At age 43, Bill Paxon appeared to be one of the youngest and fastest-rising politicians in Congress since Al Gore '69.

Then, in a surprising twist, Paxon announced last week that he would retire from the House of Representatives after his term expires this year. Flanked by wife Susan Molinari and their daughter Susan Ruby, Paxon claimed that he would "never run for office again," pointing to a commitment to family as his main reason for stepping down.

Scenes from the whirlwind of press conferences that Paxon held to announce his retirement were somewhat surreal. Was it simply coincidence that Paxon chose Ash Wednesday to announce his retirement, or were the penitent ashes that graced Paxon's forehead symbolic of something greater?

Amidst heavy speculation from the media that his retirement was just another clever political maneuver, Paxon has stood firm in his decision to leave office. After a Buffalo reporter questioned whether there was some ulterior motive behind his retirement, Paxon quickly responded that he was done having to justify his life, which earned him a hearty round of applause from the assembled crowd.

A bit of grandstanding? Perhaps. From the heart? Maybe. But whether his drive has dissipated permanently or not, for over 20 years Paxon has felt a compulsion to justify his existence through political achievement.

Everything in Paxon's history suggested that he would be a career politician. The son of a judge and a party activist, he was born and raised to take pride in his Republican heritage and his upstate New York State roots. Straight out of Canisius College in Buffalo in 1977, Paxon was elected to the Erie Country State Legislature at the tender age of 23. He quickly rose through the ranks of state politics, and in 1988 he won the seat of Jack Kemp, who ran unsuccessfully for President that year.

In the 90s Paxon has taken his ambition to the national level. In 1994, he worked closely with Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich to realize the historic Republican takeover of the House. But last year, in perhaps Paxon's most eventful year, he seemed poised to challenge both Gingrich and Majority Leader Dick Armey for their positions. While Paxon's most recent connivances have come to no avail, he has somehow emerged from the controversy with a surprisingly positive public image.

There have been skeptics, however. As one Armey backer said of Paxon in The Washington Post, "He's a guy who would lie to your face and stab you in the back. We're going to miss him." But with the focus suddenly turned from Paxon's recent display of political ambition to his sudden rededication to family values, much of the media attention Paxon has received has been favorable, and he was heartily applauded last week by many of his colleagues for his decade of service in Congress.

While Paxon has enjoyed resounding support in upstate New York, he hasn't always been as supportive in return. A recent article in The New York Times noted Paxon's repeated failures to win battles for New York State interests, suggesting that more often than not Paxon's lack of success was caused by a simple lack of effort.

Nevertheless, Paxon's retirement from Congress was a disappointment for the news media in Rochester and Buffalo, the two largest cities in Paxon's district. Major newspapers in both markets bemoaned the loss of potential exposure and economic benefit the region could have enjoyed if Paxon were eventually able to assume the House speakership.

In fact, Paxon's decision to step down now reveals a fundamental self-interest that exists at the expense of his own home state. If time proves that this self-interest is motivated solely by a concern for family, as Paxon claims, then he deserves credit for a degree of integrity that often seemed to be lacking during his political career.

But as one of his constituents, I can't avoid the sinking feeling that Paxon is biding his time, jockeying for something much bigger. This may involve a renewed political alliance with Gingrich, perhaps as his vice-presidential running mate in 2000. It may involve an attempt to succeed the equally ambitious George Pataki as Governor of New York if Pataki also chooses to throw his hat in the Presidential ring. Or, in the longer run, it may involve Paxon's own bid for the Presidency.

Whatever the scenario, it seems to me that we haven't heard the last of Bill Paxon.

He has claimed that as a retired politician he will "quickly fade into oblivion," but he has made too much of a mark on Washington to disappear swiftly or quietly. With all the blood, sweat and tears Paxon has poured into his political future, one does not wonder if he stay away from Washington, but how long it will be before he returns.

Speaking of his time in the nation's capitol as in Congress, Paxon mentioned on Wednesday that "this place and this profession is like a narcotic," and later joked, "Do they give methadone for political withdrawal?"

No, Bill, they don't.

Jim M. Cocola is a history and literature concentrator in Winthrop House. His column appears on alternate Mondays.