We met Eric Ebersole, one of three Democratic State Delegates representing Maryland’s District 12 in the state’s bicameral legislature, at State Senator Guy Guzzone’s pizza party this past June. We both found we clicked with him immediately and liked him so much that we argued on the way back to our RV after Guzzone’s shindig about who he liked better: “Well, he laughed even harder when I said…Yeah, but, he went and got me another slice of pizza after I…oh, my god–you missed our exit!” In order to establish and maintain peace in our vehicular home, we decided to both pen articles on Mr. Heart and Ebersole.
Class Dismissed
Eric taught mathematics at several HoCo high schools–Wilde Lake, Reservoir, and Marriott’s Ridge–for a total of 35 years when he was elected to Maryland’s House of Delegates in November 2014. For his first legislative session as a delegate, he was teaching, too. His aptitude for legislative work and passion for the life of a local politico led him to retire from teaching, his first occupational love, soon after and devote himself full time to Delegate-ing.
Something he said during our conversation at Guzzone’s pizza party nagged at me, because it made me realize how little I know about what it takes to be a legislator. He used the term “legislative skills.” Later that night, I thought to myself, “Wait–Robert, what are the skills of a legislator?” I couldn’t say. Colleen had more to offer, but even when she said, “Maybe consensus-building..?” it felt too nebulous and generic to me. I wanted to know more, and so did Colleen, so we asked Eric to coffee.
How a Bill Becomes a Law
I remember that Schoolhouse Rock episode about the life cycle of a piece of legislation from bill to law from when my kids were growing up. It was confusing to me even then. What I understood from talking with Eric is that, while you can identify some steps in that process in a chronological, systematic fashion, the business of politics requires an amalgam of various aptitudes and expertise, any one of which you may or may not be called on to perform in the course of getting a piece of legislation passed into law.
“You have to make sure you’re not myopic, that you’re paying attention to all the different concerns in the community,” Eric said to start off our discussion on the skill set that makes for a successful legislator. Inherently, this includes being able to listen–to listen with the goal of understanding–to his constituents when they talk about what their needs are, particularly when those folks are speaking on behalf of a group whose needs aren’t immediately clear to him. It also includes getting the input of fellow delegates sitting on committees with him or who have valuable insight to offer. Eric said one of his first experiences with this was when he was asked to be on the Howard County Tourism Board. He met with small business owners to understand what was at stake for them when bills concerning hotels, restaurants, and other service-related fields came up.
Eric then glanced down to his side to look at a piece of paper on which I noticed he’d jotted down some notes. I’d rattled off some questions in an email the night before that Colleen and I wanted to ask him and sent them to him, so he’d know what we’d be talking about. I asked him if he’d taken notes on what he wanted to say in response. He said, “I did,” grinning bashfully, which he does a lot, without looking up from the paper. This was one of many habits he has, the note-taking, that he probably doesn’t realize or intend to make you feel important, but they do. Though he didn’t say this ability was one of those skills needed to be a good local politician, I imagined that it is.
It struck me as very scholastic, too, jotting down notes. And Eric too said his history as a teacher informed both his decision to enter politics and his career in it.
Howard County Democratic political activist Deeba Jafri, who knows Eric well, said Eric’s career in teaching was a big part of what was so special about him as a legislator. “He empathizes with us, with our lives. He gets it,” she had said to me at Guzzone’s pizza party back in June. She noted, too, that because Eric Part I took place in schools, where teachers must always be available to their students was part of why, perhaps, he was so accessible to his constituents. Colleen and I aren’t officially residents of HoCo, and yet here we were, hogging what would become three hours of Eric’s time.
“It was pointed out to us early on,” Eric said of his fellow first-term Delegates in 2015, ” that in order to get a bill passed in the House of Delegates, you have to get 71 people to vote for it. But that’s just the end-game. Before that you have to get House chairs and committee chairs on board, so you have to have credibility.” That credibility, Erc continued, comes from knowing what you’re talking about and proving that you can see a bill to fruition.
Simply stated, the overarching strength a legislator needs to have, then, is good interpersonal skills.
“What about ‘consensus-building?'” I asked Eric, taking a sip of coffee and looking in his greenish-brown eyes that were locked with my own (he really listens!).
As a member of the party that has the majority in the state legislature, Eric said, the variety, if you will, of consensus-building (yes, that is one of the talents required of a legislator) that he has to do most often is different than that which gets members of the other party to vote for a bill he’s working on. They’re subtly different.
“I can recognize, as I did this past primary season with every Democrat who ran, that we mostly had the same views on the environment, on education, on a whole host of issues. What it came down to was a matter of character–what would each person bring to the table,” he said. He noted that those same qualities that together are a person’s character, which manifest in as many different ways as there are people, are what he accesses most regularly in shoring up support for a bill.
“But I also often am called on to recognize members of the other party who have the skills of consensus-building, who’ll listen and learn, and also give me good feedback,” Eric said. This will come in to play during the 2019 legislative session for him, as he’s been tapped to be the chair of the House Finance Resources Sub-Committee, essentially gaming money. The people who understand where all that money is going aren’t all Democrats.
