PART 1: I Thought There'd Be Food: Adventures at the Al Franken Rally

I have no idea why any candidate would want my support, except that I'm a warm body who can legally cast a vote. I hold no sway, I influence no vast and powerful group. I can't exhort my radio audience to do my bidding, nor would I want to: sheep bore the hell out of me. (Except as one of the wonderful dishes at one of my favorite restaurants, Da Afghan in Bloomington, Minnesota. Go there. Now.)

So I was quite befuddled when, on March 17, I received a phone call from a volunteer with Al Franken's Senate campaign headquarters in St. Paul. I'd previously supported Franken, but had paused to explore other candidates. (One of whom, Mike Ciersi, abandoned his campaign shortly after I began considering him. I believe there is no connection.)

When I first contemplated whether I liked Mr. Franken as a candidate, Mr. Franken's Press Secretary, Jess McIntosh, was amazingly kind and patient in answering my several emailed inquiries about Franken's stance on certain topics. Considering how beseiged Ms. McIntosh must be in her job, that she took time to reply, and to give me extensive information, greatly impressed me. How many emails must she receive in the course of a day, along with handling Franken's media schedule? I appreciate kindness, because, as a low-wage worker, I too often experience rudeness and contempt from those who mistake sales clerks for serfs. (That means you, lady who literally threw her credit card at my chest while talking on her cell phone. I hope that fetal poodle you were lugging through the airport developed some self-esteem and lunged for your pearl-chokered throat.)

Yes, I express anger. I am fully aware that I, like other low-wage workers, am Not Supposed To Be Angry. We are supposed to Be Grateful That We Have Jobs.











Working people expressing anger make Conservatives, and, I confess, some Liberals, nervous. They're nervous that we may actually question things, such as why we who make the lives of so many people easier, more comfortable and more pleasant, by picking their food, processing their food, serving their food, cleaning their houses, offices and hotels, taking care of their children and elderly, and serving America in so many ways, are barely able to get by financially. Or we might start wondering why we do heavy, stressful, and repetitive physical labor, but we get inadequate breaks during work, and we can’t afford health insurance. Or why the public transportation upon which so many of us rely, because we can’t afford cars or car insurance, is considered by many to be an "expense" they don’t want their taxes supporting. Or why we’re told we’re irresponsible if we have unplanned children, but we shouldn’t be taught about contraception in schools, or given the choice to have a safe abortion. If we the working people become angry, we might stop questioning and start demanding. Heaven forfend!

These days, many Conservative candidates accuse Liberal candidates of being divisively angry. God knows Right Wing Conservatives and their media supporters, such as Rush Limbaugh and Ann Coulter, have never, EVER been contentious. They are all of them all embracing and all inclusive of everyone, all the time. Why, in 1995-1996, at the time when Norm Coleman switched from the Democratic to the Republican Party, Conservative Republican leaders like Newt Gingrich eagerly demonstrated their bipartisanship, and their distaste for name-calling and conflict.
Perhaps unaware that I’m a Working Poor Commentator with a reputation for being pissed off, the nice young man from Franken’s headquarters told me there would be a campaign rally for Al Franken in the Rotunda of the Capitol building in St. Paul, on March 25th, and he hoped I would attend. I didn’t flatter myself that I was called because the candidate wanted me, specifically, to be there. As far as I know, Al Franken isn’t aware that I exist. But rallies need bodies to plug up the open spaces for the TV cameras. I’m sure hundreds of people who’d expressed even an atom of interest in Franken’s campaign received invitations.

However, there aren’t a lot of "regular" people who are free at 10 AM on a week day. We do this thing called Work. Most of us can’t get the day off for sick children or internal bleeding, let alone attending a political rally. One manager I know, upon being asked by an employee for a day off to attend a funeral, demanded proof that the employee’s grandmother had actually died. I was scheduled to work, and, with no vacation time and no co-worker who could cover my shift, I had to work.

Coincidentally, an emergency made it necessary for me to take March 25th off from my job. Having dealt with the emergency, I found I had time to walk over to the Capitol building. If the rally was boring, I could explore the beautiful interior of the Capitol. It was a cold, brisk morning, and I wanted to be inside. I hadn’t eaten since lunch the previous day, so my stomach was growling. I thought there might be a chance that snacks and soda would be offered to those who arrived early. When you earn near minimum wage, you never pass up a chance for free food.


St. Paul's Capitol building is truly magnificent. I stood before the vast marble steps and begrudgingly admitted that this Capitol is more beautiful than the Capitol in my hometown, Lansing, Michigan. I nodded to the gentleman in the tiny white security guard box at the foot of the stairs, he nodded back, and I went up.

