I was finally star struck.

Flying with a school group from Detroit to D.C. for the 1993 Inaugural Festival, we were waiting to board when my dad realized something amazing was happening.  He says, “Emily, do you see who is next to us?” 

I looked over his shoulder and replied, “An old, black man is talking to our choir director.” 

He says, “Look again.” 

I looked again and corrected myself, “An old, blind, black man is visiting with our choir director.” 

After being redirected one more time, it finally hit home that Ray Charles was sitting next to my dad, waiting for the same flight.  As everyone around us went a little nuts and started interrupting Mr. Charles to get pictures, I thought, “Eh, leave the man alone, he just wants to catch his flight.”  I noticed that he had a Braille book in front of him, and even as he looked up and smiled for pictures, he continued reading.  I just refused to give in to the temptation to disrupt his peace and soak up his celebrity.

I had a similar reaction when my roommate, an active college Democrat, was short on volunteers for a presidential visit and begged me to drive for the motorcade.  I turned her down because I had too much homework, and she convinced me that you spend most of the day waiting in the car; I could get a lot done.  I ended up having quite a madcap adventure that day, including getting firm with police and secret service who weren’t convinced that the dirty, blue Olds they had assigned me, really belonged in the motorcade.  It all ended with a brief moment of being face-to-face with Bill Clinton, while we waited for the photographer to set the flash.  I was, again, so nonchalant about meeting the president that I’m not sure I really grasped the moment, even as I grasped the hand of the leader of the free world.  I passed my souvenir photo on to my mom on my next visit and haven’t seen it since.  Last night I lived to regret it.

Despite a very busy week, we decided to take all three kids to see President Obama out at the Iowa State Fairgrounds.  We knew from past political rallies that POTUS is never on time, so we ignored the advice of the organizers who suggested getting there at 3:30pm, and instead didn’t head out until 6, stopping on the way to drive through A&W and eating our spoils in the parking lot before going in.  We cruised right through security with the small band of latecomers and realized as we were ushered into an amphitheater with only a hundred or so other people that we had blown it – we were in the overflow and would only get to hear a piped-in version of the presidents’ speech.  One of the volunteers explained that, if we were very lucky, the president would stop by after his speech and say a word or two before heading out; we should get comfortable for the potential wait.

Imagine our surprise when maybe 3 minutes later, before the official appearance next door, the crowd went nuts and the president walked out on stage right in front of us.  The crowd was so small that we were only a few feet away as he made a few remarks about the brilliance and work ethic of Iowa’s citizens, then he came down off the stage and worked the line, passing just an arm’s length in front of us!  Throughout the evening, our oldest daughter had exactly the nonchalance I used to.  She didn’t see why we needed to walk so far, to stand around in the heat, to give up our evening, just to see some guy in a suit.  Why all the fuss?  He’s just a person like the rest of us.

But after she saw the excitement, heard the nice things the president said about the people of her state, actually looked the nation’s leader in the eyes, her attitude shifted.  Walking back to the car, she expressed her gratitude that we had dragged her out there, and we all marveled at our good luck.  We didn’t have to crowd in with 15,000 other people and look down with binoculars to see a pin prick image of Obama; we were just about close enough to touch him.  On the way out, my husband and I started to say, “That’s probably the closest you will ever get in your life to the President of the United States!”

And my middle girl chirped, “Unless we are her!”

 Among the crowds there was widespread whispering about him. Some said, “He is a good man.” Others replied, “No, he deceives the people.” John 7:12

I Laugh at People

To see more of that I'm
talking about: State Fair Fashion

Did you notice they cleaned up the midway at the Iowa State Fair? They widened the walkways. The rides looked fresh, and the operators appeared to be working a summer job, not career carnies with the toothless look of meth-addiction. It was, by far, the most family-friendly experience I've ever had, circling the midway and putting the girls on the swings. Even that foul-mouthed clown in the dunk tank was gone, along with his crowd of inebriated admirers. I didn't have to brush up against overweight women in skimpy tank tops to get through the tight spots, and my kids didn't ask me on the way home about facial piercings. I didn't even get any fresh ideas for my prison tattoo.

I was so disappointed.

I feel like the color has been sapped out of my life lately. There are things I love about our monochromatic, suburban life: the McDonald's clerk doesn't get lippy when I make a special order, the kids don't come home from school with trucker vocabulary, and there's a park with a pond down the block. It's very pleasant here in Utopia, but, really, what's the fun in that? Every now and then, you need to see the neighbor circling your backyard on his lawn tractor, pulling a dozen kids on a sled, knocking down your landscape, and drinking a beer while he drives. What fun is a good night's sleep when you could be listening right through the walls to the backyard karaoke of ten drunken people blasting their version of "Desperado" on loudspeakers from their patio?

Apparently calls to the police have tempered the neighbors' enthusiasm for parties and lawn equipment, so things have been extremely quiet on our block this summer. Then the fair goes and takes away the human zoo we call the midway. At least my church is in the city – there's always some good, colorful folks around there to spice things up.

During our snarky laughfests, making fun of all the human silliness around us, I do realize that no one leaves the house in the morning thinking, "I hope this outfit makes a fool of me today." Or, "I think I'll go engage in some bizarre and unhealthy behavior tonight, just to give the neighbors a laugh." Truly, when I see those giant, tattooed women pushing strollers full of kids around the fair, I feel sadness for the brokenness of our world. I honestly hope that none of the neighborhood kids ever falls under the wheels of the lawn tractor. But as long as people are going to continue engaging in these absurd behaviors, I invite them to have a good chuckle at my prudishness, and then, by all means, bring on the show.

Wisdom is like having two good eyes; foolishness leaves you in the dark. But wise or foolish, we all end up the same. Ecclesiastes 2:14