Floor SpeechBipartisan2026-01-15

SENATE PAGES

TaxesForeign PolicyTrade

Context

On 2026-01-15, Senator Cory A. Booker (D-NJ) delivered a floor speech titled "SENATE PAGES" in the Senate. The speech addressed taxes and also covered foreign policy, trade policy. It referenced legislation including S264, S268, S265.

Full Text

SENATE PAGES

Congressional Record, Volume 172 Issue 11 (Thursday, January 15, 2026) [Congressional Record Volume 172, Number 11 (Thursday, January 15, 2026)] [Senate] [Pages S264-S268] From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [ www.gpo.gov ] SENATE PAGES Mr. BOOKER. Mr. President, there is something extraordinary that happens when we are here in the Senate. Every cycle, we see numerous young people who come here to--one might call them indentured servants. They are the pages. I have come to have a lot of respect for Katie Britt, but my work with her every year in getting to know the pages--we have a little lunch--it is something I really treasure. Senator Britt could not be here now. The schedule--we were supposed to do this earlier in the afternoon. But I want the pages to know that I think she is pretty broken-hearted that she can't be on the floor right now. She and I together worked to judge the poetry competition. She was very disappointed that she could not be here to read the successful poems. But even more so, I think what she really wanted to do was to express her gratitude to this extraordinary group of young people who are assembled on the Senate floor before us. So what I want to do is in two parts, with the latitude of the Chair, I am going to talk about the poetry competition and then share some parting words with the pages. First, they are already annoying me--as they often do--because I cannot see you guys, all. So the pages who are sitting down and cannot eyeball me, please join the other pages who are standing so we can have a better look. I want to look into your eyes just in case my harsh words make any of you cry. That is much better. That is much better. Mr. President, we had a poetry competition. I want you to know this poetry competition was different than all the other poetry competitions we have had with pages. First of all, they were recalcitrant. Very few of them even participated, to begin. So we did something we never, ever did before. We extended the deadline, and then I bullied and badgered--I admit this on the Senate floor. I bullied and badgered some high school students into complying with the poetry competition, and we got a large number of poems, a large number of participation from the pages. I am proud, proud of your page participation that has lasted until today. Now, what I did not expect is for their poems to be so good. I was actually literally shocked. I look at you all, and I just don't expect greatness. But your poems were exceptional. I literally texted Senator Britt in agony. I was like, how do we decide on which poems to choose, because in past page classes--I hope they are listening out there in the world. They are just so top class. So it was very difficult. Katie and I went back and forth. We did a lot of consternation, and we came up with the winners. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that all the page poems be--I have never done this before--but all the page poems that were written this time--all of you that wrote poems should be printed in the Congressional Record with their names because I did not see names. They were all anonymous to me. I don't know which pages they were. I don't know if they were Republican or Democrat. I don't know if they were the pages that told me bad jokes or the pages that told me really bad jokes because there were really just two categories in this class. There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in the Record, as follows: by lilliana grinberg On the rostrum's step I take my place, Except my pins and shoes, in navy monochrome. From the chamber I move with an awestruck face Through marble halls, the nation's home. I carry notes through the aisles, Or on the rostrum I stay put. I learn that power walks in measured miles And history hums softly underfoot Long hours teach me how to stand so still, To remain unphased as voices rise and clash. In the chaos I feel a chill; This will be over in but a flash. Here is where I have served, and where I see The making of the world that is, and the world that ought to be. by lilliana grinberg ``Polarization at an all-time high,'' The newspapers report, day after day. My time here has shown me it's not a lie; I have seen it in every no and yea. This is no longer the way things will go, For our generation will pave the way. We are through waiting until tomorrow, This is our duty; we'll do it today. The Pages of fall twenty-twenty-five Discuss, argue, debate and disagree, Our voices echoing with every strive To from one another's perspective see. My fellow Pages across the aisle: Let our divide be only by miles. by lilliana grinberg It's a new day, here in the Capitol: Prayer and pledge and now hear the gavel. Under these gilded ceilings, then and now interweave; It's where we see