John Dingell did a lot of good in his time in the House of Representatives. He played integral roles in significant bills that have done a great deal for the people of the United States.
But it is hard to talk about his legacy right now without pointing out Dingell's relentless support of gun rights and the National Rifle Association. In 2014, when he announced his retirement, and in 2019, when he died, reflections on his political career recognized that Dingell, with six decades in Congress, had played an outsized role in the seeming intractability of the gun issue of the United States. It is to his wife's credit that she had challenged her husband's legacy in this regard, but in the wake of the Uvalde, Texas shooting just days ago, my feeling of generosity is limited.
It is also worth recognizing that Dingell's support of the auto industry has furthered the seeming intractability of the United States' dependence on fossil fuels.
Every political figure is a mix of the good and the bad; even the most admired and beloved have messy moments in their history that a full reckoning of their career must acknowledge.
As a political memoir, this book is intermittently successful. Occasionally it is illuminating, even inspiring. Occasionally it is frustrating, because there does seem to be that frustrating graduation eyes syndrome, reflecting on when everything was all hunky-dory and you could disagree without being disagreeable. Perhaps there is some validity to that, yet Dingell doesn't seem to fully recognize the anti-democratic trend that the Republican Party has demonstrated. Indeed, I question if this would have remained his perspective had he been alive for the 2020 election and its aftermath.
Dingell undoubtedly witnessed extraordinary history. His remembrances of everything from the declaration of war in 1941 to the signing of the Affordable Care Act in 2010 demonstrate the vastness of his experience, the moments and relationships he shared with history-makers of wide repute.
This book works best, though, as a loving tribute from a son to his father. Dingell clearly not just loved his father, but admired and respected him. There are moments that are incredibly touching as a 90-year-old man reflects on his deceased father, gone some 60 years now.
I have to admit that I was supportive of Debbie Dingell's primary challenger, Solomon Rajput, in the 2020 election; this was less out of animosity toward Dingell as opposed to my hopes that Rajput, a 28-year-old progressive Muslim medical student, would better represent my progressive mindset in Congress. Yet, reading this, and learning more of the Dingell family as a whole, I am impressed and grateful to them for their service.
I do hope, though, that a scholarly biography is written on Dingell, without personal bias and a wide-ranging view at his many successes and failures.