Here are the links to the other fabulous blogs:
Merryland Girl chose
this week, and she asked us to write something
fun/humorous about voting/elections, but do not mention anything about our
upcoming election/candidates. This
is meant to be stress-free and non-controversial.
I can honestly say that
I am finding nothing about this election season stress-free, fun, or humorous. I have read some hilarious Tweets here
and there, but more often, my Facebook feed has been filled with hate and
disparity and downright nastiness.
I’ve lost count of how many friends’ feeds I’ve unfollowed. I am ready for November 9 (I think).
In part for this reason,
I am “cheating” and resurrecting an old post, one I wrote several years
ago. Here is my disclaimer: This post never has been and is not now
intended to be any kind of political commentary. (And I HATE that I need to emphasize that.) It is meant to be what it is and always
has been, a fun, non-political, brief essay on my longing for a simpler time, a
simpler political world.
The post was written
during a prior election season, when I still lived in Chicago, a place known
for some biting, not-always-above-board politics. A thought struck me as I watched some newscast or
other: I missed Bill Clinton. It was a simple as that.
And my reasons? Well, they likely aren’t the ones you
might expect, and they certainly don’t have anything to do with the
mudslinging, bitter, bitter presidential race that surrounds us now.
So here they are, in no
particular order, the top six reasons I miss Bill Clinton:
(1) He was charming. The man
literally charmed the pants (ok, dresses) off of women. His effect on men
was only marginally dissimilar. John Travolta has been credited as saying
that he was “seduced” by Clinton when he met him in 1997. That takes a
special kind of appeal, considering Travolta has never claimed to be anything
but straight (yes, the tabloids have suggested otherwise but, I mean, he was
Tony Manero, for God’s sake!) But perhaps the best evidence of Clinton’s
charisma is the fact that the man was impeached, yet no one seems to have
noticed. Or to even remember.
(2) He was comforting. Bill could
give us bad news and make it seem, well, not so bad. Something in his
tone, in the rise and fall of his voice, made me feel that in the end
everything would turn out just fine. On 9/11, I frantically flipped
channels searching for his image. I needed him to tell me everything was
going to be ok. Because I knew I would believe him.
(3) He got the joke. Remember the
image of Clinton wiping away tears of laughter as he stood alongside Boris
Yeltsin at the FDR Library in 1995? The man found the funny in Boris Yeltsin. Clinton’s laugh was
genuine and contagious, and he wasn’t afraid to throw his head back and let it
peal when the moment struck.
(4) He reminded us of Elvis. It
wasn’t just the Southern thing – it was the Southern thing, and the hair thing, and the impromptu jam session thing and the ever-so-slightly-curled lip thing. Even the usually
humorless Secret Service noticed the resemblance and assigned the President the
code name “Elvis” (Which, by the way, is awesome.). Like the late King himself, Clinton could work a
crowd, except Slick Willie didn’t need a rhinestone jumpsuit.
(5) He had embarrassing relatives.
Not since the Carter Administration had America enjoyed such a dysfunctional
sibling like Roger C. Clinton, Jr. His cocaine-related conviction aside,
Roger served to amuse and to remind us that even the wealthiest and most
powerful among us have to deal with embarrassing family members.
(6) He seemed like one of us. Bill
Clinton was human. He was flawed, for sure – he cheated on his wife, he
regularly caved into his cravings for junk food and he wore wholly unattractive
shorts while jogging. Yet, in the end, those flaws may have constituted
his greatest asset, as they made him relatable, they made him real. Deep
down, Clinton was just a regular guy with a remarkably exceptional job.
William Jefferson Clinton answered to “Mr. President,” but he also answered to
“Bubba.” He lived and owned up to a complicated dual identity, like many
of us do: one person at work, another at home. But even clad in his
most official-looking suit, reading his most serious-themed speech at a most
official-sounding event held halfway around the world, Clinton could not fully
hide the heart of the “boy from Arkansas” beating just behind the starched
collar and presidential tie. Embarrassing? Sometimes.
Pompous? On occasion. Human? Definitely.
So, there you
go. I would respectfully ask that
all comments follow Merryland Girl’s guidelines. Criticize my writing all you want, but let’s keep the
comments apolitical. I’m not above
deleting …
Great post and I know how you feel. The mid-late 90s seemed drama free.
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