what is, and what ought to be. Joking through the tired and laughing through the stress; Praying that each scramble will turn into success; Voting and speeches and printing amendments, Debates and objections and unanimous consensus. We leave this world made of marble and to Webster Hall we return; Where our bodies may rest, but our minds will still churn. We all have no clue what tomorrow will bring; Best and brightest, to this place we will cling. We will cling to the chamber, and the flag on its staff. We will cling to this group, every lesson and laugh. The Shoes of the Senate By Stephen Jiang Gliding across the tiled floors are a hundred pairs Of shoes like loafers and running kicks, we discern From our vantage, but hidden when C-SPAN airs Behold the resolute heels of Senator Blackburn! They've traveled here from Alabama's waterfalls Tracking dust from Jersey streets onto the blue rugs Long ago, Webster's boots echoed across these halls Stepping over many tobacco spittoon jugs. Do I belong here? Could I fill these sacred shoes? Those grand wooden doors swung open for you and me Step in, fear not the faces you've seen on the news When in doubt, we stay grounded on our own two feet We'll push ahead, one foot in front of another Across the aisle. . .there's a lot to discover. O Senate By Jace Miles Shall I compare thee to a session day? Divided it is and together they come, A place vibrant and unique in every way. Jacks of all trades but mastered by one. They call it antediluvian, Some say it is great. I will admit it is not arcadian, Because everyone goes to bed pretty late. To the parliamentarians, clerks, and Senator's prowess, To the Pages and doorkeepers whose faces beam. In the Senate no one engages in Churlishness, [[Page S265]] Because then they would break Rule XIX. The Senate has been living for centuries, Alive by following our framers' themes. By Hunter Coy Sun rises on the Capitol dome Suddenly I don't feel so far from home I drove 16 hours to be here Becoming a Senate page meant leaving everything I held dear. 30 strangers came together Little in common nothing to tether Finding comfort in each other My roommate soon became my brother. Each day our bonds were tested Crossing party lines that couldn't be bested Making memories on the Senate floor Forming bonds that last evermore. Becoming a Senate page was never a safe bet Looking at these strangers, I'm so glad we met. The Page's Pledge (and Other Senate Confessions) BY MAUREEN BAI I pledge allegiance to the flag, And to the republic--it's important, not a drag For which it stands, through late-night votes, And endless runs to S-123, boy I sure do mope. Senator Booker, oh so cool, You speak and legislate like you're getting A's in school. Senator Britt, you carried 66 out of 67 counties, clearly many favored you to be strong While we pages sprint through halls, trying not to get in trouble with no bond Late nights are long, senators congregate like they're in frats While the Parliamentarian and Journal Clerk chat. And before you I stand, in my shoes, Dodging my cloakrooms' ``urgent'' news. I may not be Goldilocks, but through your heated debates I keep your water and lectern coming--always just right. BY EMMA ROSS I came from quiet roads and open air, Where every sunset felt like it knew me. But here, the marble glitters cold and bare, And I feel lost in all this history. These crowded halls move faster than my breath, Each rushing step reminding me I'm new; Some days my confidence feels close to death, And I miss skies my hometown once let through I smile, I learn, I try to stand up tall, But still my heart aches for familiar ground. A porchlight glow, a voice I knew to call, A place where I was seen, not just around. Yet though I ache, I stay, because I know Great dreams are born from seeds we bravely sow BY EMMA ROSS I dreamed of shaping laws before I came, A distant vision held in hopeful hands; But here, where marble echoes history name, My quiet wish grows fierce with each command. These halls hum with decisions yet to be, With voices crafting futures line by line; And as I watch, a fire awakens me, A calling clearer now than any sign. To serve, to lead, to stand where choices rise, To guide the course that others will pursue. The page life opens my eager eyes, Revealing paths I once but faintly knew. What once was dream now feels like destiny, This place, this work, shapes who I'm meant to be. BY EMMA ROSS Each dawn I cross beneath the domed white light, Its columns towering like a nations pride; And every step still fills me with delight, As if I walk where history resides, I watch the chambers stir before debate. Hear quiet murmurs blossom into law; The smallest motions shape a whole state's fate, And I, a page, stand humbled by the awe. The shuffle of the papers, pens, and plans, The whispered deals that ripple through the floor. I glimpse the power held in human hands, The careful craft of those who came before. In every vote, in every echoed call, I learn how fragile dreams can guide us all. By Lilliana Grinberg Patterns cover the Senate floor: The carpets, the ceilings, the frames of each

