Last week I’d planned to hear Rob Russell speak at the Democrflmtrp (*don’t make me say it) Women’s Meeting, so I could come back and tell ya’ll what he said. (I never made it to the meeting: Mr. Smartypants’ Little League game went into extra innings. )
Before the game, however, Daddy had invited us over for a BBQ. Actually, Daddy doesn’t invite. He makes a statement of fact and follows with a quasi question. Of course, the answer is already implied.
“You’re coming over after the game. Right?”
“No, I’m going to a meeting.”
I must have looked shifty when I answered: he kept asking questions.
“What kind of meeting?”
“It’s a political-type thing.”
“The Republicans are having something?”
“No. It’s the Democrflmtrp (*don’t make me say it) Women’s Meeting.”
Daddy got “the look” on his face. It’s the stricken “my daughter just informed me she’s leaving her family because she’s in-love with a female albino environmental-activist midget-violinist with armpit hair and they’re doin’ a stint in the Peace Corps together” and I’m disappointed look. You know, just last week he told me he was too tired to follow politics anymore. He was depending on me to be the hyper-vigilant truthseeker and keep an eye on the liberal communists, who are trying to take over the country and wouldn’t know true freedom if it it bit `em in their backsides.
I felt guilty. Like maybe I’d blinked or something.
That’s when I noticed the splotches on his neck were purple. See, Daddy has scars on his neck: leftovers from when he accidentally blew himself up 15-years ago. When his blood pressure goes up, the neck splotches turn purple. I don’t like it when this happens: it worries me. So, I decided today wasn’t the day to mess with Daddy… unlike last week when I told him we were picketing the Masonic Lodge because they wouldn’t let women join and wear the funny hats.
“Why are you going to a Democrat meeting?” He demanded to know.
“I’m just going to hear Rob Russell speak, Dad, not to join up or anything.”
“Who is Rob Russell?”
“He’s running for congress.”
“As a Democrat?”
“Yeah, but I think he might be a smart guy though.”
He looked at me as though he suspected bad things, and I said nothing. I was content to leave it at that and wait for Daddy to turn the color of a normal human again. I’m telling you: I don’t like the purple. It’s scary.
“OH! You’re going to write about this fellow online. That is why you’re going.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t forget to mention he’s a Democrat. If you’re writing about him, people might just assume he’s Republican.”
“I won’t.”
Later, Spud Lovely (the lil’ Bro) asked if I’d be willing to swing by the House of Music. They needed me to take some photos of a band (or in my case “pretend to know how to work the camera, push the button and hope for the best.”) I told him sure, but it would be later after the Democrflmtrp (*don’t make me say it) Women’s Meeting.
“Why are you going to that? Are you a Democrat?”
“No.”
“Does Daddy know?”
“He knows I’m going.”
“Who is Rob Russell?”
“He’s running for Congress.”
“Never heard of him.” Then again, I’m not sure if Spud Lovely knows who his congressman is – period.
“I figured you had. He’s in a band.”
“You’re not talking about ROB RUSSELL OF THE SORE LOSERS!”
“Yeah.”
“The Sore Losers Rob Russell?”
(Apparently, it helps clarify things if you say it forward and then backwards.)
“Yeah.”
“Well, sign me up! I’m voting for him. Is he really running?”
“Yeah.”
“Wait, are you voting for him?”
“I don’t know yet… maybe… probably.”
But again, I never made it to the meeting.
Extra innings: we lost. When it was over, it was past time to take band photos.
Later, I called Lady Blue Belle to ask how things went. She said I had missed out because Rob Russell was brilliant.
“We really liked what he had to say. You need to come and hear him speak.”
I’ll get my chance.
According to Lady BlueBelle, Rob will be speaking at the Hawkins Co. Democratic Meeting in Surgoinsville on Saturday June 28 at Bellamy’s. I think it starts around 7pm. (I need to check and be sure.) She said come and bring friends.
I’ll take Spud Lovely because we’ll need to lie to Daddy… and SL can do all the talking.
Oh, and here’s a photo of the band. I’ve forgotten their name or I’m not sure I ever knew it… but the lead singer is the son of Spud Lovely’s Boss.
I just like how the photo turned out.
Good job on the pic! You’ll have to show me how to do that sometime…