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pause. “I know. I know you’re not..
    Another pause. “Absolutely. You’re absolutely right. But you have to see it from her side, too. She loves you. And she’s concerned about you ...
    “Well, maybe that’s what you need to tell her. But try to remember to listen, too, okay? ...
    “Yes, okay. Now, let’s get back to business. Did you get the materials I sent you for the civics project? ...
    “Good. See what you can do with all of that, and if you have any questions, give me a call. Okay? ...
    “Okay, I will. I have to go to a meeting now. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? And take it easy on your mom....
    “Okay. Goodbye now, dear.”
    Sturmer replaced the receiver in its cradle. She exhaled sharply and smiled at the aide as she replaced the bulky gold earring that she had removed while talking on the phone. “Whooof!” she said. “I’m sorry about that, but some things take priority.
    “Come, let’s get to the meeting. You can brief me on the way.”
    The Honorable Charlene Sturmer had come of age in the mid-1960s. Like so many of her contemporaries, she had felt a burning desire to change what was wrong with American society. Yet, unlike so many of her contemporaries, she didn’t see the point in trying to tear down the institutions of the Establishment. Instead, she believed that she could have a much greater impact in the long run by lending her efforts toward preserving the things that did work and improving the things that didn’t. Instead of trying to break down the walls from the outside, she imagined that it would be easier to try to change things from the inside.
    However, she soon learned that before she could work from the inside, she’d first have to get through the door. And getting through the door proved to be anything but easy. These were the days before the women’s movement and sex discrimination suits. In government circles—and too many others—women still were seen as little more than potential secretaries and decorations. She worked her butt off for months, going door to door to campaign personally for a seat on the local city council. And even after she landed the seat, she found her opinions ignored by a chauvinistic, patronizing mayor. Once, he’d gone so far as to respond to Sturmer’s revolutionary plan for streamlining the entire city budget by literally patting her on the head.
    Despite it all, though, Charlene Sturmer hadn’t been raised to be a quitter. She worked long and hard for years, doing her level best to fight for the people she represented.
    Her big break came when she was offered a shot at running for lieutenant governor under Governor Zachary Yale—the first time a woman would be running for the office. Sturmer had no illusions about the reason why the higher-ups in the party had picked her; from their perspective, it was a political move, motivated by a desire to capture the female vote.
    But whatever motives anyone else might have had, Yale didn’t care about Sturmer’s gender. He studied her record and was impressed by what he saw. If she was willing to work, then he was willing to listen. At first, Sturmer smiled and nodded, shrugging his words off as typical political rhetoric. Soon, though, she came to realize that he meant every word of it.
    Under Yale’s tutelage, Sturmer blossomed. She’d already read all the books, and learned the rules and regulations. But with Yale as her mentor, she soon learned how to negotiate the unwritten rules as well.
    It took years of sweat and toil, but little by little, Sturmer fought her way up the ladder to make a name for herself. And now, here she was, thirty-five years later, on Capitol Hill. She’d grown into an accomplished legislator and a valued member of the House Ways and Means Committee, a driving force in determining exactly how the United States government spent its money each year. Sturmer’s dogged determination and commitment to her principles had won her the respect of even those colleagues who