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SENATE PAGES Congressional Record, Volume 172 Issue 11 (Thursday, January 15, 2026) [Congressional Record Volume 172, Number 11 (Thursday, January 15, 2026)] [Senate] [Pages S264-S268] From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [ www.gpo.gov ] SENATE PAGES Mr. BOOKER. Mr. President, there is something extraordinary that happens when we are here in the Senate. Every cycle, we see numerous young people who come here to--one might call them indentured servants. They are the pages. I have come to have a lot of respect for Katie Britt, but my work with her every year in getting to know the pages--we have a little lunch--it is something I really treasure. Senator Britt could not be here now. The schedule--we were supposed to do this earlier in the afternoon. But I want the pages to know that I think she is pretty broken-hearted that she can't be on the floor right now. She and I together worked to judge the poetry competition. She was very disappointed that she could not be here to read the successful poems. But even more so, I think what she really wanted to do was to express her gratitude to this extraordinary group of young people who are assembled on the Senate floor before us. So what I want to do is in two parts, with the latitude of the Chair, I am going to talk about the poetry competition and then share some parting words with the pages. First, they are already annoying me--as they often do--because I cannot see you guys, all. So the pages who are sitting down and cannot eyeball me, please join the other pages who are standing so we can have a better look. I want to look into your eyes just in case my harsh words make any of you cry. That is much better. That is much better. Mr. President, we had a poetry competition. I want you to know this poetry competition was different than all the other poetry competitions we have had with pages. First of all, they were recalcitrant. Very few of them even participated, to begin. So we did something we never, ever did before. We extended the deadline, and then I bullied and badgered--I admit this on the Senate floor. I bullied and badgered some high school students into complying with the poetry competition, and we got a large number of poems, a large number of participation from the pages. I am proud, proud of your page participation that has lasted until today. Now, what I did not expect is for their poems to be so good. I was actually literally shocked. I look at you all, and I just don't expect greatness. But your poems were exceptional. I literally texted Senator Britt in agony. I was like, how do we decide on which poems to choose, because in past page classes--I hope they are listening out there in the world. They are just so top class. So it was very difficult. Katie and I went back and forth. We did a lot of consternation, and we came up with the winners. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that all the page poems be--I have never done this before--but all the page poems that were written this time--all of you that wrote poems should be printed in the Congressional Record with their names because I did not see names. They were all anonymous to me. I don't know which pages they were. I don't know if they were Republican or Democrat. I don't know if they were the pages that told me bad jokes or the pages that told me really bad jokes because there were really just two categories in this class. There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in the Record, as follows: by lilliana grinberg On the rostrum's step I take my place, Except my pins and shoes, in navy monochrome. From the chamber I move with an awestruck face Through marble halls, the nation's home. I carry notes through the aisles, Or on the rostrum I stay put. I learn that power walks in measured miles And history hums softly underfoot Long hours teach me how to stand so still, To remain unphased as voices rise and clash. In the chaos I feel a chill; This will be over in but a flash. Here is where I have served, and where I see The making of the world that is, and the world that ought to be. by lilliana grinberg ``Polarization at an all-time high,'' The newspapers report, day after day. My time here has shown me it's not a lie; I have seen it in every no and yea. This is no longer the way things will go, For our generation will pave the way. We are through waiting until tomorrow, This is our duty; we'll do it today. The Pages of fall twenty-twenty-five Discuss, argue, debate and disagree, Our voices echoing with every strive To from one another's perspective see. My fellow Pages across the aisle: Let our divide be only by miles. by lilliana grinberg It's a new day, here in the Capitol: Prayer and pledge and now hear the gavel. Under these gilded ceilings, then and now interweave; It's where we see what is, and what ought to be. Joking through the tired and laughing through the stress; Praying that each scramble will turn into