Wellstone was in love with job

I didn't hear of the late-morning plane crash that killed Sen. Paul Wellstone until almost dinnertime on that gray Friday. Home at last after an endless afternoon of errands, my partner, Bruce, and I sat in stunned silence in front of the TV, cognizant of the campaign sign we had put on the lawn only a few hours earlier.
The next morning Bruce tore up one of his two dress shirts, a black button-up he liked to wear to art openings. He made a mourning strip to tie over our campaign sign.
It was a solemn, public gesture from a very private person, and it crystallized for me the depth of feeling so many of us had for Wellstone. Political allies and foes alike have described Wellstone as noble and impassioned, as a fighter, a peacemaker and a spokesman for the little person. Many have noted his adherence to patriotic principles and his love for the democratic process.
He championed a lot of people and causes. With such a diverse record, it's easy to forget that he also defended the American worker by opposing trade bills, supporting labor and applying a healthy skepticism to the news of big corporate mergers. Even his fight for mental-health care was a fight for workers, given that so many people enroll in health services through their employers.
Labors of love
Wellstone not only fought for the American worker, but he also modeled a way of working. With his passing, we grieve the loss of a unique, gregarious, caring person who was doing exactly what he wanted to be doing with his life.
Wellstone seemed to love all aspects of his work -- from writing legislation to meeting constituents to speechifying on the Senate floor. Every day was a challenge he rose to meet, despite chronic back pain, a diagnosis of multiple sclerosis and the knowledge that he was being made fun of on a daily basis by columnists and talk-radio hosts. How many of us can say we have persevered at a job under similar circumstances -- and for 12 years?
Senators rarely travel alone, and Wellstone didn't die alone. Seven others were killed in the crash, all of them engaged in work they loved. Twenty-three-year-old Will McLaughlin, the campaign staffer who put college on hold to work for Wellstone, was said by a family friend to be "delighted with the job" despite its long hours.
Tom Lapic, a former seminarian and senior adviser to the senator, was described as extremely dedicated to Wellstone's campaign. His sister said, "That was his life. He totally believed in Wellstone." Mary McEvoy, the early-childhood researcher who loved the political process, dedicated her autumn to supporting Sheila Wellstone as she campaigned for her husband.
Family backers
Sheila Wellstone was herself a tireless worker, most notably as an advocate for battered women and their children. And the Wellstones' daughter, Marcia Markuson, was a much-loved high school Spanish teacher, happy to be on the campaign trail for her father.
The two pilots were described as ardently enthusiastic about their jobs. Richard Conry, who often ferried the Wellstones to their remote duties, was a veteran of 30 years in the air. His co-pilot, Michael Guess, was just beginning a career he had long dreamed of.
What to make of so many people, so deeply involved in their work, who died in its performance? Only this prayer: May each of us be so lucky. Although we all must sometimes take jobs for the money, may each of us at least once have the experience of loving our work enough to be defined by it, were we to die doing it.
Maybe it won't be your job that meets such criteria. If you are rearing children, or making art, or volunteering to teach immigrants to read, you may have found the thing you want to be remembered for. But if nothing in your life would make a fitting eulogy, you have to start now to change that.
As you read this after the elections, please, stay involved. Keep up with the issues, talk to your representatives and consider running for office yourself. People keep dying for this democracy; there must be something to it.
XAmy Lindgren, the owner of a career-consulting firm in St. Paul, Minn., can be reached at alindgren@pioneerpress.com.