The Journey

I am discriminating. I can be hard to please. I am slow to trust, as years of failed promises have left me skeptical. I have to remind myself, sometimes, to see the light hiding behind the darker surface. I tend to set very high standards for those who would court my trust. I want answers, answers that make sense, and I do my homework.

The last two presidential elections were, for me, at best, painful, and, at worst, devastating. In my opinion, George W. Bush’s shortcomings are plain for anyone to see, and his cabinet, nothing less than dangerous. Sadly, the Democratic Party failed to offer up a reasonable alternative, and though I voted for the man I considered the one less dangerous, I did so half-heartedly, at best. My reticence, however, did nothing to appease my disappointment and embarrassment in our electorate.

The 2004 election was particularly hard to swallow. John Kerry was not an exciting, or even hopeful choice, but the alternative was unthinkable. Our country had been in free-fall for four years and every misstep I had ever imagined, combined with those no one could ever have foreseen, to create a recipe for disaster; and still, many eagerly vied for a place at the table.

I remember dark hours immediately following the election, and the utter hopelessness filling those days. I remember sleepless nights punctuated by tears of frustration, and I remember my decision. In the fall of 2004, after America spoke, I made the decision to disconnect. I turned off my television and changed my pre-sets. Top-forty radio, instead of National Public Radio, now fueled my commute. Novels replaced the newspaper at lunch, and a click to my homepage now revealed carefully crafted, voluminous lines of internet jokes, sent to me by my former mother-in-law. Life lessons, and the accompanying character traits, had taught me how to insulate; to protect.

As you might expect, I was slow to board, as our most current election geared up…

Rudy Giuliani, and his handling of one of the most traumatic events in American history, warranted a second look. Arrogance killed his candidacy, early on.

Mitt Romney showed promise. As a businessman, he had shown remarkable financial acumen, and even two years ago, as those in the know began to scrawl upon the wall, I could see the merits of that trait. Honor, though, and party loyalty prevailed, as he threw in the towel in order to increase the chances of his party rival.

And, then there were three…

In 2004, I pinned my hopes on one John McCain, still, at that time, a true maverick. Karl Rove had other plans. Most of us easily saw through the allegations of impropriety surrounding the ethnicity of McCain’s daughter, completely unaware of backroom negotiations which would ensure McCain’s exit, leaving Mr. Rove’s candidate alone on the Republican ticket. In my despair, I looked forward to 2008, when “Maverick” could ride, again.

The face was the same; the voice familiar. The rhetoric, however, markedly changed. Need had removed the teeth from his message, and the 2008 incarnation of John McCain in no way resembled the man I once admired. Desperately, I turned to the other side of the aisle…

A feminist at heart, I really wanted to support Hillary. Admittedly, her handling of her husband’s repeated infidelities had left a sour taste in my mouth, but it was her shrill rhetoric that provided a barrier I could not jump. I listened, eagerly, for meaningful words that would invoke confidence, or even hope, and heard, instead, the cry of a fish-monger’s wife. I was not unhappy to see the odds piling against her.

The very idea that a man named “Barack Hussien Obama” would entertain the notion of being elected president of a country wrought with fear labeled “Muslim”, struck me as ludicrous; and I said so, to anyone who would listen. But, as the months ticked by, and his opponents became less and less desirable, I was forced to take a second look.

During this time, a good friend smilingly presented me with an Obama bumper sticker. He didn’t insist; he offered, through a face bright with hope. Feeling bereft of alternative, I accepted the offering, placing it in my carry-all. It rode there, under a succession of lunches, for several weeks, until a bright Saturday morning several weeks ago.

I accompanies me, now, on my commute, as it rides my back right bumper, and, today, the sight of it inspires pride in our journey.

An Intangible Difference

“No other national election has evoked this kind of emotion.”
As a form of explanation, in the heat of the moment, during a discussion of politics, these words rose to the surface, and sat on my tongue, while I considered their veracity. My mind ticked through previous elections. Images grossly akin to Halloween masks, strolled across my mind’s eye; Reagan, Carter, Ford, Clinton, Bush I and II, and I realized I had felt passion for my candidate during each of these contests, as well. The words remain unsaid. And, still, I consider them…and have come believe the words to be true in an intangibly unsettling way.

In years past, my choice of candidate was usually accompanied by a sure feeling of being “right”. As I considered the men running for President, the decision was a simple one, based on my beliefs and life experience.

