I Have a Dream

I Have a Dream

As the caucuses start the laborious process of birthing the presidential candidates who will represent their respective parties, I had sort of a daydream yesterday morning as I was getting ready for work. ABC was gushing all over Hillary Clinton, who had won an upset of sorts in New Hampshire by gaining more support there than her closest Democratic rival, Barack Obama. As she spoke beaming in her victory as "The Comeback Kid," much as her husband did many years ago, I saw myself placed at a little diner in snow-covered rural New Hampshire.

I was morose and forlorn, playing with a plate of food I had no interest in. Lights appeared from TV cameras shining on the walls and into the diner walked none other than Hillary Clinton. She was shaking hands and gabbing, doing the political thing and asking for votes, which is to be expected. I sat in my heavy jacket at the far corner of a bar counter, thinking, in contrast to the throng that surrounded her clamoring for her attention.

Although I strongly disagree with many of her socialist policies, I had no quarrel with this woman personally. No hatred- no ill will.... Ms. Clinton saw me though, and came across the diner to speak with me. "What's the matter?" she asked me.

Looking up at her I said, "I will answer that on the condition that I may speak for one minute, uninterrupted," I replied, with a sad smile on my face. Someone, perhaps a campaign manager began to object, but Hillary raised one finger and whoever it was quickly cut his words off. Secret Service agents bustled forward and frisked me thoroughly, and of course I was clean. They stayed up front on either side of us not quite between myself and her. The diner grew quiet.

"Mrs. Clinton," I began, looking down at my plate then back up again, "how can you say you care about people? We kill over one million of our own people every year." She began to interrupt me, and I lifted my hand from the counter just a little bit, and in a beseeching gesture said "Please, 45 seconds."

She gave a little nod and I continued. "DNA evidence is acceptable in a court of law to determine parentage, to establish identity, to clear the innocent and condemn the guilty. Is it not enough to protect our most cherished possession, our heritage? Our smallest ones, who have no defense of their own lives, no voice in the matter of their own existence?"

"We ended slavery; we established a right for life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness to all except those who need it the most. Will you not reconsider?" The moment seemed to stretch out into slow motion as I looked at her and she looked back at me.

Then time resumed its normal pace and sheer chaos erupted. Ms. Clinton turned away from me without answering and muttered "Get me the hell out of here."

Angry voices shouted as the security detail pushed people out of the way. "How DARE you accost the future president of the United States!" "Who the **** are you? The morality police?" "Mind your own *** ****** business!" From somewhere a frying pan came flying over the counter and nearly hit me, clattering on the floor and adding to the commotion. One enraged woman came up to me and flipped me off in my face. "Go to hell, bastard!"

Mrs. Clinton and her entourage were quickly bustled onto the campaign buses as they tore out of Dodge, so to speak. I was left to deal with the hostile crowd. I had spoiled their chance to have a brush with greatness.

This is where the dream ends. I record it for posterity to attend or ignore, at its own desire.

G. Houtchens
armchair coach
amateur historian