Obama came to Detroit today and the heat punched down on my head while I watched the video monitor since I was too far from the stage to see.
I am beginning to realize that his campaign is just a bright spot in my every day. Sometimes when the rest of everything is getting too heavy - the house on the east side still isn't packed up, i'm broke and can't afford good ice cream, the car goes bumpy-grumpy, I don't know, Obama just makes my day.
I think about him like an old friend. Which is silly I guess, considering I don't even know what kind of beer he drinks, if he's even a beer kinda' guy. I never had to tell him he had popcorn stuck in his front tooth. Never had to pretend I wasn't mad because he didn't show up for the Saturday matinee, and I wound up going by myself (and then never had to hide the fact that I kind of preferred it that way, because *to be honest* well, he slurps his coke and it's annoying) . And, of course, I've never had to hound him for the book he borrowed, or hide from him cause I still owed him fifty bucks.
But the way your week gets all funny acting, and you remember your friends - well hell, at least so n so is my ace, at least so n so is on my side, Yeah, I admit I think about Obama like that.
How is that possible. What the hell is wrong with me.
I imagine, though, I'm not the only one. Thanks, Barack, old buddy, old pal, for being motivated and motivating. And thanks for stopping by Detroit. It was good to see you.