“Do you want what’s hiding behind curtain “A” or curtain “B”?” Monty Hall’s face leered under a battered fedora as he spun a shiny black cane.

“Curtain “A”!” My voice rang true with the force of my convictions.

“Is that your final answer?” The question came in the form of endless, expensively produced commercials touting the merits of the one not chosen.

“Yes! That is my final answer!” And it was.

This time around, when asked the question, I find my voice wavering as my eyes search a distant point in the room, and my chest fills with a need for hope. And, therein, lies the difference.

The need for hope; not a full-blown, fist-clenching, flag-waving hope, but a need for hope. A look out the yawning door of an airplane, just before the jump, with the sincere desire that the parachute will function when called upon. That first tentative, pitch-black step away from the side of the bed towards the spot on the carpet where the dog might be sleeping. The catch of breath, when the numbers are called, as the ticket shakes inside a needy hand. The look on the face of one beaten down, afraid to trust an outstretched hand.

As my octogenarian friend frequently laments, “I’ve never seen things this bad.”, I realize it’s no wonder so many of us are uncertain. Nothing in our life experience has prepared us for our current condition, and our beliefs have been challenged by almost a decade of half-truths and outright lies told by those in whom we were forced to rely. We are the ones beaten down, afraid to trust.

On Tuesday, I will stand in line for hours, with hundreds of others in search of hope, and the mere presence of the crowd, as I scan it, will invoke these words:

“In God We Trust.”

Watching….and Waiting

Steam from my bath still filled my pajamas as I prepared to reap my reward of curling up with a book in preparation for bed, when one of my more apolitical friends called to tell me to turn on CNN. It didn’t strike me, at first, the aberrance of her behavior, as she gushed excitedly about a report on the cost of making Sarah Palin a presentable Republican candidate, because as plasma filled the television screen I saw she was giving an interview, minus prepared remarks, and my attention became focused in hopes of witnessing, yet another, blunder.

Whereas her words were not particularly polished, neither were they foolish, as she stumbled through her efforts to give the appearance of answering a question, while directing as many barbs as possible at her running mate’s opposition. I became bored quickly when it became apparent she would say nothing I could use as fodder around the water-cooler next day. But, I didn’t change the channel, or turn off the set.

In my ennui, I noticed her appearance. Her perpetually carefully coiffed hair lacked it’s usual luster, as it hung below her shoulders in strands shaped by the length of her day. Dark eyes, known to sparkle and snap, appeared somewhat dull behind the glare on her designer glasses. Her voice was tired, and her posture strained.

I began to reflect on the many faces of Sarah Palin. Sarah Palin, wife, may have had an argument with her husband, just before sitting down for another, in a long line of interviews. Sarah Palin, mother of 4, and soon-to-be grandmother, may have just had to bandage a knee, or discuss a report card, or quiet the histrionics of her pregnant daughter, or settle an argument between siblings, or diaper her baby. She may have come from an appointment with her son’s doctor, and the news may not have been good. Sarah Palin, Governor of Alaska, may have had to deal with unhappy legislators, or worse, disgruntled constituents. She might have just flown cross country after attending a ribbon-cutting, or spent hours shuffling through official government documents requiring the governor’s signature. Sarah Palin, Vice-Presidential candidate, may have slogged through all of these things; a disagreement with her husband, fights between her children, insecurity in her daughter, dirty diapers, doctor’s appointments, complaining constituents, cross-country flights, and reams of paper, only to end her day in a cheap vinyl chair across from a news reporter asking impossible questions. Because Sarah Palin is all of these things; Wife, Mother, Governor, and, Vice-Presidential candidate.

And this is why we watch. This is why, at the end of a Presidential campaign that seems to gone have on forever, we still sit in front of our television sets, mouths agape, watching, and waiting.

As the interview ended, the anchor teased the following segment which was to detail the cost of making Sarah presentable, and, in a country whose primary source of entertainment is contained inside digital video recorders, we sat through commercials to watch an unprecedented piece. And it is unprecedented, because we, as a nation, have never been in this place before.

Kicking her gender aside, I wondered as I waited, why they hadn’t done the same kind of piece on Joe Biden, and then I remembered. Joe Biden has been presentable, and present, forever. I ticked through a list of others who might have been profiled, and realized that none actually qualified for this kind of attention. Given that, and the marketability of her gender, which was, after all, the motivating factor in her choice as a candidate, I feel the piece was fair.

