feel a kind of dull sadness -- not so strong that I couldn't go about my day, but strong enough to be noticeable.
My sadness, I think, came from the new realization that I would never have the opportunity to shake his hand, answer the requisite questions of where I'm from, what I'm majoring in, and how I'm liking my internship.
I was sad not for having known him, but for having not known him, if that makes sense.
When I got to work the next morning (I'm there Tuesdays and Thursdays), the office was understandably a little subdued.
My inbox was flooded with e-mails -- press clips from papers and news websites all over the country praising Lantos' achievements as a congressman.
As I opened them, the dull sadness became a little more pronounced. I had missed out on knowing someone really great.
When I say "really great," I don't mean it lightly or superficially, I mean it literally.
Tom Lantos was Hungarian by birth. He was a young teenager when World War II broke out, and because he was Jewish, life for him, subsequently, became very difficult. He was sent to a forced labor camp north of Budapest, escaped, was sent back, and escaped again. The second time, he found a safe haven in a flat owned by Raoul Wallenberg. Lantos was designated the messenger and supply shopper because he had light hair and blue eyes, so he didn't look conspicuous out on the street.
Congressman Lantos died after a relatively short battle with esophageal cancer. I never met him during the days I was at the Capitol Building. Not that I expected to bump into him all the time anyway, because I am just a lowly intern, after all, a title which is lower than dirt in the Hill's complex pecking order.
But when I heard on Monday morning that he had passed away, I was first shocked (I didn't know that his health had deteriorated so rapidly) and then began to feel a kind of dull sadness -- not so strong that I couldn't go about my day, but strong enough to be noticeable.
My sadness, I think, came from the new realization that I would never have the opportunity to shake his hand, answer the requisite questions of where I'm from, what I'm majoring in, and how I'm liking my internship.
I was sad not for having known him, but for having not known him, if that makes sense.
When I got to work the next morning (I'm there Tuesdays and Thursdays), the office was understandably a little subdued.
My inbox was flooded with e-mails -- press clips from papers and news websites all over the country praising Lantos' achievements as a congressman.
As I opened them, the dull sadness became a little more pronounced. I had missed out on knowing someone really great.
When I say "really great," I don't mean it lightly or superficially, I mean it literally.
Tom Lantos was Hungarian by birth. He was a young teenager when World War II broke out, and because he was Jewish, life for him, subsequently, became very difficult. He was sent to a forced labor camp north of Budapest, escaped, was sent back, and escaped again. The second time, he found a safe haven in a flat owned by Raoul Wallenberg. Lantos was designated the messenger and supply shopper because he had light hair and blue eyes, so he didn't look conspicuous out on the street.
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Joe Nykodym
posted 2/19/08 @ 8:48 PM EST
I met Tom Lantos in December, 1987, when I too was a young Capitol Hill intern, looking for a job. A month later (after wearing out the welcome of a friend of a friend who agreed to let me crash on this couch) I was hired for what I thought would be a brief assignment. (Continued…)
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