You don't call, you don't write

On the contact form on the White House web site, why does it ask if I want a response--then never respond? I'm polite, I brush my teeth and bathe.

If I were in high school once again, I'd see this as symbolic of the Obama WH who really don't care what anyone thinks, especially "their base" and who send the contact form information out to a black hole way out there. Any wonder they lost my support?

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Tags: black hole, Obama, White House

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    I wrote just asking them to respond and suggesting they at least have a form. Let's see if they just don't like the Drimmers.

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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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