Yeah, I remember old Junior's vacation, six years back. 'Cept I'm happy to say that the folks nearby made it a little less of a holiday than he might have wished.
See, we were on "vacation," too. That is, if you put an "E" in front of the word and slip a "U" in the middle.
Our first stop on a month-long, 6,000 mile circle of the country started in the wee hours of Sunday, August 28, speeding west on the wrong side of I-10, bumper-to-bumper at 70 mph with the little red center line reflectors visually screaming, "You're going the wrong way, idiot!"
When we left home, we figured we'd either be back in a few days or, if the storm track forecast of a CAT 4 up the river's mouth held, we'd never see the place again. Our plan was to hole up in Austin and go up the road to visit our president, who was an unwilling host to a few guests that week.
While she's said and done a lot of odd things since, it's important to remember just how powerful a voice Cindy Sheehan had in the summer of 2005. With a simple plea--"Please, Mr. President, come out and tell me why my son died"--she essentially held the leader of the free world and his powerful circle captive in his ranch in Crawford, Texas. He was literally afraid to come out and talk to a grieving mother.
Oh, they'd pop out every now and then. Saw Condi and some folks speed by in a black SUV while we were there. But none of the Junior crowd had the guts and integrity to simply stop and talk to the woman.
By Monday night, they were hiding from another debacle of their own making.
I'm really glad Hanging Up My Tusks wrote to remind everyone the contrast between the current and former presidents' approach to disaster relief. It is a useful comparison.
I just wanted to remind everyone that, thanks to one determined mom and the people supporting her, Junior's "vacay" wasn't quite the day at the beach he'd been hoping for.
Camp Casey, Crawford, Texas
The road to Junior's place
A few choice greetings for the president
Sheehan greets some young supporters
Yeah, ancient history, I know, and the principal did go off in a few odd directions, but she, and another "she" named Katrina, really helped wake the country out of a long, self-induced slumber. I'll always respect her for that.
And for one other thing: When we were introduced, and she heard we were from New Orleans (this was Tuesday, I think), this woman, still grieving her pointlessly-killed child and juggling a media circus, shooed away everyone else, grabbed GF in a big hug, looked in her eyes and asked, "Are you alright?" As if two people who'd been fortunate enough to have a car and the means to get free of the ever-expanding nightmare in the city, were the ones who really needed support and comfort.