success; Voting and speeches and printing amendments, Debates and objections and unanimous consensus. We leave this world made of marble and to Webster Hall we return; Where our bodies may rest, but our minds will still churn. We all have no clue what tomorrow will bring; Best and brightest, to this place we will cling. We will cling to the chamber, and the flag on its staff. We will cling to this group, every lesson and laugh. The Shoes of the Senate By Stephen Jiang Gliding across the tiled floors are a hundred pairs Of shoes like loafers and running kicks, we discern From our vantage, but hidden when C-SPAN airs Behold the resolute heels of Senator Blackburn! They've traveled here from Alabama's waterfalls Tracking dust from Jersey streets onto the blue rugs Long ago, Webster's boots echoed across these halls Stepping over many tobacco spittoon jugs. Do I belong here? Could I fill these sacred shoes? Those grand wooden doors swung open for you and me Step in, fear not the faces you've seen on the news When in doubt, we stay grounded on our own two feet We'll push ahead, one foot in front of another Across the aisle. . .there's a lot to discover. O Senate By Jace Miles Shall I compare thee to a session day? Divided it is and together they come, A place vibrant and unique in every way. Jacks of all trades but mastered by one. They call it antediluvian, Some say it is great. I will admit it is not arcadian, Because everyone goes to bed pretty late. To the parliamentarians, clerks, and Senator's prowess, To the Pages and doorkeepers whose faces beam. In the Senate no one engages in Churlishness, [[Page S265]] Because then they would break Rule XIX. The Senate has been living for centuries, Alive by following our framers' themes. By Hunter Coy Sun rises on the Capitol dome Suddenly I don't feel so far from home I drove 16 hours to be here Becoming a Senate page meant leaving everything I held dear. 30 strangers came together Little in common nothing to tether Finding comfort in each other My roommate soon became my brother. Each day our bonds were tested Crossing party lines that couldn't be bested Making memories on the Senate floor Forming bonds that last evermore. Becoming a Senate page was never a safe bet Looking at these strangers, I'm so glad we met. The Page's Pledge (and Other Senate Confessions) BY MAUREEN BAI I pledge allegiance to the flag, And to the republic--it's important, not a drag For which it stands, through late-night votes, And endless runs to S-123, boy I sure do mope. Senator Booker, oh so cool, You speak and legislate like you're getting A's in school. Senator Britt, you carried 66 out of 67 counties, clearly many favored you to be strong While we pages sprint through halls, trying not to get in trouble with no bond Late nights are long, senators congregate like they're in frats While the Parliamentarian and Journal Clerk chat. And before you I stand, in my shoes, Dodging my cloakrooms' ``urgent'' news. I may not be Goldilocks, but through your heated debates I keep your water and lectern coming--always just right. BY EMMA ROSS I came from quiet roads and open air, Where every sunset felt like it knew me. But here, the marble glitters cold and bare, And I feel lost in all this history. These crowded halls move faster than my breath, Each rushing step reminding me I'm new; Some days my confidence feels close to death, And I miss skies my hometown once let through I smile, I learn, I try to stand up tall, But still my heart aches for familiar ground. A porchlight glow, a voice I knew to call, A place where I was seen, not just around. Yet though I ache, I stay, because I know Great dreams are born from seeds we bravely sow BY EMMA ROSS I dreamed of shaping laws before I came, A distant vision held in hopeful hands; But here, where marble echoes history name, My quiet wish grows fierce with each command. These halls hum with decisions yet to be, With voices crafting futures line by line; And as I watch, a fire awakens me, A calling clearer now than any sign. To serve, to lead, to stand where choices rise, To guide the course that others will pursue. The page life opens my eager eyes, Revealing paths I once but faintly knew. What once was dream now feels like destiny, This place, this work, shapes who I'm meant to be. BY EMMA ROSS Each dawn I cross beneath the domed white light, Its columns towering like a nations pride; And every step still fills me with delight, As if I walk where history resides, I watch the chambers stir before debate. Hear quiet murmurs blossom into law; The smallest motions shape a whole state's fate, And I, a page, stand humbled by the awe. The shuffle of the papers, pens, and plans, The whispered deals that ripple through the floor. I glimpse the power held in human hands, The careful craft of those who came before. In every vote, in every echoed call, I learn how fragile dreams can guide us all. By Lilliana Grinberg Patterns cover the Senate floor: The carpets, the ceilings, the frames of each