#SaveMedicaid Part I

Ok.  It’s time to get real.  I usually try to gloss over some of the healthcare, and advocacy stuff, but with things as scary as they are, that may be pretty much impossible.  I made a vow when I relaunched this blog, that it would encompass ALL parts of myself, and that’s a pretty big part, regardless of how well I may hide it.

Unless you live under a rock, you know that health care is in SERIOUS danger.  The proposed “health care” bill was unveiled yesterday with the new “administration,” and let me just say, I use the term care loosely.  Take a gander at the summary and make sure you have your barf bucket nearby, as it is basically a mass murder bill.

While it’s a dumpster fire all around, I want to discuss Medicaid.  Rachel Maddow spells it out perfectly, as really Medicaid is the country’s LARGEST insurance plan and covers 74.5 MILLION people- mostly women, children and people with disabilities. SEVENTY FIVE MILLION OF THE PEOPLE WHO GOT OFF THE TITANIC FIRST.  SEVENTY FIVE MILLION.  LET THAT SINK IN.

Medicaid is NOT welfare; it is one of the best insurance plans in the country that covers things that private insurance does not cover. Things that are essential for people with any “beyond average” health needs require to be alive… or be in their community instead of a hospital.  These can include wheelchairs, life sustaining IV nutrition, assistive devices or PEOPLE to help with eating, going to the bathroom, communicating, GETTING AROUND.  You know…. Those things most people do every day without batting an eye. 

So here’s where I get real.  This is the first time in my life I have NOT had Medicaid.  I have also had private insurance.  I have a rare genetic disorder, and I rely on IV nutrition to LIVE.  I get 7 bags of IV fluid delivered to my apartment every week.  My love, Owen Reese puts this in the fridge and helps me prepare it every night.  I keep a stock of medical supplies to administer said IV (these all cost money and are not available at Walgreen's).  The cost of my daily existence is roughly between $7,000-$10,000 every two weeks, and this is when I am at my very BEST health.

I could very easily end up in the hospital for an infection because of my disease.  I get frequent Iron infusions.  I get regular bloodwork that costs $1,500.  For now, my private insurance covers most of that (MOST).  Here’s the plot twist.  I work for our state Medicaid program right now.  I can’t get into that, BUT for the sake of irony, it’s important.  IF I lost my job due to Medicaid cuts, since this new bill wants to make blood thirsty $800 BILLION cuts to Medicaid, I would NEED MEDICAID.  If one of us ever had a medical crisis, we may need in home supports to STAY IN OUR HOME.   Here’s the thing I often don’t talk about.  On paper, I am "nursing home level of care," or “hospital back up.”  I would qualify for the program I work on. What that means, is, if all of a sudden, I didn’t have the support, or the ability to care for my own medical condition as well as I do I would need to be institutionalized. Yes, I said it.

When my sister and I were little, our parents wanted to take a vacation and because our needs were too high for “respite,” (which probably was not even a covered benefit under their plan, they suggested my parents “PUT US IN A NURSING HOME FOR THE WEEKEND.”

FOR. THE. WEEKEND.  Two, young, vibrant, independent girls who happen to have a few extra steps due to their medical diagnosis.  This story still grosses me out to this day, that was even suggested as a solution.  Needless to say, my parents did not go that route, and we were fortunate to have the natural supports that we found someone to stay with us so my parents could have some grown up time. 

But I digress.

The point of this is to say, the cuts to Medicaid would be life threatening to thousands of people.  This is not “lazy people living off the government.”  Once you are over the age of 18 this is NOT AN ENTITLEMENT PROGRAM.  You have to apply for it, you have to fight for it, and you have to justify your needs over, and over again.   It is not “free money,” it is not “disability.”  It is necessary healthcare coverage so people with disabilities, and other complex medical needs can maybe be CLOSER to achieving some sort of quality of life when our society is still riddled with obscene barriers every step of the way.

When I was little, growing up, with more medical needs than my family ever thought we could handle? I WAS ON MEDICAID.  When I was in college, trying to further my education so I could have a job, and a fulfilling life as an adult? I WAS ON MEDICAID.

When I was in grad school, working in public health and operating a small business?  GUESS WHAT? I WAS ON MEDICAID.  And guess what?  I pay taxes.  I pay a lot of taxes.  If my health care coverage is taken away so that I can no longer work?  Guess what…. Then I am “living off the government.”  And the government CHOSE THAT.

This is definitely just the beginning of how I feel about this entire debacle, but I needed to begin by setting the stage.  $800 billon cuts in Medicaid is just one terrifying piece of why the proposed bill is unacceptable.

-->

And my story is just one of 75,000,000 that will tell you why. 

#SaveMedicaid

SHARE YOUR STORY NOW!  