Later, we got to shooting the breeze as pals. Eric told me he’d been in three independent films and showed me the trailer for one. It was then that I was able to articulate something about him that had previously escaped me, and it came forth in a voice louder than I’d planned and with a little jump of my torso, also unforeseen: “You’re fearless!” I almost shouted. As a baby seated at the table next to us looked over and frowned briefly at us before perking up, we laughed. Eric’s inner warmth spreads across his face, often slowly, in a smile, and his eyes don’t so much come alive with joy but come even more alive with joy than they normally are.
Eric likely would have nuanced thoughts on his own experience of anxiety, trepidation, and the like, as everyone experiences those during the courses of their inner lives. But to me, a person like Eric, someone who has had two successful careers in disparate fields, who tries things like acting and being interviewed by a new couple of best friends for their website…well, to me that person’s functioning from a place of a wide-openness to life rather than protecting himself or his ego. Oh–he’s also the vocals in a band, Blues State, in which his wife, Tara plays the drums. We’ve met Tara when we stopped by the Ebersole family home to pick up some campaign literature in May. We assumed she’d be as lovely as him, but we weren’t quite prepared for the extent of the loveliness. In what section of RoCoInHoCo could we publish an article on her? we wondered as we “lit-dropped” later that evening.
I noted on my phone his band, Blues State’s, next show, which will be August 23rd at a Knights of Columbus local flood recovery benefit at 1010 Frederick Road in Catonsville.
And: You know you wanna read about our chat with Senator Guy Guzzone–so click here already!
Twists and Turn
Now it was my, Colleen’s, turn to have Eric all to myself and for Robert to spend time with Moses, our canine cutie. I got cozy in my chair across from Eric, whose chin was resting in the palm of his hand as he watched me get out my cell phone, notebook, a pen, and paper, smiling vaguely. I could tell he likes watching and understanding people, that the act of figuring out is who a person is is fun for him. Me, when I like someone off the bat, I want to just fast forward to when we’re good friends–and certainly in this case! Part of the Ebersolian Magic, as Robert and I call it, is that the getting-to-know-you is such a pleasure for Eric. And as Robert noted, it’s another way he makes you feel–to understand–that you’re important. This is just part of Eric’s genius.
Eric has salt and pepper hair, and delicately handsome features overall, but it’s his smile that really captures all his Heart and Ebersole, as Robert and I later decided to officially refer to that je ne sais quoi he has.
Another part of that same quality is that he truly wears his big heart on his sleeve, which that day was rolled up in response to the thick-as-gumbo late summer air of Maryland. I had a blast first dishing with Eric on all the things that only two people with multi-decade careers as educators can understand about each other’s experiences. I taught lower and then middle school language arts in the New York City Public School system for 36 years, one more than Eric had taught Mathematics. I lorded this fact over him happily. He leaned back in his chair in mock aggression when I boasted of the 365 days of experience I had over him.
Like me, our son Joshua is teaching Engish, in his case to college freshman while getting his Ph.D. in rhetoric and composition. And like him, Eric’s son, James, is studying numbers, getting his Master’s in Predictive Analysis and working in different capacities on local political campaigns. He was Eric’s campaign manager for the 2017 Gubernatorial Primary that he just won, qualifying the latter and the other members of his slate–Clarence Lam, Delegate Terri Hill, and Jessica Feldmark–to run as the Democrats for the offices of Senator and Delegates representing District 12 in the general election.
Eric had an obvious beach tan when we chatted, though his skin always has olive tones. I remembered from the pizza party back in June. That was early in the summer, before the sunlight took on that punishing, mid-Atlantic quality it has now.
“Eric, did you come back here from the beach just to meet with me–I mean, us?” He said yes, but that he’d also had another meeting that morning. I perked up at the “yes,” and then my face fell slightly at the “another meeting” part. Eric, of course, caught my change in expression and we both laughed, leaning into the center of the wooden table in the seating area at Whole Foods overlooking Lake Kittamaqundi.
Eric picked up with me where he’d left off with Robert, also in an attempt to understand what’s required of a legislator who gets things done as Eric is known in local political circles to do. He said the metaphor for “a day at the office” for him during the legislative session from January to April is an inner-tube ride down a river.
“You start the day off with some things on your schedule, and you know where you’re going to finish up at the end. But along the way, things come up–this constituent comes to your office to meet with you, committee meetings and sub-committee meetings get called or a committee chair pulls you aside to talk about a bill–”
“Rapids!” I shouted and just then we both noticed another local political friend, Roger Caplan, look over at us and wave.
Eric and I both laughed at “rapids” and continued to when he said, goofily drawing the “Os” in the charming, childlike way he has, “Yes, you don’t know what you might encounter along the way, you just have to hop in the inner tube and you have to gooooooo with the flooooooow–I hate to overdo the metaphor,” he said as we both broke into another fit of laughter.
“No, I like my metaphors overdone,” I said. I felt proud that I had made Ebersole laugh, then, because he’s so good at making others laugh. It’s one more thing he’s an expert at, in addition to teaching and legislating.
