Truman; Whomever; Obama

When I was but a wee tad (yes, one of those stories) we were let out of our grammar school class to go see some exotic creature named Harry S. Truman come through my home town on the caboose of a train. Frankly I was more interested in the caboose than this president-to-be but, shucks; we got out of school because of him so he must have been something special. The fact he was just a man-in-the-distance didn’t matter; it was pretty exciting stuff but, of course, I had no idea I was touched by a bit of political history; a tow-headed child (maybe he even picked me out of the crowd hair-wise) getting to see what became the famous “Whistle Stop Tour” in 1948 that probably blew him into office, derailing New York’s John Dewey in the process.

I remember being mighty impressed at the time and thought it hysterical that he mispronounced the name of my home town. But I was of that age when a lot of stuff struck me in the funny bone and it was a bright sunny day, too hot for politics probably, and even then I liked word play. I deliberately mispronounced the name myself for at least the next five years.

However, politics was never a focus again until I somehow slipped into voting age and wanted it to count so I started paying attention. From that time on I usually voted for the man who lost the election, Adlai Stephenson being my first (no, I never liked Ike). After the charismatic John F. Kennedy and his meteoric 1,000 days it seemed like outrageous mediocrity ruled the country and, therefore, the world and I didn’t like that so I pretty much just let things happen around me, I never “fought-the-man,” and my political savvy and accountability is mostly a blur for decades. Let me count the ways: Johnson, Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton and, then…I came out of my selfish doldrums to actively hate the man in office, that being Mr. George W Bush of course. Hated. Actively hated. I dreaded catching a glimpse of his smirk on television and stuck vegetables in my ears when his voice grated across my exposed nerves. It got pretty bad and I turned to wild living to assuage my unease. Well, actually not but I would have liked to give wild living a try if I had had the guts and the money.

My turn-around is now almost total. I really can’t believe my luck at this advanced age to be able to again take seriously the office of President of the United States. I know, I know, time will tell but the first 70 (or whatever) days have made me perk up like chocolate covered bacon. From the day Barack Obama took office I haven’t missed one of his speeches or his press conferences and I loved his schmooze with Letterman. He is a pleasure to watch and he gives me hope. Even just today, on the world stage in London after the historic “Group of 20” meeting, he floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee and I was enthralled. He’s the man for me and I hope he can see my tow-head bobbing in the crowd from the caboose of the juggernaut he’s riding. My home town is now Brooklyn. I’ll get hysterical, yet again, if he mispronounces it…and love him for it.