It was a week when I should have been spending every night packing up the house. We have done a lot but there is so much more to do. It was a week when I could have been watching the City Series, a chance to see the White Sox one last time before they throw in the towel. It was a week when I could have binged on all the TV shows I missed while devouring ballpark hotdogs and late night pie alá mode in Milwaukee last weekend. But instead, it was the week I spent glued to convention coverage, watching night after night of key note speakers.
First Lady Michelle Obama, Former President Bill Clinton, President Barack Obama. Different styles, but all on message. Let the Democratic Party come together as one, unite behind Hillary Clinton, send Trump back to his Towers and TV shows. America would NOT be portrayed as part of a post-apocalyptic world that would be my private nightmare. With each speech the house in Philadelphia, the Cradle of Liberty, rocked. I won't say I was standing up and cheering in my family room, but I did feel a whole lot better than I felt the week before.
Last night was Clintonpalooza. First Chelsea (my God is she really 36 already?) with Dad crying in pride on the sidelines. And then the Main Event, Hillary Clinton, "presumptive" candidate no longer. I concede that she doesn't have the phrasing, the tonality, the rhythm of the wonderful speakers from earlier in the week. But I loved the way she wasn't afraid to tackle Trump. Her message was more to the left than I wanted or expected, but it was an acknowledgement of the strength of the Bernie Sanders movement.
And there's the rub. Bernie, Bernie, Bernie. Half-hearted applause and not a hint of a smile. I know you lost, I know you are disappointed and feel cheated. But come on, you know she needs you, or at least needs your supporters. And you know you really don't want to open the door to a Trump presidency, once a laughable lunacy, now a poll-able possibility. Would one ear to ear grin, one signal to Bernie Backers that this girl from Park Ridge, Il was alright, really have been that hard? That look on your face is ranked right up there with Clint Eastwood's chair as one of the worst props in convention history.
So in the musical spirit of this blog, a few suggestions for your play list should you ever be in this situation again:
- When You're Smiling
- God Put a Smile on Your Face
- Sarah Smile
- Can't Smile Without You.
Or just remember the Beach Boy's Album Smiley Smile. You can do it Bernie. I know you can!
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