The Rotunda was busy with people, most of whom looked to be in their twenties. Beneath the gorgeous dome, a lectern stood on a platform, flanked on both sides by a semi-circle of folding chairs. I introduced myself to a tall, curly-haired young man who was fiddling with a tripod. He cheerfully introduced himself as Will Howell, Franken's Student Outreach Coordinator. Friendly and chatty, Howell said that Jess McIntosh wasn't there yet, but the moment she arrived he'd tell her about me. I was free to look around or take a seat.

There wasn't any food. All I saw was a can of Diet Coke, apparently belonging to someone with FOX News.

The chairs were sectioned off, those to the right of the lectern for VIPs and guests, those to the left for the public. I watched ABC, NBC, CNN and local TV channels putting their equipment into place, and I recognized Mary Lahammer of Twin Cities Public Television. It was a bigger news event than I'd anticipated. Good. I wanted to see Franken in action. I wanted to see if he pulled on a plastic mask, the way many political wanna-bes do, to see if he was "on," the way performers are who live only for attention. I wanted to see whether Franken was just another political wanker.

I've never seen Franken on television or in a movie. I've never read any of his books, though I shelved them when I worked at bookstores. His celebrity meant nothing to me. However, his speaking out for people like myself when so few would had meant something to me.

Just as I was thinking this, Jess McIntosh said hello. A slim, attractive young woman with short red hair and a sharp, dark suit, she had friendly professionalism. She also obviously had people demanding her attention from ten directions at once. McIntosh shook my hand and gave me a Press Packet, then hurried off with two other Franken people in tow.

A nice woman one seat to my left engaged me in conversation. Rachel Dykoski told me about her involvement with OpenDemocracy.Net and E-Democray.org. A man in a suit and tie sat between us. Rachel recognized him and shook his hand, saying it was an honor to meet him. I shook his hand, but had no idea who the heck he was. He listened attentively as I described my passion to find candidates who are sincerely concerned in the plights of the working poor. He and Rachel discussed topics about community politics that I knew nothing about. Listening to how much these two had devoted their lives to various causes, I felt like an ignorant, lazy do-nothing.

But I hadn't been a lazy do-nothing. I'd been busy surviving.

At that instant, as people crowded the Rotunda and the balcony above, as Klieg lights snapped on, it struck me as if for the first time that who is in office directly effects my survival. For nine years, I'd worked for the Lansing Public Library in Lansing, Michigan. In a mid 90s, when Gingrich's Republican Revolution swept the nation, Michigan Republicans, such as then Governor and George W. Bush friend John Engler, defunded my library. Completely. The staff and the collection were gutted. I quit, not being able to bear the destruction. When both my parents passed away, friends in Minnesota encouraged me to move here, a Liberal state that valued its libraries.
A year after I arrived, I was scheduled to interview for a position at Minneapolis' downtown library, where, I was told, they most certainly wanted my experience and skill. A hiring freeze went into effect the day before my interview. The Liberal State of Minnesota lurched to the Right, and libraries weren't a priority. A new downtown library was erected, but no new jobs came with it.


To pay the bills, I was forced to find work in retail, for far less pay. A dear friend, who's a poet, editor and Reference Librarian, who attended the College of St. Catherine and has a Masters Degree, could only get work as a substitute librarian. She was moved from library to library, never knowing how many hours she'd get from week to week. Because she didn't work full-time, she didn't get benefits. After even more funding cuts, she quit as a librarian and became a paralegal. Another friend who was a library Page was laid off.

A library job would have provided me with a good income, health insurance, and a retirement fund. Instead, for seven years I've worked two or three low-wage jobs at a time, hanging by my fingernails, hoping diaster didn't strike. Which it has, more than once. Tens of thousands of Minnesotans are in my same position.

Those in office influence our lives by their votes on whether or not to raise the minimum wage, and, if so, by how much. By their votes on whether or not to fund public services, education, transportation, and by using public money to built multi-million dollar ballparks, but not creating grants for people in financial distress, who need just a little help to keep their families' heads above tragedy. And by funding wars.

The people gathering in the VIP section, shaking hands and slapping backs, impacted the quality of my life. Well, it was time to find out who was who, and to hold them accountable.

The only Minnesota politician I'd heard of, besides the present Governor, was State Representative Leon Lillie, a DFLer from North St. Paul and Maplewood. Two Northwest baggage handlers told me about him.

I'd spoken with Lillie in passing a few times at the MSP airport, where we both work. Lillie is an amiable guy with a sense of humor, and he impressed me by stating, without hesitation or apology, that he's Liberal. For too long, Conservative Republicans cowed Liberal Democrats. Lillie wasn't intimidated, which would gain him my vote, if I lived in his district.

