Notes From The Steps
Love And Madness From The Idaho Statehouse
I don’t fear people for their religious beliefs, but I do fear them when they are idiots.By Joseph Friedrichs, 1-18-10
Down trying to plan. Photo by Joe Friedrichs.
The folks were friendly. Both men and women alike shared grace and seemed very supportive of the general cause. What the cause was, nobody really knew. And therein rested the problem.
I spent about an hour Monday morning near the front steps of the Idaho Statehouse, where an estimated 350 members of various conservative groups came together for a long rally with speeches from legislators, religious leaders, and Republican candidates for office.
It was a fine event and nothing remarkable happened to the masses other than hearing routine speeches and words being tossed around like rag dolls. What happened to me is that I had the fear of God slapped into my guts.
For example, some moronic woman approached me and kept staring at my chest. I was wearing brown hiking shoes, black jeans, a gray sweater of sorts and an old blazer. Attached to the blazer was my media badge.
I gave the woman a stare of recognition that she was bothering me.
“Oh,” she said, “I was looking at your badge there. Joe from the media.”
“That’s what it says,” I told her.
“Just like Joe Smith, but with a camera,” she said.
“Something like that,” I responded.
I instantly moved away from the woman. I don’t fear people for their religious beliefs, but I do fear them when they are idiots.
Next came a man wearing a red hat with the words “Once A Marine, Always A Marine” stitched to the top. He was an old man with white hair and blank eyes.
“You know where to get a good burger around here?” he asked.
I explained I had only been in town for a month, but that something good should be available within walking distance. Then I noticed he, too, was staring at my chest. (Was the press pass glowing?)
“Ah,” he said, “Joe the Plumber?”
I considered the Joe Smith remark. I considered my wretched financial standings. Move on, keep upbeat, I thought.
A woman nearby held up a large sign with the American flag on it. The sign stated: “Bankrupt of America.” I put my head down and considered weeping right there on the spot. Instead, I looked around. That is my job; to look around.
“Read a book guys,” the woman holding the Bankrupt of America sign yelled.
Beyond my control, tears swelled in my eyes. Idiocy does that to me.
Naturally, I considered moving away from the situation to maintain whatever dignity I had left. My body started to move and I smelled cigarette smoke. It hit my nostrils like a kick to the boys. I turned to check the source of the smoke and there she was: A beautiful woman of about 25 years of age. She wore glasses and I loved her instantly. I wanted to promise her great promises. Life is going to be beautiful for us, I would explain. Ah yes, how it is going to be so beautiful.
I shook the nerves and approached her.
“May I ask what kind of cigarette you have?” I said.
“An American Spirit,” she said.
I stood there saying not a word.
“Can I ask why you asked?” she said.
“I am working on a story,” I told her. “This is part of the story.”
“Okay,” she said, with a light laugh. “Yeah, funny smoking an American Spirit right now, you know?”
“I don’t get the link,” I said.
She explained how we were standing in front of the Statehouse, listening to people discuss America, life, race, social injustice, liberty, goodness, Idaho, the future… and on and on.
Well, I thought, it might be time to take up smoking.
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And when irony slaps you in the face...it still doesn't wake you up.
This is a new policy and it will be strictly applied. We want only civil discourse here at NewWest.Net/Boise, and will no longer tolerate anything else.
I do wonder about the writer's capacity for irony (association? allusion?) though. The wafting American Spirit could have been handled in a much more interesting fashion.