My Facebook status this morning:
“Two days later, I’m still going on about the Bill Clinton speech, how wonderful it was, etc. My Husband’s reply? “Jesus, this is the longest orgasm you’ve ever had.”
I adore Bill Clinton.
(You probably figured that out by now, as my politics ’round here aren’t really much of a secret.)
I adore Bill Clinton (my husband isn’t too bad either) and I always have and I probably always will. Back in the day, The Husband and I stuffed envelopes for Bubba’s campaign; we dressed up as Bill and Hill during an Election Night party; we braved the bitter cold in Washington D.C. on Inauguration Day 1993 just to say we were there.
I love him.
I know, I know … the guy has his faults and plenty of them. Don’t we all.
A saint he ain’t.
Say what you want about Bill Clinton. At this point, people either love the guy or not; he’s not changing any minds after all this time, after all the scandals and the headlines, after all of these years.
But that speech Wednesday night….damn.
The guy is good. So damn good.
I mean, did you SEE that? Did you see what he did up there?
My husband, the presidential scholar (really), has yet to watch Clinton’s speech – or any of the speeches made at the Democratic National Convention, so all he has to go on is what he’s read in the papers and what his swooning political junkie of a wife is raving about. (The DNC was the equivalent of the Super Bowl for me. Thank God we have an out-of-town trip this weekend to distract us because otherwise, I’d be going through major withdrawal. I could watch this every night. I want the Biden-Ryan debates to start RIGHT. NOW.)
I digress. Back to Bill.
While I tried to capture in words to The Husband why this speech was so powerful, I realized Bill Clinton did something Wednesday night that was so desperately needed – not just by the Obama campaign (because, make no mistake, he was needed by them) – but by those of us who lived through the early days of the Clinton administration and who remember what that time was like.
On Wednesday night, for 48 minutes, we got a reminder.
We have short memories. We think that whatever we’re going through right now is the worst it has ever been.
That’s an easy place for me to go to these days. The housing crisis took our entire life savings, everything we worked for over the past 20 years. I’m approaching that point in my job search now where I’m starting to get a little scared and entry-level positions are next on the application list for this overqualified person with 20 years experience in the field. For me, the past 3 months have been the longest I’ve been without a job since I started working at age 15. From what people tell me, I’m doing everything right, this was such a hard decision, I’ll definitely find something soon ….
I’ve been giving serious thought to the idea of starting a business. Part of me has already launched the damn thing and the other part is scared to death to do so. We need some money coming in on my end. It’s hard to be optimistic. It’s hard to believe.
Sometimes you need a little help.
We needed a reminder that we went through tough times before – in our lifetime, not in the black and white photos of the Great Depression that people of my generation never lived through.
And I think people in situations like mine, I think we needed a reminder of what Bill Clinton personally went through too.
They don’t call Bill Clinton the Comeback Kid for no reason. I mean, this is a guy who was IMPEACHED. To have him associated with your campaign in such a way would have once been unthinkable, political kryptonite.
You would have never known that on Wednesday night.
But when he says he believes with all his heart that things will get better, you want to buy what he’s selling, even if you have to use your last dime of your unemployment check to do so.
Bill Clinton made me believe in tomorrow again, if only for a night.
I’m betting he made a few of you believe you could be Comeback Kids, too.
copyright 2012, Melissa, The Betty and Boo Chronicles If you are reading this on a blog or website other than The Betty and Boo Chronicles or via a feedreader, this content has been stolen and used without permission.