But I didn't know who my Representative was. Hell, I didn't even know what district I lived in.

A balding man with a small scarf came over and whispered to the gentleman with whom Rachel and I had been speaking. They disappeared behind the lectern platform, which now had four people seated on it. Then the man returned. He whispered to Rachel and I, "Would you come with me, please?"

Puzzled, I followed him. He placed me behind the platform, between two of the Rotunda's huge marble pillars.

Obviously the man was involved in some way with the Franken campaign. I wondered if he'd wanted me and my big, button-covered backpack out of sight of the media. But now I was, quite literally, in the spotlight. At least three cameras were aimed in my direction.

I was probably too short to be seen. But I couldn't assume that. I'd made that assumption when ABC News had sent me to Washington D.C. in November 2006, to appear live on Good Morning America. In the Rotunda of the Russell Building on the Hill, I had my glasses off during filming, because the thick lenses reflected light. I'm legally blind without them. So I didn't see that the cameras' little red lights were on as I listened to representatives of the Democrats and the Republicans answer my question about affordable health care. I made faces. Seconds later, I realized that my sarcastic expressions were being seen, live, by Americans across the country. So I made the most of my screw up by exaggerating my expressions even more. No one has rolled her eyes better on national TV than I have.

Here, in the St. Paul Rotunda, an ulterior motive came to mind. Rachel, the man we'd spoken with, and I were people of color. People of color were a minority at the rally. Could it be that Franken's people wanted black and tan faces behind the entirely Caucasian ones on the platform?

Man, have you gotten cynical, I thought. Not without reason, I replied to myself.

The event began. Now I would finally hear, in person, whether Al Franken had anything to say to me.

COMING JUNE 1: Part 2: This Guy

Quick Comment

I adore it when politicians argue about which among them better understands the minds and lives of us regular folk. And how absolutely cute of George Will to get on his high and mighty horse and use "elitist" as a bad word. Thank heavens we working class Americans have George Will to defend us from a black man raised by his single white mother.

The deepest conversation George Will has had with a paycheck to paycheck American is to say, "I want a Grande, half-caf, no foam, extra hot."

Or maybe he has people who do that for him.

ESSAY COMING SOON: Adventures at the Al Franken Rally

Why I Won't Vote for Hillary

I was a weird little kid. My tastes weren't "normal" for a girl in 1960s Mid-America. "Normal" kids liked Peanuts (I got tired of waiting for Charlie Brown to develop a backbone), dolls (Barbie was only good for burying in the mud or running over with a lawn mower, though digging Barbie shrapnel out of the grass was a pain), Superhero comics (who can identify with perfect people?), and "kids' games" (the creator of Dodge Ball was a sick S.O.B., who I hope was pummeled to death by a pack of Fifth Graders, using large rubber balls.)

No, I spent my tender years laughing at Gerald C. Gardner’s Who’s In Charge Here? photo-caption books.

Starting in the early 60s, Gerald C. Gardner added word balloons to photographs of leading politicians and public figures. I haven’t a book of his at hand from which I can scan an example, so here are two photo-toons from Harvey Kurtzman’s 1967 book, Beat It Kid, You Can’t Vote, which is almost identical in style and humor to Gardner’s work.

















I'm the only kid I knew who thought that was hilarious. I also adored the political satire of The Smothers Brothers Show and Mark Russell on PBS.

I don’t know why I was interested in politicians. Some kids are obsessed with dinosaurs, because they were huge, roaring, larger than life creatures, who stomped across the landscape, crushing smaller, weaker creatures, and kids wanted to be them. To me, politicians were huge, roaring, larger than life creatures, who stomped across the landscape, crushing smaller, weaker creatures, and alive. They did things. I didn’t want to be a politician. But I sure loved observing them, the way Jane Goodall observed chimps.

My true political awakening was in 1976, at age fifteen, with America’s Bicentennial. I went on a road trip with my best friend, Carol Skillings, her sister Laura, and her mother Dorothy. We visited Monticello, Colonial Williamsburg, Jamestown, Mount Vernon, and Washington D.C. I fell head over heels for the American Revolution. I developed a patriotic fervor. I saw the movie musical 1776 on TV. John Adams, as portrayed by William Daniels, was my hero, because he was obnoxious and disliked, but his heart was in the right place, and he fought for his ideals, even in the face of being declared a traitor and knowing he’d be hanged if captured by the British.

