Blog
Blog 8, May
05/01/2008
Boomers on the Loose, wearing America all over them &
Florida
on the Brink
I don’t speak for all Boomers, only
those who have jet lag and haven’t been anywhere. In fact, my neighbor and I
were talking about that the other day.
He and I ride horses together about once a week; and while we do, we
talk about how we feel now that each of us has lived for six decades and thirty
of those years in Florida.
My neighbor
is a new-age Republican—rural-bred who believes the right to bear arms and own
a horse is fundamental to who he is. I’m a Franklin Roosevelt Democrat who grew
up in the South when almost everyone was a Roosevelt Democrat. I guess you could say my neighbor is as red
and I am blue, and it’s the love of horses that brings us together. Almost every day my neighbor asks me to marry
him even though he knows I celebrated my fortieth anniversary last year. He
explains, “When I ast ya, don’t it make you feel good?”
“Well, yes,
it does.”
My neighbor
and I might have different political philosophies, but we agree completely on
seven things. That war and racism and
religious intolerance are the scourge of the planet. That Brigette Bardo was completely right when
she said it is not GOOD to grow old, but it IS nice to ripen. That as
of next fall, Florida
is going to be hottest political place in the nation. And that we’re also
pretty ticked-off that our voices have been robbed in the primary.
We’re
wondering if we can ever live it down. I
mean, becoming a celebrity by gumming up the works in 2000 and now throwing a
monkey wrench in the primary battle. Yet, we, the average Floridian did nothing
to bring this on ourselves. We trusted the leaders of our parties. We trusted those with the power to do things
right, to simply run an election where every vote is counted. But now, we’ve become the nation’s whipping
boy and fodder for late-night jokes. Well, if you don’t like the way we vote,
wait till you see us drive.
I’m betting that our sweet revenge will be in the fall when
once again we become a make-or-break player in choosing the nation’s president.
No doubt,
the media will move in here thicker than love-bugs. My neighbor is thinking
about renting out RV space in his pasture. Our phones will ring almost non-stop
with pre-recorded messages from the candidates’ mother and children, maybe even
their dog walkers. They’ll call it “getting out the base,” but my neighbor and
I are going to call it “getting our due.”
Frankly, I’m looking forward to all this attention. It’s not everyday I
can feel like I do when the electricity comes back on after a hurricane!
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