近距离内射合集

LAS CRUCES 鈥� Nella Domenici has given plenty of speeches.

She spent much of 2024 crisscrossing New Mexico, introducing herself and reminding voters she was the daughter of former U.S. Sen. Pete Domenici, one of the most consequential political figures in the state's history.

But she was asking voters to judge her on her own merits 鈥� and send her to the U.S. Senate.

Since losing that race to Democratic Sen. Martin Heinrich, Domenici has largely stayed out of New Mexico's political spotlight.

That made last week in Las Cruces different.

In one of her most prominent public appearances in New Mexico since the campaign, Domenici wasn't there to ask anyone for a vote.

She was there to talk about her dad.

And about the Domenici Public Policy Conference that, after an eight-year absence, had finally come back. 

鈥淚 give speeches all the time, and I was never afraid that I would start crying,鈥� she told the audience. 鈥淏ut today I am.鈥�

Her mother couldn't be there.

Nancy Domenici is 92 now, and her daughter said the trip to Las Cruces was simply too much. But she wanted Nella there 鈥� and sent her with a message for the people who had gathered to remember her husband and preserve what he stood for.

Pete Domenici represented New Mexico in the U.S. Senate for 36 years. After leaving Washington, Nella said, the Domenici Public Policy Conference became something of a second professional life for him 鈥� a place where leaders could confront difficult issues and, most importantly, listen to one another.

He died Sept. 13, 2017, on the very day that year's conference was scheduled to begin.

His daughter still sees something almost spiritual in that timing.

The conference continued in 2018, then disappeared. Eight years passed before it returned this week to Las Cruces.

For the Domenici family, its revival means something beyond another conference on a university calendar.

鈥淲e are profoundly, profoundly grateful,鈥� Nella told the crowd.

Buildings can carry a man's name. Archives can preserve his papers.

But Nella came to Las Cruces to make the case that preserving Pete Domenici's legacy requires something more.

鈥淟iving legacies preserve values,鈥� she said. 鈥淎nd values only endure when each generation chooses to live them.鈥�

She described those values: Find the brightest people you can. Give young people a voice. Put New Mexico at the table when the country tackles its biggest problems.

And never surrender the idea of respectful, bipartisan problem-solving.

Then Nella delivered the story her mother had specifically asked her to tell.

One of the Domenicis' daughters, Clare, struggled with serious mental illness. At the time, insurance coverage for mental health treatment was woefully inadequate.

Pete and Nancy Domenici decided that was unacceptable.

Domenici, a Republican, joined Democrats, including Sen. Edward Kennedy of Massachusetts, in the long fight for mental health parity 鈥� the principle that insurance coverage for mental illness should be comparable to coverage for physical illness.

It took years.

Mental illness carried an even greater stigma then than it does today. It wasn't an easy subject for a politician to discuss publicly, much less make personal.

But they kept at it.

The federal Mental Health Parity and Addiction Equity Act became law in 2008.

Then came the part of her mother's story that brought Nella closest to tears.

Shortly before Kennedy died, he made one final phone call to his old Republican partner in that fight.

鈥淧ete, we did it.鈥�

For Nancy Domenici, that call represented more than a legislative accomplishment. It was the culmination of a deeply personal struggle that her husband had turned into public service.

And it was the story she wanted the people in Las Cruces to hear.

There is something fitting about her daughter being the one to tell it now.

Nella knows a famous last name can be both an inheritance and an expectation. In 2024, she tried to extend the Domenici family's political history by winning a seat in the institution where her father served for more than three decades.

The voters chose Heinrich instead.

And afterward, she largely stepped away from the public stage.

But her appearance offered a reminder that elections aren't the only way a legacy gets passed from one generation to another.

Nella recalled people approaching her in Washington with remarkably similar stories. They had been interns or junior staffers when the powerful New Mexico senator stopped to talk to them, invited them into a meeting or asked what they thought.

He made them feel as though their voices mattered.

That was part of Pete Domenici's legacy, too.

After eight years without the conference that bears his name, its return matters because of what his daughter told the audience Wednesday.

Buildings preserve names. Archives preserve history.

But values survive only if somebody decides they're still worth practicing.

Nancy Domenici couldn't make the trip to Las Cruces.

So she sent her daughter.

And Nella Domenici delivered the message.

James Bennett is managing editor of the Journal. Contact him at jbennett@abqjournal.com.

U.S. Sen. Pete Domenici鈥檚 daughter, Clare, suffered from mental illness. An earlier version of this story incorrectly identified the family member.