He is as tall as he looks on TV. His smile is broad and genuine. And, he really does have the knack of truly connecting to the ‘little guy.’
Yes, I got to shake Barack Obama’s hand and meet the guy unmediated, unmonitored, and entirely without spin. He’s the real deal. This country could be so lucky.
So, there we were, happily chowing down on a burger, fries and wheat beers. There’s cowboy hats, bolo ties, and a good assortment of clean jeans sitting up at the long, long bar. The walls are covered with the proud local traditions of mining, miners and the ethnic groups to which they belonged. Stevie, the grizzled shoe-shine drifts from one pub denizen to another.
Then, suddenly, a suit appears, wielding a reporter’s notepad. A handful of political operatives (you can pick them by their silk ties, Chanel handbags, and Blackberrys) all turn their attention to the door. We know not who the buzz of expectation, the frission of anticipation, is for. But, it is clear something is about to happen.
It was all so sudden, so undramatic, and so ordinary. Barack walked in, smiled, took in the scene, and then found the first hand to shake, the first person to greet and give his full attention.
Initially stunned, the forty or fifty of us in the bar were amazed this was really happening. We cheered and we clapped. The man-who-might-be-President was right there, mere feet away, smiling, chatting, and clearly enjoying himself. Barack was at ease and quickly, we were too. Excited, nervous but not in anyway scared or intimidated.
Out came the cell phones, the digital cameras, and the pieces of paper for him to sign. It all seemed OK for us to gawk, to snap photos, and to ask him for a special word or two. No-one crowded him, no-one pushed or jostled. (Of course, the Secret Service wouldn’t let that happen, and the media all took positions behind the bar.)
One-by-one, Barack visited with us. He asked after our story, he told us he was glad to see us, and he graciously allowed photo after photo (that will be treasured and talked about for weeks, months, maybe years).
Now, he may have a bit of a jellyfish handshake! You would too if you had hundreds of them, day in and day out. But, it is the genuine attentiveness, the eye-to-eye connection and the immediate warmth with which he greets you that is notable. You are swept entirely into his world, for just a moment. There is no hoopla, no distractions, just your story and his.
Wow. Is this a great nation or what? That a man on the cusp of becoming the leader of the free world graciously asks a seven-year-old if he could have a couple of fries, signs the bartenders t-shirt, and then turns to address the small crowd saying how marvelous he found this place we call home and asking after the fishing; that is amazing. You know he would have loved to have had a beer (indeed, he would say so later that night in his speech.) Nothing staged, and nothing rehearsed. A man of the people, getting to meet the people, all across the country.
And, then Barack was gone. The Secret Service now let us freely come and go. The media all file back onto their bus. As we exit into the bright, chilly afternoon, left in the wake of the moment, it is clear that something special just happened. Something that you never really experience on TV. Something that makes you proud and amazed to be an American.
I would say there’s no where else in the world right now where it would happen quite this way. And that makes me smile. That gives me hope.
p.s. Your not-so-humble correspondent was able to give Barack a quick lesson in the Presbyterian art of fly-fishing: “Its ten and two, Senator, ten and two!”
