I, along with much of the country, was glued to this morning’s festivities in Washington. It was a historic moment, one of those moments people will tell their grandchildren about. I voted for Obama, and I had very specific reasons for doing so. (Please remember, this is indeed my personal blog and thus these are my personal opinions.)
One thing I appreciate about having been able to do so much traveling when I was young is that it’s exciting to see events on television taking place on the very ground you’ve actually walked on.
This fall regular readers will remember that Ryan took Elsie and I on a tour of the Capitol, and so once again I got to look at the images and say, hey, I’ve been there!
And then I thought about what it must be like to actually be there. Obama seemed to stumble a bit on the oath. Can you blame him? Anyone’s nerves would be a little on edge. I watched as the Obamas walked the Bush family to Marine One. They stood on the steps of the Capitol, and I wondered what they must be saying to one another. Maybe Bush said, “Hey Barack, breakfast was great. Best of luck – say, here’s the keys to the house. I left an extra set under the planter on the back porch. Say, gotta run – I think that’s my ride.”
And then I thought, what if I could have the ear of the new President, even if only for a few minutes.
I think I would say this:
Mr. President, congratulations on such a memorable day. Few people in the world will ever know what it’s like to feel the way you must feel right now. I may not be much of a political pundit, but I believe you won this election because so many people felt you could understand them in a way they haven’t been understood in a long time. That’s why they’re shoulder to shoulder on the Mall.
They believed that you could understand what it is like to be an every-day worker and not a captain of industry. They believed that you would bring a perspective to the office of President that was a change – that was different.
As you settle in, the expectations of you are so high that no human being could possibly live up to them. Soon you’ll have people pulling at you from all directions with all sorts of agendas.
When that happens Mr. President, don’t forget people like me. Your candidacy has created many fruitful conversations about race in America and equality. I can’t help but notice that in discussions of equality, the disabled somehow seem to be left out. We’re the one group of people that for many, it’s still okay to discriminate against. Just take a look at our unemployment statistics.
Mr. President, don’t forget about people like me striving to contribute the most I can in a system that would tie one hand behind my back for the sake of keeping my health care.
Mr. President, don’t forget about people like me whose very lives depend on riding the bleeding edge of medical research – research that must be funded by your administration and the incoming Congress.
When you’re talking to the international bankers about the economy, and trying your best to resolve century-old problems around the world – people like me might be easy to forget. The sick and disabled tend not to have Washington think tanks and professional lobbyists working the halls of power every single day. We try, but we can’t match their fire power.
So, Mr. President, in the quiet of your office as you settle in, please, please, don’t forget us. We need you more than ever.
One thing I appreciate about having been able to do so much traveling when I was young is that it’s exciting to see events on television taking place on the very ground you’ve actually walked on.
This fall regular readers will remember that Ryan took Elsie and I on a tour of the Capitol, and so once again I got to look at the images and say, hey, I’ve been there!
And then I thought about what it must be like to actually be there. Obama seemed to stumble a bit on the oath. Can you blame him? Anyone’s nerves would be a little on edge. I watched as the Obamas walked the Bush family to Marine One. They stood on the steps of the Capitol, and I wondered what they must be saying to one another. Maybe Bush said, “Hey Barack, breakfast was great. Best of luck – say, here’s the keys to the house. I left an extra set under the planter on the back porch. Say, gotta run – I think that’s my ride.”
And then I thought, what if I could have the ear of the new President, even if only for a few minutes.
I think I would say this:
Mr. President, congratulations on such a memorable day. Few people in the world will ever know what it’s like to feel the way you must feel right now. I may not be much of a political pundit, but I believe you won this election because so many people felt you could understand them in a way they haven’t been understood in a long time. That’s why they’re shoulder to shoulder on the Mall.
They believed that you could understand what it is like to be an every-day worker and not a captain of industry. They believed that you would bring a perspective to the office of President that was a change – that was different.
As you settle in, the expectations of you are so high that no human being could possibly live up to them. Soon you’ll have people pulling at you from all directions with all sorts of agendas.
When that happens Mr. President, don’t forget people like me. Your candidacy has created many fruitful conversations about race in America and equality. I can’t help but notice that in discussions of equality, the disabled somehow seem to be left out. We’re the one group of people that for many, it’s still okay to discriminate against. Just take a look at our unemployment statistics.
Mr. President, don’t forget about people like me striving to contribute the most I can in a system that would tie one hand behind my back for the sake of keeping my health care.
Mr. President, don’t forget about people like me whose very lives depend on riding the bleeding edge of medical research – research that must be funded by your administration and the incoming Congress.
When you’re talking to the international bankers about the economy, and trying your best to resolve century-old problems around the world – people like me might be easy to forget. The sick and disabled tend not to have Washington think tanks and professional lobbyists working the halls of power every single day. We try, but we can’t match their fire power.
So, Mr. President, in the quiet of your office as you settle in, please, please, don’t forget us. We need you more than ever.
Comments
I liked this post so much, I felt compelled to let you know. Written so well that I felt your emotion as you must have felt when you wrote it. You ought to send it off to President Obama.
>Ana<