My fervor was also whetted by the aftermath of Watergate. I considered Watergate to be the triumph of a Free Press over those who would shred the Constitution in their greed for power. After Nixon's resignation, my adolescent idealism wanted a President of whom I could be proud, who rose above his personal desires, whose ambition was solely to dedicate himself to serving The People.

For me, Jimmy Carter fit the bill. Here was a soft-spoken man who was not afraid to stand his ground. He was kind, gentle, and intelligent: Mr. Rogers as President. During the Energy Crisis, to set an example for conserving energy in the home, he turned down the White House thermostat and put on a cardigan when he asked us to do the same. To this day, I can’t leave a room without turning out the lights, because President Jimmy Carter asked me to. (Not me, personally, but I felt as if he were talking to me.) Because of him, solar panels popped up on houses in my neighborhood. Carter was a dedicated Baptist, but he didn’t flaunt his religion or act superior because of it. That the man brought about a peace agreement between Egyptian President Anwar al-Sadat and Israeli Prime Minister Menachem Begin made me admire and adore him forever.

I was too young to pay attention to the debates about Carter's policies, and I didn't understand the fuss about his brother, Billy. Jimmy Carter was a man whose hand I would have been honored to shake. I would still be honored to.

Age and experience haven't dulled my idealism for a President of whom I can be proud. Quite the opposite, the decades have intensified it. William Jefferson Clinton was the first president I ever voted for. Like so many voters, I thought he would finally be the Democrat who would lead America out of the Dark Ages of the Reagan years and George the First. (We didn't know he was the First then. I don't recall his mentioning he even had children. I knew he had a dog.)

But then Clinton... Well. How ironic, that Jimmy Carter was condemned for admitting to lusting in his heart.

Now Hillary Clinton is running. Hillary Clinton would be terrible as the first woman President of the United States. I'm a Liberal Democrat Feminist saying this.

I want the first female president to be of such self-respect, dignity, confidence, and strength of character that she would never tolerate having done to her, by anyone, what Hillary tolerated from her husband. Hillary's example to young women is to stick with a lying, philandering heel. I heard a woman voter on NPR say that she liked Hillary because "she's loyal to her husband." Why is it that we expect wives to be loyal to husbands, but not husbands to be loyal to their wives?

Of course, it's the age-old double standard. Wives were "created" to stay by men's sides, faithful and true. It's the nature of men to be lying and faithless. They can't control themselves.

Please, men, will some of you dispute this already? Will some man please say, "Excuse me, I'm not an animal. I'm perfectly capable of controlling myself. I don't have to act on my impulses. I have the human impulse to kill too, y'know. But as much as I liked watching Clive Owen destroy the jerk driver who cut him off in Shoot 'Em Up, I would never do it."

The country would benefit from men who state that they are sincerely happy to defy the stereotype of "boys will be boys." There may be two or three in the world. If they do exist, they're far too quiet.

Yes, presidents have cheated on their wives, and still done good in office. But too often the public, and the press, have looked the other way, because they liked the guy.

And political wives continue to stand by their men, time and time and time again. At this point, one wonders why there's any rules against adultery at all. Apparently it doesn't bother the wives, or the voters. "It's their business, leave 'em alone." If we don't care that our politicians won't keep their promises to their spouses, we have no right to be upset when they don't keep their promises to us.

I've not read either of the Clintons' autobiographies, so I don't know what reason they give for staying together. Chelsea Clinton has stated, brusquely, "It’s none of your business….That is something that is personal to my family. I'm sure there are things that are personal to your family that you don't think are anyone else's business either.’’ She added, "I don't think you should be voting for or against my mother because of my father."

As an American citizen, the character of the President of the United States is my business. When Bill Clinton shook his self-righteous finger and stated, "I did not have sex with that woman, Monica Lewinski," he lied to me. If his wife accepted being mistreated, and she wants to be my leader, it is indeed my business to inquire about her judgment. Why should I accept a president who endures behavior that I wouldn’t? When Hillary learned the truth about Lewinski, who was only one affair in a long line of many, why didn’t Hillary leave, and begin anew on her own?

Why does she love a man who treated her so badly? Or is she so ambitious that she’ll endure anything, so long as it gets her into the White House? Why would I want a woman who repeatedly forgives such contempt to be the leader of the United States of America?

I want my president to be human. But, idealist that I am, I want more. This is why people choose a leader. When the president-elect takes the Oath of Office, she or he should fully understand that it is meant to be, it should be, a transformative ritual. That person is stepping from the sphere of normal life, into a role of a greater being. Americans want, we need, someone who will rise to a higher standard of responsibility, sacrifice, nobility, and courage. As much as we say we want a president who’s just one of us, in our American hearts we want someone who is stronger than we are, wiser than we are, and more honorable than we are. Otherwise, truly, what’s the point? If the job is to be had by anyone with enough money and political clout, then, as the saying goes, we get the government we deserve. Case in point, a president who’s barely literate, and who wasn’t altogether honest about "Weapons of Mass Destruction." We brought him upon ourselves.

