mi casa, su casa

Anecdote 1

We were at the mall. My hubby had to pee, so I pointed him in the right direction and went into a store to kill some time.

There was a tall man, posing as one of those- suit and tie door/store security. You know what I�m talking about. Those guys that usually have no real police training. Rather, they make the minimum wage to stand at a door way to look �intimidating� and oh so theft deterring. With quick reflection, it was also obvious he flipped a big part of the bill too. He was a minority. And not black or Hispanic this time, but Indian. (And that�s Indian from India, you non PC-er�s.) He�s also an older man. His late fifties, early sixties at the very least.

He watched me come in and I felt the stare continue as I checked the price on an over priced tacky shirt. And I felt him approach.

�What does that say? I couldn�t read�� in a heavy accent.

�I�m sorry?�

He points at my bag. Oh yes� my bag. I don�t own a car, I put cardboard backing on my two Kerry/Edwards bumper stickers, and craftily stuck, tape, glued, cut, sewed onto my bag. And then of course the badges and my honorary �collector�s pin were there too.
�
Oh!� I said. �John Kerry.�
�That�s what I thought. So what do you think?�

�I think he�s going to fight for us. Actually I know it. Because it doesn�t matter who you pray to or who I live with, he does not judge on these things. And that means more than anything.�

�Oh I know! You don�t have to tell me. I believe him. I believe him more than anyone else ever. He is good. And not just words, you know. But good. Oh yes! Then you are my friend indeed. You think for the good of the world. Yes, indeed, my good friend you are.'
(And with that a deep inhale.)
'So do you think he can win for us?�

�I hope with all my heart, it�s so.�
And from the corner of my eye. I notice my husband has come in and had been standing around the corner watching us speak.

And something comes to my mind, as the gentleman continues to speak. Can he vote? And I start to feel sad. Because this has got be the 30th, maybe more, person who has approached me and asked in some way or another, to give them hope. Because they aren't afforded that right. And here I am again.

�Sir, can I ask you something? Can you vote?�

To which he immediately responds.
�Sir? Oh no no no� my name is (and I really would tell you what his name is, but I would butcher the name to such hell, I couldn�t live with myself. ) Please don�t call me sir. You are my friend.� (And he reaches for my hand, places it on his heart and pats it.) �And yes I can vote! I am a citizen!�

The swell of pride that filled his smile. If only I had a camera.

�And you know..� he continues, �I will be at the polls working. I took work off, so I can help do my job there too.�

And I was so humbled.
Am so humbled.
I put my hand on his arm, squeezed it, and said- �That is the most wonderful thing to my ears.�

�Oh than you are my very best friend! Yes, we will be okay.�

�It was wonderful to meet you.�

�Oh yes! You too! You too!�

And I held out my hand for my husband and waved to him goodbye, as we walked out of the store.

I now know I have to go back. I have to tell him what I know.

This fight was only the beginning.

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* - 2007-07-05
--------------------- - 2006-05-30
hello, goodbye - 2006-05-24
Pinky burglar - 2006-03-09
So let's go... - 2006-02-24