Mike Pence, my mother had a word for you

Mike Pence is the vice president of the United States of America.

My mother, Edna, is dead -- has been for nearly 10 years.

What, you might be asking yourself, do these thoughts have in common?

That's what I'm about to tell you.

My mother was a lifelong Republican, but she would have voted for Mike Pence anyway, because his last name isn't Clinton. That would have been a crucial factor in her vote-casting decision. She could not abide either Bill or Hillary. She had special names for each of them, but I'm not about to share them in this space -- not while you're slurping the milk from the bottom of your Cheerios bowl.

But Vice President Pence's boorish behavior at the Olympic Winter Games in South Korea would have been a sad test for Edna's Republican resolve. She would have smacked the nation's No. 2 for his display of insolence. You see, my mother believed the best way to handle folks you didn't like was to smother them with kindness. But sometimes a good wallop could do some good.

You know what? No matter how grumpy folks get when they are involved in international diplomacy, if my mother had been vice president she would have turned around in her seat in the VIP box at the Olympics and said hello to the sister of the North Korean despot. It would have been, for her, the Christian thing to do. And when would you ever have another opportunity like that to show the world that Americans are, if nothing else, a charitable and kind sort who have good manners and love for all humans no matter where on the globe they hail from?

Sure, my mother wouldn't have known anyone named Kim, but she didn't know any Albertsons until she moved to a farm near my favorite hometown in the Ozarks over yonder. That was back in 1950. And it turned out the Albertsons were just about the nicest people she ever met, and she cherished the friendship they shared all those years -- even though Mr. Albertson had sold my new step-father a "riding horse" that turned out to be blind in one eye and had never been saddle-broken. But friendship -- a real affinity for bringing out the best of everyone instead of the worst -- can overcome just about any situation, even if you're from North Korea.

My mother would have been livid, watching on the TV while a stone-faced vice president labored to ignore the woman sitting behind him at the games. And the whole world was watching.

Edna had a name for individuals who displayed this sort of behavior, and I'm going to tell you what it is:

Pissant.

My mother was not prone to using strong language. To her, "darn" was a curse word born of the Devil himself. So her willingness to call to someone a pissant would have been quite a stretch for her. But she would have done it.

But she can't do it, can she? She's dead.

Perhaps that's only a minor obstruction. She lives on in the memories of those who knew her. And those who knew her best would understand how upsetting and jarring it would be for her to watch a vice president -- a man whose distinguished career has led him to a position of power and influence outranked by only one other human being -- be such a ...

Well, a pissant.

I don't pretend to understand international diplomacy -- particularly these days when the strongest nation on earth says it wants other nations around the world to choose their own destinies, as long as those aims suit the aims of the United States.

That's like Henry Ford proclaiming to the world that you could buy one of his Model T's in any color you wanted, as long as it was black.

I wish my mother had lived long enough to sit down with the current vice president and have a heartfelt chat about basic decency and about doing what's best even when the official playbook counsels otherwise.

Mike, I hate to say it, but my mother was right. You're a pissant.

Joe Sullivan is the retired editor of the Southeast Missourian.