Running when told to walk
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Monday, February 17, 2014
Writing Sample and Map
Hometown Hero
I am not very politically minded. I don’t inform myself as to what exactly goes on in Washington D.C., because that stuff never interested me. But, I’ll never forget the one time a U.S. senator paid me a visit. For a 10-year-old living in Moultrie, Ga., there was never much to do. When you got out of school you either went home, to the Y.M.C.A. or got into trouble. I was one the few that always went home. If home was being defined as wherever my parents were.
The world was too dangerous for me to stay home alone, so I
was forced to stay at the family owned nail-salon’s break room or front desk
until it was time to go home. It wasn’t that my parents didn’t trust me; they
just didn’t trust anyone else. So my friend pool was limited to my hours at
school. Mondays through Fridays I would come home from school at three and sit
out at the shop till eight, Saturdays, nine to seven. All ever I did was either
hung out in the break room with the basic cable package or play on MySpace. On
some days when the fumes of rubbing alcohol and acetone got to me, I would
stare out the window and wonder why I couldn’t just be like the normal kids my
age and have a life.
Then one day I saw it, the one perk of sitting in a nail
salon day in and day out inhaling fumes and listening to the chitchat of
middle-aged women. For years of providing a service that is not common in a
town 30 minutes from I-75, my parents accumulated numerous of interesting
characters and loyal customers, including Julianne Chambliss, wife of U.S. Sen.
Saxby Chambliss, R-Ga (http://www.chambliss.senate.gov/).
Even though I am not politically minded, I found a joy
moment when Mrs. Julianne, the name she told me to address her by, would come
in for her biweekly appointments. I would ask her about her husband and she
would ask me about school, but beyond that, our conversations got boring real
quick. So yes, though trivial and, when repeated, a bit tiring, the information
exalted became sentimental because I think it was the thrill of just knowing
some one who was married to someone famous that was exciting. The sense that
someday she might come in for an appointment and her husband would be right
there with her.
As months went by, I kept seeing Mrs. Julianne, but with
Senator Saxby. Then the day came. In July 2004, I was 10-years old sitting, in
front of the computer, so enthralled by YouTube videos and flash games I wasn’t
paying any attention to who or what came through the front doors. Mrs. Julianne
came in, and we had our usual conversation. Then she asked me if I would like
to meet the senator. I just sat there and stared blankly. She took it as a yes
and called her husband to come meet her.
He came in with a smile on his face, shook my hand, my
parents took our picture, and he told me to grow up to be a politician, as a
joke. He stuck around, talked to my dad until his wife finished. I doubt the
senator remembers that day, but I’ll never forget it. I don’t know why we as
humans obsess over celebrities, politicians and car accidents, but I’ll admit
there is a thrill in knowing someone famous. I boasted for days.
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