John McCain

John McCain

In a gas station, heading home. An older man, doughboy-belly stretching white T-shirt tucked into green cargo shorts. A little wobbly on his feet, turning with effort to sideways through a narrow spot by the newspaper rack. Talking at first I thought to the far-off clerk and then I supposed perhaps the air and finally as thick stubby-nailed pointer bends upon McCain’s face I realize it’s me sharing this heretofore eyecontactless conversation:

“When everyone in both houses was working to stop Obamacare, he’s (here falls the heavy finger on the pale wide-eyed face) the one who stopped it!”

Complaint? Complement?
I wasn’t 100% clear on the angle, though the gruff, emphasis-rich delivery suggested the former reading a bit stronger than the latter. Whatever his meaning, the facts checked out, so I nodded once with a clear firm non-committal “yup”.

I woulda, coulda, shoulda said:

“Yes, we need more politicians willing and able to search themselves for real and then do what they believe is right.”

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