September 24, 2008--The Ladies of Forest Trace: Whose Future Is It Anyway?

“Can you help me understand something?” It was my 100 year-old mother calling from Florida. Without waiting for my response, which would have been, “Of course,” she said, “Not my girls, the ones I eat dinner with every night, but Sarah and her canasta friends came over to us yesterday to talk about the election.”

Eager to hear what she had to report because I have been using the ladies of the Forest Trace retirement community as my own private focus group since theirs is such an important state and thus their changing views about who to vote for may prove to be a good way of keeping track of which way Florida an thus this election may be leaning.

They still feel moral responsible for electing George Bush in 2000 and want to make amends by voting for a Democrat. But in spite of this, after Hillary Clinton lost the nomination many of them reluctantly played with the idea of voting for John McCain, actually against Barack Obama who they felt had been unfair to Hillary.

“You remember of course how I was the only one here who supported Barack Obama during the so-called Florida primary.” Even with the bad connection I could hear how she underlined the so-called. “All my girls were for Hillary. They still liked her husband and thought the two of them back in the White House would be good for them and the country. I never trusted her and even though she is a woman I didn’t think that was enough of a reason to vote for her.”

I could hear an audible sigh, “Oh, how the ladies were angry with me. How could I, they said, vote against the first woman to have a real chance of becoming president? I told them, those that would listen, that I would rather have a good president than a female president and that in my opinion Obama would make the much better president.”

I mumbled my agreement. “And wouldn’t it be equally special to have a black man elected. Of course I didn’t say that to them. That would be pushing things too far. But then after McCain picked that floozy from Alaska . . .”

I had to interrupt, “Mom, please, she’s not a floozy. I don’t like her any more than you, but it’s not helpful to talk about her that way. Look what they said about Michelle Obama. We’ve talked about how unfair that was, so we can’t allow ourselves to talk about Sarah Palin this way. Though to tell you the truth,” I couldn’t help myself from adding, “she does look as if . . .”

“You see what I mean. Even you, the professor, likes his gossip! But that’s neither here nor there. They came around, as I told you, the girls, and now they’re all voting for Obama. I’m making sure they fill out absentee ballots because who knows, between now and November 4th we may all be in intensive care or worse.”

“Now mom, please don’t talk that way. You’re more than 100 and basically perfect.”

“Except for my little stroke in February. Remember, we weren’t so sure I’d be here for my birthday in June much less for Election Day. And to tell you the truth half the girls aren’t looking so hot to me.”

“I wish you wouldn’t talk that way but I know that’s the way you are and I love you for it.” Which is true. “But what were you saying about Sarah and her friends? I thought you didn’t like them. How come they sought you out? And of all things to talk about, the election.”

“I too was shocked. She passes me in the hallway at least twice a day and always has her nose up in the air. She thinks she’s a fancy lady, what with all that jewelry. But I have an eye for those things and know it’s only costume.” I could hear my mother chuckling.

“So what was on their minds?”

“They are very upset about the stocks. Most, like me, in addition to Social Security, have a little invested in Wall Street and they’re worried. They know I have a good broker, George—you met him, no—he has such a nice office where you can sit and have coffee and . . .”

“What else did Sarah say? About the election, I mean. I have to run in a few minutes and don’t have time now to hear about George, who, yes, is very nice.”

“You’re always running off you have so much to do, but I thought you’d want to know that after telling her and her friends that I’m sitting tight, I couldn’t help but nudge them a little about McCain. How he had played a big role in making this mess and how now every day he has a new position on the economy—it’s healthy, it should be left alone, it needs to be regulated, the little people have to be helped. I wonder how he can eat and talk with the same mouth.”

“And?”

“And, when all they could say to me that they’re worried about their Social Security and medicines and how much the Early Bird Special is at the Inverrery Diner, I let them have it but good.”

“What did you say?” My meeting could wait.

“I asked them if they had children and grandchildren. Of course I knew the answer. In addition to kvetching about how much a quart of milk costs all they ever talk about is how their children never visit and their grandchildren never call. Though of course they’re all beautiful and handsome and brilliant.”

“That was good. And what did they say?”

“They just stared back at me like I was crazy. So I said again, ‘You all have young families but all you talk about is yourselves. If I hear one more conversation about Bingo or what’s for dinner or bowel movements I’m going to have to kill myself.’”

“I love it. And . . ?”

“Sarah’s best friend Yetta chimed in and said with that sneer of hers that I hate. ‘What’s so wrong with that? We shouldn’t care about ourselves? You don’t?’ ‘Of course I do,’ I said right to her face, ‘But I also care about my children and their families.

“’Look,’ I said, ‘look at yourselves. What do you see? The same thing I see. People with one foot in the grave. A lot of good the price of Early Birds will do for you then. You’re grandchildren will be left to clean up our mess.’”

“They said nothing so I paused to let things sink in and then really gave them the business. ‘And George Bush’s mess.’ To that a couple of them nodded. ‘And if we do the same thing again and elect this McCain his mess as well.’ I paused again, ‘That is if he lives. And then God help us. Not us, I mean God help our children. Mine and yours. It’s not ours but their future.’”

“I can’t believe you said that mom. Actually, yes I can. You were terrific and . . .”

She cut me off, “But there’s one more thing. The best part. That was last night. What I told you about. Guess what I found this morning slipped under my door? A note, with beautiful handwriting. From Sarah. She was a schoolteacher. Like me also in Brooklyn. We all have good handwriting. They taught us penmanship back then. Not like today where everybody scribbles. We know how to write a beautiful note. At least those of us who don’t have Parkinson’s.”

“Mom, what was in the note? I’ll bet she had a thing or two to say to you. You always tell me what a mouth she has.”
“Not so fast darling.” Now she paused so her words would sink in with me. “She wrote that she was so upset by what I said to her that she couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned all night but when she finally got out of bed at five in the morning she sat down to write to. Let me read to you how she concludes.

“’Ray, it says, I want you to know that you gave me a very difficult night. But you will be surprised to know that I want to thank you for that. You were right. I deserved everything you said. I have been thinking only about myself and my aches and pains. How could I have not been thinking about my own family? You know I even have two adorable great-grandchildren who live on Long island.’ She does have beautiful handwriting. I wish you could see it. Next time you come . . .”

“Mom, please, this is wonderful but I do have to go.”

“’So for them,’ she wrote ‘for my children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren you will be happy to know that I will be voting for Barack Obama.’”

“That’s wonderful!”

“But of course Sarah being Sarah she couldn’t help herself from adding, ‘Though I still don’t like him.’

We laughed together as I told her I loved her, hung up, and raced for the door.