Get your political fix from an unrepentant political junkie.
July 29, 2016
It has taken me seven days to form some words to discuss the overwhelming experience of attending a Republican National Convention. Many of you are curious what the inside politics were — the internal division, the undercurrents, and the wheeling and dealing on the convention floor.
That will have to wait. Plenty of ink has been spilt on those topics.
My purpose here is to share the healing powers of Elvis Presley. You may be dubious, because surely 39 years after his passing from this life, how can Elvis assuage my pain?
My answer to your question is Rebecca. Rebecca (not her real name) was the bartender on the mezzanine floor set up especially for us conventioneers. I don’t know Rebecca’s true political leanings, but she seemed sympathetic to mine. Either she commiserated or she was polite enough to let me think so. In the presence of others, who disagreed with me, she occasionally would chuckle or spontaneously let slip a “uh-huh” in agreement.
The marble-laden former city bank converted into a Holiday Inn Express provided us guests with luxurious accommodations. I reveled in the square whirlpool bathtub and spacious room. The dedicated staff and management were focused on making our week in Cleveland as comfortable as possible in the limited capacity in which they could serve. (They did not have a time machine, for example.)
The maid staff honored my “Ssshhhh” door hanger, but called twice in the week to check on me. Their timing was ideal.
Back to Rebecca and Elvis. After four nights of sitting down to rest my weary feet and burdened heart in the mezzanine, I was the lone patron on night five at Rebecca’s counter. I wandered down the stairs, interrupted her reading a book (seriously, no lie), and she asked what she could do for me. I replied, “Play me something sweet that makes me happy.” Not knowing that I had toured the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame that day and sat with glee listening to and watching Elvis’s live performances, Rebecca set her Spotify to Elvis Love Songs. The healing began within three notes of “Love Me Tender.” Then, she fixed me her special concoction of lemonade, and we chatted about non-political life.
Maybe the healing powers are due to Elvis’s timeless vocalizations. Maybe Rebecca reminded me that regardless of who the president of the United States of America is, we have our own personal lives that are beyond his or her reach.
God bless America.