I’m not bothered by the fact that Republican supporters footed a $4000.00 bill for her coiffure, or shuffled her off to Neiman Marcus with a blank check with which to purchase her form-fitting suits. Realistically, one could not expect them to trot out an Alaskan housewife/hockey mom-turned Governor without a little sprucing up. It is, after all, the American way, and “when in Rome….”

Pundits, and even John McCain, himself, have been quoted as saying Sarah Palin was brought on board to breathe new life into the Republican party. Some are even going so far as to say she is the “new face” of the Republican Party.

Pundits aside, I am convinced that Sarah Palin, wife, mother, Governor, and Vice-Presidential candidate, has breathed new life into a Presidential campaign that had already gone on too long before she became involved. And, regardless on what side of the aisle we sit, SHE is why we are still watching…

A Feminist’s Viewpoint on Palin

I’ve tried.

I’ve tried long, and hard.

When Hillary announced her candidacy, I tried.

I love Bill. And, I love him with full knowledge that the stage was already set for most of the gains he afforded us. I love him anyway.

I love him because he cared.

And, I love him because he tried.

And, I love him because he projected an image that most of the world could love along with me.

I love him because he is me.

So…Hillary announces.

I should say, at the forefront, that her handling of Bill’s promiscuity left me with a bad taste in my mouth. President or not, a philanderer is a philanderer, and should be handled as such.

That said, as Hillary announced, I realized the historic repercussions of her candidacy. A woman was running for President of the United States of America! The simple fact that she could do so, was testament to all those who came before her. It was historic! It was histrionic! It was catastrophic!

She was shrill. She was lame. And, most obviously, her husband could not bring himself to support her. Said simply, watching her upset me.

Turn now to our third (Lest you forget Geraldine!) female candidate, Sarah Palin.

I watched her acceptance speech, and as I watched, I became entranced. I listened, as did most Americans, to her tough talk, and her folksy phrases, and I smiled. The day after, I sang her praises to my Republican colleagues, and they smiled, knowingly, smugly.

And, then I read.

I read about the “Bridge to Nowhere”, and the funds that where allocated, elsewhere. I read about her daughter’s pregnancy, fed by Sarah’s unrealistic no-tolerance policy, and the young father, whose future, and theirs,will most certainly, be determined by his decision to forego education for income.

I watched interviews, in which she invoked kitchen window views, in an effort to explain foreign trade policies, and, yet, was unable to name the title of a book or a magazine.

I listened as she tried to tie an opponent to subversive activities which took place when he was eight years old, and as she promised to correct record deficits in a matter of days.

But, here’s what will surprise you…

As damning as all of the above is to a candidate’s ability to serve, it is her absence as a mother that disturbs me, most of all.

At the age of forty-four, Sarah Palin, Governor of Alaska, and staunch anti-abortion advocate, chose to have a baby with known genetic defects.

Now, a little over a year later, she has shirked her responsibility to that child, and the others born before him, for the sake of ambition.

Any, and all, scientific studies support the idea that parental involvement makes the difference for children with disabilities. Sarah Palin is shirking that, and in my opinion, her God-given responsibility to all of her children. Because disabilities, however severe, do not affect only the children carrying them, they affect us all.

She is female.

She is attractive.

She is a gifted speaker.

She is also a wife, and a mother; and those contracts were cemented many years ago….

As she struggles to answer the most inane questions, I am embarrassed; not just for her, but for us all!

This is the face we will put forward to the rest of the world! Sure, we can rely on good looks. But, for how long?

My father, a proud independent, accused me of being jealous. He pointed out her rise; Hockey Mom, PTA Mom, Governor of Alaska, Vice-President.He likened her experience to mine.

I’m a football Mom. I’m a PTA board member. But, I can promise you, before I run for a higher elected office, I will prepare. You will have your answers. I will not rely upon my stilettos, designer glasses, and form-fitting suits to win you. I will study, and not just for an upcoming debate…

Before I accept your nomination for vice-president, I will be sure that I have a handle on the issues; domestic and foreign.

But, first, and foremost, I will make sure that the contracts I have executed before…before…when I was nothing but a Hockey Mom, or a PTA Mom…Those contracts will be fulfilled, because, by doing that, and just that, I can be the best example I can be, and I will give back, and somebody will pay attention, and we will matter….