Later that evening in the car on the way back to our RV, now parked in Laurel after a couple weeks in Maple Lawn, Robert told me how he had put his finger on Eric’s functioning from a place of openness to life and all it has to offer, that fearlessness–and what it might have to offer. Robert and I really are more than the sum of our hearts and have a way of building off each other’s thoughts, because then I, again, still under Ebersole’s spell, shouted, “Yes, that’s why he wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s not afraid to be vulnerable. And it’s not because he’s incapable of being hurt or taken advantage of. It’s just that he’s emotionally evolved enough to know that you only grow if you put yourself in positions that allow for those things to be, at least, possible.
Local political activist Becca Niburg concurred with my estimation that Eric’s achieved a state of spiritual involvement that would make a Buddhist monk proud. He’s the opposite of self-aggrandizing or egotistical. Being good at self-promotion without being arrogant or unseemly isn’t easy to achieve, yet Eric manages to do it.
Back at Whole Foods, Eric said, “You need a spirit guide down there when you first start out in Annapolis, you really do.” There’s a two-day orientation, but with such a complicated job that involves constant input, feedback, and thinking on your feet, even I could tell that much of what you need to know for it can only be learned by doing it. That begins when a friend and guide shows you what to do. Eric’s personal “spirit guides” were Delegate Frank Turner, who retired after his most recent term, and his first Chief of Staff, Laura Bacon.
“They really showed me the ropes, and I’m so grateful to them,” Eric said earnestly, where you know there’s no pretense or duplicity. There’s just Eric, take it or leave it. And take my word for it, you’ll be a taker if you meet him in person.
That’s one of the things he said it takes to be a proactive citizen, which I shifted the conversation to, then: simply ask your local representative/s to coffee. In Ebersole’s case, I can say without even doubling back to confirm it with him, he’d meet with a resident of any district to talk. Robert and I are still citizens of New York, after all.
“The other thing you should do is go to events like you are,” he said, pointing at me with both index fingers. And then it occurred to me that part of the Heart and Ebersole is how much he gesticulates and how it makes everything seem more exciting and fun, as silly as that sounds. “Go to events, meet people, get to know who the people involved in local politics are and what the issues are that they’re talking about,” he added.
It’s Tearing Up My Heart
That’s a song my daughter, Rachel, introduced me to when she was 13 by *NSYNC, and I love it to this day. It started playing in my head when Eric and I talked about some issues he’s most passionate it about. One is rights of equity and inclusion for the LGBTQ+ community. I told him of my best friend from high school, Bruce, who was gay and committed suicide because he didn’t think his family–indeed, the world–would accept him.
I couldn’t look Eric in the eye when this came up. I still miss Bruce intensely. When I think about what could have been, I get choked up even today and did then. That’s why I looked away from Eric and out the window to our right.
When I looked back at him, I had to ask, “Eric…are you tearing up?” He just nodded. The momentary lull in our non-stop banter made me slightly uncomfortable, only because it was so much fun when it was happening. I had to look back out the window, this time because I was so moved by Eric’s willingness to be exposed and his related ability to empathize on a meaningful level with the struggles and stories of others.
“I’ve had somebody else say that about me, too,” Ebersole said when I noted that in little over an hour of conversation we’d both laughed to the point of doubling over and cried, also. “The person said I’m able to go from being very serious and passionate to going back and laughing for a little while, too…I don’t know what it is,” he said utterly unimpressed with the Heart and Ebersole, unlike me and Robert. I–we both–find it to be so remarkable.
When we got back to talking about LGBTQ+ rights, I noted that the number one predictor of whether a person is for or against LGBTQ+ equality is whether they know–or more accurately know that they know–a person who’s LGBTQ+.
“I just wish sometimes that it wouldn’t require knowing someone,” he said. “We could get so much further so much quicker.”
I noticed that Robert and Roger, the local political activist, were in a spirited conversation, all flailing limbs and inquisitive looks, standing near another table. I wondered where Moses was–in the RV I guessed, as Robert was obviously on his way back to meet me to go to a late lunch at Great Sage in Clarksville.
“By the way,” Eric said, in an instance of the switching mercurially from pensive to playful, “To answer the last question you and Robert sent me, I don’t have a favorite ice cream. I like donuts. And my favorites are the ones with chocolate icing. I have a rule, though.”
He said he always eats his chocolate-iced donuts with the icing side down. He asked me if I knew why barely holding back his own laughter. I started chuckling even as he told me.
“It just a waste if you eat it with the icing side up, because you don’t have taste buds on the roof of your mouth,” and we both erupted in laughter again. Robert and Roger looked unsurprised by our jollity. After all, you don’t have to be privy to whatever particular joke Ebersole’s made at any one time to know at least half the time you spend with him you’ll be in stitches. You need simply know of the Heart and Ebersole.
Thanks for reading! Check back with us each here at rocoinhoco.com every week as Robert, Colleen (and pup, Moses) get to know the many facets—one each week–of this prismatic place called Howard County. We want to take you along with us, so follow us on Twitter at @rocoinhoco, join our Facebook group, and follow us on Instagram at @rocoinhoco.