The president of the United States drove by me today. He was or wasn't in one of these black armored suburbans. He was accompanied by many many large men with machine guns. (their windows were down so we could all see and fear them) I waited about an hour to see or not see him for about 15 seconds. Many watchers were disgruntled by the interruption of their schedules, others were clueless to the significance of the event, others disappointed by the entourage and still others, determined to make this into a soapbox. "I just wanna catch the bus," "no man should be this important," "now's the time to commit a crime, every cop in town's right here," "that's it?". As for me, I'd have waited eight hours for those fifteen seconds. I can't explain it. I'm sure it's mostly from being Rachel's daughter. But I loved it. Did I get chills? Of course. Did I get teary-eyed? Probably. Will I stop smiling about the old man, decked out in his old military uniform, complete with cap, waiting on the street next to me? I doubt it.
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