We need to trust our president’s judgment. Because if the most powerful leader in our nation, perhaps in the world, has bad judgement and a flimsy character, it can lead to disaster. Our president should, as our first President, a man of impeccable character, said,

Hillary's judgment is already being revealed as quite bad. She made the assumption that the American people and the press are fools. (She should have known better about the press.) Why did she believe that no one would double-check her story of being under sniper attack during her visit to Bosnia? I was personally insulted that she said, with condescending irritation, "So I made a mistake. That happens. It proves I'm human, which you know, for some people, is a revelation." She told the Pittsburgh Tribune-Review: "I was sleep-deprived, and I misspoke."

No matter how tired you are, how can you mistake being peacefully greeted by a little girl with you and your daughter running for cover from gunshots?

Here is a picture of a sniper attack, and a picture that is not a sniper attack. Can you tell the difference?

Evidently Mrs. Clinton can't. If Hillary had really been under sniper fire, she would never forget it. I hear gunshots outside my apartment building, and I assure you, I don't forget it. I've become blase' about it, but I don't forget it.

OUTSIDE APARTMENT BULDING: Blam, blam, blamblam blam
ME (rolling over in bed, dialing 911)
911 (tired voice; they’re used to my number): What is your emergency?
ME (tired): Gunfire.
911 (tired): How many this time?
ME: Five, quick succession.
911: See anything?
ME: Nope.
911: ‘Kay. Sending a squad car.
ME: All righty then. (hangs up, goes back to sleep)

What if Hillary is "mistaken" about things when she’s President?

If Hillary wins, Bill Clinton will once again live in the White House. I'm certain he won't limit his involvement with his wife's administration to serving tea and scones to visiting dignitaries. If Bill Clinton wouldn't control his behavior when he was President, what would make him control it as First Husband? Has he been in therapy? Is he in a Twelve Steps Sex Addicts program? What if yet another Clinton Administration is derailed due to a sex scandal? (Of course the media would constantly be sniffing around, desperately hoping for one.) How long would it be before Americans trusted the Democratic Party again? Why should we risk it, when there is a fresh, new candidate for the Democratic nomination, lugging no such baggage?

Should Hillary win the nomination, McCain has plenty ammunition to use against her. Don’t doubt he’ll use it all. Nothing from the Clintons’ past will be off limits.

McCain can gut Hillary, and what ammunition can she use in return? That he’s old? We know that. That he’s Conservative? We know that. That he’s not offering anything new? Neither is she.

But if Barack Obama is the Democratic candidate, McCain has little to fling at him, at least for now. No doubt McCain's people, as well as Clinton's, are frantically digging through Obama's past, hoping to unearth bodies, or diaries, or tapes, or even third-hand anecdotes, of horrible doings and offensive acts. So far, all they've come up with is a bigoted pastor. And Obama didn't even have sex with him. They flung that dirt and it didn't stick. If there are skeletons in Obama's closet, no one's found them yet. They haven't even found the closet. Or the house the closet's in.

While I'm a Feminst, I'm also a woman of multi-color. The only problem I had with the Old School Feminists of the early 70s was their seperating themselves from the Civil Rights Movement, for fear that it would split the Women’s Liberation Movement. As much as I want to see a woman become president in my lifetime, I believe it would be an even greater achievement for a man of multi-colors to be president. As someone who grew up during the violence of the 60s, I long to see all Americans claiming, and I believe proudly, a black man as the person they’ve chosen to sit in the seat once occupied by Washington and Jefferson, great men but slave-owners as well. And, I also believe, a man who, more than any other candidate, will understand that, when taking the Oath of Office, he is in a transformative ritual.

I have to add that I want my president to have a sense of humor. Because without it, she or he will crack under the strain of being a huge, roaring, larger than life creature, stomping across the landscape, crushing smaller, weaker creatures...only for the good of democracy, of course.

The candidates I really want to vote for this election have great senses of humor, but they aren’t in the running. And until Geeks stop snarking at cheesy movies and debating whether they’ll see the new Star Trek prequel (god help us all), the Scify/Fantasy/Anime "Geek Party" will never get off the couch and onto the ballot. Which may be just as well. Running for President is an adventure, but actually winning seems to ruin the fun.










Best regards,

Moira Manion

NEXT TIME:
I Thought There'd Be Food: Adventures at the Al Franken Rally

(pic credits to come in the future)