The Hannah Jones Rodham Factor

First of all, Kathy Callahan desperately needs an editor. The flagrant abuse of various punctuation marks and overall run-on style made her post on Daily Kos very painful to read. But that's beside the point.
The point is that she raised an issue which has been on my mind ever since reading Bernstein's Hillary bio. Hillary's by-all-accounts formidable grandmother was a profound influence on her life, in small part because of the direct contact they shared, but no doubt mostly because her equally formidable (and by most accounts disagreeable) father, who had been tyrannized and intimidated by Hannah Jones Rodham, passed on her way of thinking.
Growing up with Hugh Rodham, Hannah's son, meant doing what needed to be done, and getting away with what could be gotten away with, in conspiracy with Hillary's firm but infinitely supportive mother Dorothy. Their household, in a way, reminds me of the cast of "Death of a Salesman," with Hillary's two younger brothers as Biff and Happy. Hillary is the one who's not in the script, the one who got away, and found real, genuine success. But those instincts of getting along and getting away with are still a part of her, as is a trace, no doubt, of Hannah's authoritarianism, even without the Republican trappings. All you have to do is read the latest press to see the traces of each of those instincts.
Childhood is only a part of everyone's story, but it's a big clue to how the rest will unfold, to a lesser or greater extent, depending on who one joins forces with in adulthood. Hillary joined forces with William Jefferson "It depends on what the meaning of the word 'is' is" Clinton, God love him. And the rest has been history... theirs and ours.
As an American, I still love the Clintons, like one does a dysfunctional family, warts and all. I think Bill Clinton's presidency was one of the most successful in our history. But I'll be honest. If they don't do the right thing this time, for their party and the country, I don't think I could vote for one of them again.
That's not something I say glibly, but with a heavy heart. Whenever I hear that Fleetwood Mac song from the '93 inauguration, I feel like crying. But yesterday's gone.