The Lone Ranger, but no Beto T-shirt

Unless one lives outside of the U.S., I’d be willing to bet that they’ve seen a “Beto for Congress” t-shirt. Beto is a junior state congressman from El Paso, Texas, who’s running for the U.S. Senate against Republican incumbent, Ted Cruz. And while I live in Florida, I’m a huge Beto supporter. I really want, nay, need a Beto t-shirt.

On Sunday afternoon my son, grandson, and I attended a concert/rally for Democratic candidates in downtown Dallas. I just knew I’d be able to buy a Beto t-shirt during the event.

The rally began at 2 p.m., but the three of us figured that Beto wouldn’t speak until near the end of the night. We spent the morning going to estate sales, went out for brunch, and then took a short siesta before driving to the concert around 4:30. Finding a parking place wasn’t difficult, but we had quite a hike from our “$10 a day” parking lot to the park where the concert was in full swing.

Jason had loaded a backpack with a blanket to sit on and we all took umbrellas since there was rain in the forecast. Unfortunately after we walked all the way from the parking spot we encountered a sign telling us that backpacks weren’t allowed. Grandson Jackson and I went to the end of a long line of concert goers while Jason ran back to the car with the backpack.

As Jackson and I waited in line a guy came by asking if anyone had extra tickets. The folks in front of us happened to have a pair and he bought them.

My brain said, “Huh.”

“Is the event sold out?” My mouth asked.

“Yep. Right as we arrived they put the signs up.”

“Well crap,” said my brain.

I instructed Jackson to hold our place in line while I went in search of spare tickets. I only needed two since kids’ admissions were free. I tried my luck behind us first since the guy who scored the tickets in front of us had already tried that direction. Nothing. So I went to the front of the line hoping the guy had been mistaken. Nope. The event was indeed sold out.

I texted Jason, and went back for Jackson who was nearing the front of the line. We stood near the press line figuratively beating ourselves up for not purchasing tickets in advance. Then, just as I noticed Jason crossing the street to join us, a young man came around the press barrier.

“Here,” he said. “I heard you needed a couple of tickets.”

When I tried to pay him, he refused to take the money and disappeared back into the press area with a wink and a smile. He was like our knight in shining armor, or the Lone Ranger. Hi ho, Silver!

Jason, having just read my text about the concert being sold out wasn’t expecting to see Jackson and me smiling from ear to to respective ear as he approached.

“He just gave the tickets to you? What did he look like?”

“Like the Lone Ranger, my son. Like the Lone Ranger.”

Our little group then made the rounds of all the booths in search of Beto merchandise. Unfortunately, though, like the event tickets, the Beto t-shirts were all sold out. And this time, no Lone Ranger to help out. I managed to buy this one at a booth promoting the band, Polyphonic Spree:

But I was in search of one like this:

Finally I gave up, had a Shiner (a wonderful Texas beer), a gourmet slider, and enjoyed the rally. And what a rally it was! Beto was the main event, though, and he did not disappoint. He’s running a positive grassroots campaign, never once mentioning his opponent by name, and refusing to accept money from political action committees (PAC’s).

Beto has visited every county in the sizable Lone Star State at least once and several multiple times, speaking sometimes to a handful of people and other times to groups of thousands. Texas has long been a “red” state, but Beto has a chance to upset that apple cart.

I will wear my alternative shirt proudly back in Florida. My only regret is not being able to cast a ballot for this young man in November.

Peace, and hi ho Silver, people.

What a Great Day!

Monday was about as perfect as a day could be. I’m too pooped to write much, so instead, using a series of bullet points and emojis, I’ll share my experiences:

  • Dressed in my πŸ‘™ and a long πŸ‘š
  • Drove to the post office to mail two πŸ“¦ πŸ“¦
  • Cast a πŸ—³ for Gwen Graham for Florida’s governor in the Democratic primary
  • Drove to St. George Island 🌴
  • Ate yummy scallops at the Blue Parrot 🌊
  • Set up a chair on the πŸ–
  • Watched 🐬 🐬 frolic in the 🌊 🌊
  • Ran into πŸ‘©β€πŸ‘©β€πŸ‘§β€πŸ‘¦ from Tallahassee on the πŸ–
  • They gave me a bottle of πŸ’¦
  • Visited with a nice lady from Georgia who shared her β˜‚ with me
  • Got a bit of 🌞 on my lily white skin.
    Ate 🍦on the way home
    Showered and petted two anxious 🐱 🐈 upon returning 🏠
    Getting ready to eat dinner with a🍴
    Really must go now, so I can chow down, but there’s no emoji for leaving. There is for πŸ‘‹πŸ» πŸ‘‹πŸ», though.
    ✌️ , people!

Hillary for President

  
A couple of days ago I posted the following essay on my Facebook page. As essays go, I’ve written better, but several friends asked me to share my thoughts with a wider audience. So, here you go. 

I’m a Liberal. I haven’t always been. In fact, I once was a staunch Republican. I voted for both Bushes, Poppa and W. 

I did not support Bill Clinton, but, I was always impressed by Hillary. Her fight for health care reform sparked something in me. You see, I’d always been fortunate to have access to good insurance through my husband’s job–until his job was “excessed” during the deregulation of the natural gas industry and we found ourselves at the mercy of a health care system that doesn’t value those on the fringes. 

Now, I wasn’t ready to leave the GOP then, but I was beginning to notice the blatant inequities between the “haves” and the “have nots.” While my family had never been wealthy, until those bleak days when we didn’t have access to good insurance, I’d never had to worry about falling ill and losing everything we’d worked for. Still, I believed I could work within the party to fight for women’s rights, for equal pay, for health care reform.

Sadly, it took Sarah Palin for me to see what a backwards institution the GOP had become. Not all Republicans believed the stupid things she spouted, but enough that I became certain that I could find a better party in which to place my trust. 

I voted for President Obama in 2008 and I’ll never regret that decision, even though I suffered heart palpitations while doing so. I voted for him proudly in 2012, convinced that he was the best man for the job, and he has never let me down.

Now, on the verge of the Democratic Party nominating the first female candidate for the highest office in the land, I’m so very proud to say I’m a Hillary supporter. I cannot believe that the party I once supported has devolved into one that embraces racism and hate, but the GOP’s nomination of Donald Trump has proven that to be true. Trump will not make America great. He only knows how to make Americans hate.

This is me, and I approve this message.

Peace, people.

Debate

For the first time in my adult life I’m watching a debate in the company of people who have similar political views. I’m pretty vocal, so it’s gratifying to be around folks who are just as vocal, and perhaps more so, than I am.

Bernie Sanders seems to be a big favorite in this crowd, with Hillary Clinton a close second. Thunderous applause breaks out at their every word. I feel sorry for the remainder of the pack, for hardly any applause at all comes their way.

I have a strong sense of fairness, and it seems as though moderator Anderson Cooper hurries the other debaters along, barely noticing their contributions to the debate; although, to be fair, I’ve had several glasses of wine.

  
Who will emerge as the debate’s winner? I love Bernie, but I’ll confess, any of these guys would be preferable to anything the Republicans have to offer.

Peace, people!