that time in Cannon House
Last week my grandmother was invited to go to the State of the Union address by a congresswoman in Arizona. It's so interesting to be in and around the people running the government, especially when it seems straight out of VEEP or House of Cards. They were literally trying to put a pin on a magnet so as not to puncture the congresswoman's clothes as she apparently does not like pins. Hey, I don't like holes in my clothes either, but the way in which it happened could not have been scripted better. There's more strangeness still sinking in, but the point is--life and people are strange. And that strangeness is funny.
It was an honor for my grandmother to be acknowledged for the work she has done for Veterans and everyone was very nice to us. My sister and I got to watch the event at a wine bar down the street and play bingo. Though I wish more things had been crossed out, at least some things were said. And it really is in our hands to create change. How, I'm still trying to figure out, but we will.
The strangest part was when my grandmother told a bunch of staff assistants a story about me as a child. Apparently I was about four, it was the Easter Egg Roll, I had met the Vice President but kept asking for the President and was very disappointed that I could not meet him. Everyone laughed at the cute story, how adamant I was and how much attention I demanded, and all I could think was: What was wrong with me? Why was I so annoying? Why didn't I meet the President? What ever happened to that Easter egg?
My dad always tells me how I used to do the wave on the mall. Like literally run around the mall and try and get other people to do the wave with me. I guess I haven't changed all that much.
And so--people do strange, annoying things and we still love them. Sometimes we vote and follow them. Sometimes we keep believing in them even when they just aren't quite doing enough. In light of the fact that we are all human, I guess the State of the Union was alright. Nothing terribly shocking, some of the unexpected, like the apolitical standing ovation, lots of sneers from the sidelines, and some great delivery, packaged hope and more rhetoric for us to trudge through. Like snow, it will melt and everyone will start slipping and sliding over it, or simply forget about it. I think I felt hopeful, but I also felt a bit like I was forced to enjoy something that was slowly, silently killing me. Rhetorically speaking, of course.
Anyone wanna start on a new constitution?