Anne’s Diary (Page 95)

Unlike Whitley, I voted for a Presidential candidate, because I?m in the same situation that most of you are: I don’t know the candidates personally and I feel a need to vote for somebody. I share Whitley’s concern that Bush and Gore may have personality problems, because in today?s climate of scrutinizing and finger pointing, what sane and normal person would run for political office?

I was reminded of this during the Clinton scandals. At the time that Lewinsky fever was sweeping the media and causing old friends to disagree so violently that they stopped speaking to each other, and when parents ran to turn off the nightly news lest their kids receive an unintended sexual education, we buried a dear friend.
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I was cleaning out a cedar chest today, when I found a photo of him. I hadn’t thought about him in a long time; he was my first.

I could feel my heart beating faster as I gazed at the photograph. He’s the reason why I’ve been so hesitant to commit myself again, despite the fact that my friends tell me I’ve got to put the past behind me and get on with my life.

I wasn’t at home when he first arrived. I was on a Christmas vacation trip to Disneyworld with my son, then five. When Andrew was tucked into bed at night, after a long day of Disney, I would go to the phone and whisper covertly into the receiver, “Is he there yet?”
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In political times like these, I become wary in social situations. It’s not just that I’m more liberal than most of the people in this town; it’s not as simple as that.

Most of the political conservatives I know are pretty comfortable financially. Perhaps they worked hard for it, perhaps they deserve it, but they don’t seem too concerned about those who are less well off.

I can be pretty conservative at times, myself. I cringe when I think about all the crazy, expensive schemes that the looney left has come up with. I cringe even more when I remember how many of them I supported in my youth.
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Last week I had the kind of experience I’ve had many times in the years since Whitley wrote Communion. I talked to some people I’ve gotten to know recently and heard some extraordinary stories.

Like most of the folks we meet every day, these people could be described as ordinary. One of them confessed that after he started photographing strange craft, he developed a triangle-shaped injury on his arm after a night when he slept deeply, almost until noon, although he’s usually up at six every morning. He showed us the injury.
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