and I didn't recognize any of them. Was something odd going on?
I took a breath as one of the women --- older and wearing a sensible pantsuit, bright pink --- came out and adjusted the microphone on the lectern. Something went wrong and the squealing feedback felt like an ice pick stuck in my ear.
No, nothing odd, as the feedback went away. Just politics. The woman started speaking in a loud, breathy voice, and I quickly learned that she was the head of the county party organization, and that the people sitting behind her were candidates for local state representative openings, the governor's council, and county attorney.
As she started introducing each of these people, it quickly became apparent that the crowd was not in the mood to listen to the candidates for state representative, the governor's council, or county attorney. The respectful silence moved rapidly to low mutters and murmurs, but the head of the county organization kept plugging away, talking about the challenge facing the local towns and the county, and how all must work together. As she gamely went through her fifteen-plus minutes of fame, I wondered if the crowd would eventually revolt and charge the stage.
I leaned against the wall. Closed my eyes. Kept my eyes closed. It was so loud, so hot.
And then ---
" ... my honor and privilege to introduce the next president of the United States, Senator Jackson Hale!"
The crowd erupted with cheers and applause, long bouts of applause, which grew even louder as the senator came up on the stage, waving and laughing, pointing to people in the crowd. I had seen him, of course, on television and in the newspapers, but in the flesh, he seemed more fit, more tan. He was about six foot tall, with a thick thatch of gray black hair, and an easy, engaging smile that seemed to make everyone in the room think they were his very best friend. He waved and waved, and then motioned, and a slim woman joined him up on the stage, Mrs. Senator Jackson Hale herself, also known as Barbara S. Hale, and known to a few others, years earlier, as Barbara Scott, a name I knew her by back when I had dated her in college, so many years and lifetimes ago.
Chapter Three
The applause went on and on. Hale held up both of his arms like a prizefighter, finally getting to a place he belonged, a place that was soon to be his destiny, and then he went to the lectern, where he adjusted the microphone with practiced ease. Near me the cameras on the raised platform moved as one, scanning to one side as he made his way to the lectern. The applause began to ease and he bent forward, saying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you... "
I noticed that I was being watched by some of the people about me, staring at me with hostility, and I started applauding, too. No reason to upset the true believers in my immediate vicinity.
Senator Hale said, "Thank you so much for this lovely reception. I'm honored to be with you here today, among the good people and voters of New Hampshire, and I'd like to take a few minutes to... "
I looked around the room again, trying to find Annie, but gave up. It was impossible.
So I looked at the senator's wife instead.
Barbara.
She stood next to him, smiling widely, and something inside of me tingled just a bit. It had been a very long time since I had seen that particular smile in person. Her blond hair was different, of course, for in college she had worn it long and straight. Now it was cut more fashionably about the shoulder, and Barbara, whose idea of fashion in college had been tight jeans and a T-shirt, was wearing some sort of skirt and jacket combo that was probably worth more than my home computer.
Her husband said, "This election is about more than just me and my opponents, it's about the direction we plan to take, the direction that all of us in this fine country will choose in the next several months as we determine what kind of people we plan to be, what kind of nation we intend to be... "
Barbara
I took a breath as one of the women --- older and wearing a sensible pantsuit, bright pink --- came out and adjusted the microphone on the lectern. Something went wrong and the squealing feedback felt like an ice pick stuck in my ear.
No, nothing odd, as the feedback went away. Just politics. The woman started speaking in a loud, breathy voice, and I quickly learned that she was the head of the county party organization, and that the people sitting behind her were candidates for local state representative openings, the governor's council, and county attorney.
As she started introducing each of these people, it quickly became apparent that the crowd was not in the mood to listen to the candidates for state representative, the governor's council, or county attorney. The respectful silence moved rapidly to low mutters and murmurs, but the head of the county organization kept plugging away, talking about the challenge facing the local towns and the county, and how all must work together. As she gamely went through her fifteen-plus minutes of fame, I wondered if the crowd would eventually revolt and charge the stage.
I leaned against the wall. Closed my eyes. Kept my eyes closed. It was so loud, so hot.
And then ---
" ... my honor and privilege to introduce the next president of the United States, Senator Jackson Hale!"
The crowd erupted with cheers and applause, long bouts of applause, which grew even louder as the senator came up on the stage, waving and laughing, pointing to people in the crowd. I had seen him, of course, on television and in the newspapers, but in the flesh, he seemed more fit, more tan. He was about six foot tall, with a thick thatch of gray black hair, and an easy, engaging smile that seemed to make everyone in the room think they were his very best friend. He waved and waved, and then motioned, and a slim woman joined him up on the stage, Mrs. Senator Jackson Hale herself, also known as Barbara S. Hale, and known to a few others, years earlier, as Barbara Scott, a name I knew her by back when I had dated her in college, so many years and lifetimes ago.
Chapter Three
The applause went on and on. Hale held up both of his arms like a prizefighter, finally getting to a place he belonged, a place that was soon to be his destiny, and then he went to the lectern, where he adjusted the microphone with practiced ease. Near me the cameras on the raised platform moved as one, scanning to one side as he made his way to the lectern. The applause began to ease and he bent forward, saying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you... "
I noticed that I was being watched by some of the people about me, staring at me with hostility, and I started applauding, too. No reason to upset the true believers in my immediate vicinity.
Senator Hale said, "Thank you so much for this lovely reception. I'm honored to be with you here today, among the good people and voters of New Hampshire, and I'd like to take a few minutes to... "
I looked around the room again, trying to find Annie, but gave up. It was impossible.
So I looked at the senator's wife instead.
Barbara.
She stood next to him, smiling widely, and something inside of me tingled just a bit. It had been a very long time since I had seen that particular smile in person. Her blond hair was different, of course, for in college she had worn it long and straight. Now it was cut more fashionably about the shoulder, and Barbara, whose idea of fashion in college had been tight jeans and a T-shirt, was wearing some sort of skirt and jacket combo that was probably worth more than my home computer.
Her husband said, "This election is about more than just me and my opponents, it's about the direction we plan to take, the direction that all of us in this fine country will choose in the next several months as we determine what kind of people we plan to be, what kind of nation we intend to be... "
Barbara
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