Marathon Monday 4/15/2013

One week ago today was our first “Marathon Monday” as residents of Boston.  Not being much of an athlete, I didn’t think much of it.  Then, as I realized it was quite a big deal for the city, I began secretly googling “What does one do on Marathon Monday?”  to see if I indeed, got the day off, or should imbibe with some Sam Adams at an inappropriate hour.

After I gave a speech for Team Hole in the Wall:
 

 however, I was given an itinerary and an invitation to join them at the “cheer zone” near HeartBreak Hill.  I thought the most exciting part of the day would be taking the B line to the other end, and seeing a BC student peeing in a corner of the sidewalk (stay classy BC)….

What I did not anticipate, was this day becoming one that would become a part of history for our city… and our country.

The morning after my speech, at Maggiano’s, a block or so from the finish line of the race, I walked Owen to the T stop to see what the weather was like, treated myself to a sesame bagel and butter pecan coffee at Dunkin Donuts (far better than the Irish Crème, ps) I decided to make the trek and join the camp team in cheering on our runners.

After a series of events, and a broken elevator, Owen ended up leaving his venture to work and meeting me at the B.C. stop on the green line.  We trudged up Heartbreak Hill with Hooptie and Scootie until we found the Cheer Zone.  We quickly donned “Team Hole in the Wall” t-shirts, tattoos, grabbed noisemakers and the day had begun. 

As I sat watching the runners, of all ages, and all abilities, and the crowds that came out to support, whether it was a hoard of college students just looking for an excuse to drink at 9 a.m. or a family with emotional hand written signs of encouragement, this was truly a big event for the city.  I felt such a connection to people I didn’t even know, and felt fortunate that I got to share in this journey of theirs- the result of months, maybe even years of training.

At about 2:30 p.m. the runners began to thin out, and the sun had gone behind the clouds.  “Are you ready to venture back down our way?” I asked Owen.

Owen: “Yea sure.  Do you want to go to the finish line?”

Mal:  “Ummmm, I don’t know, it’s probably going to be a mad house down there, and I haven’t even taken anything out for dinner.  Let’s head home first and see if we want to go out again.”

So we headed back to the B line.  As we boarded the train I got a text from my mom.  “Are you ok!?!?”

Confused, I began texting her back, but my phone rang as I was typing.  “Where are you, are you ok???” she asked frantically. 

“Yea, we’re fine, just getting on the train to head home, why what’s going on?”

The news had just broken.  I hadn’t had my phone out much that day except for the occasional facebook update, but it never occurred to me to keep up with twitter to see if tragedy might strike.

“There were explosions at the finish line.  It’s bad. Where are you??”

I reassured my mother we were fine and hung up immediately to check on the camp volunteers we had planted at the other end of the race.  Everyone was fine, except for witnessing the horrible event, and moments later, we were evacuated from the train and the city’s entire transportation system was haulted.

I called a couple of our “go to people” in Boston just to tell them what was going on and where we were, having no idea how we were getting home or what might happen next, then we just began wandering.  We stopped for a few minutes next to a construction vehicle, and he turned up the news on his radio for others to hear.   They described the scene at the finish line, and I broke down in tears.  “We just have to get home,” I told Owen. 

I asked an officer (or somebody with a neon vest) when the shuttle bus that was supposed to be replacing the train, was arriving, to which he responded “I don’t know nothin’ about no shuttle bus.  All the roads are closed.”  And he spit on the ground.

Thanks sir, for your support in my time of need.

“Let’s start walking I guess.”

Not knowing what else to do, and being in pure fight or flight mode, we just took off down Comm Ave towards home.  The streets were eerie.  Everyone was on their cell phone, crying or trying to comfort their parents who knew they were somewhere at the race.  Drunk B.C. student sauntered back to campus.  One thing I’ll never forget, as we passed a “hydration station” on the course of the race, the entire volunteer team, about 20 people in neon yellow jackets and white hats, sitting in a row, on the ground, silently looking at their phones.  I wish now I had taken a picture, but it’s one of many images that is permanently engraved in my mind from that day.

We kept “walking” and the sidewalks got more broken, the hills got steeper and the wind got more brutal.  Finally, we saw a Best Western and we decided to just hang out there and see who could come get us before we ended up in the middle of nowhere with a dead scooter battery and no cell phones.   The Best Western university let us hang out as long as we needed to and I was able to plug in my phone as we watched the horrifying coverage on the news.

I called Bill, who lives in Cambridge and explained the situation.  Since then, I have mapquested the entire path we took from where we were at the Cheer Zone, to the hotel, and poor hooptie and scootie ventured about 4 miles before we surrendered.  Perhaps next year’s marathon is not so far off.

Bill texted me back that he would find a way to get to us, and they were buying the first round.  I hugged Owen and said, “This is why we’re here.”

After navigating the mess of Comm Ave, we were back in Allston and had a comforting dinner and a few drinks before Bill and Nancy brought us safely to our apartment (with 2 more bottles of wine)

“My god, with everything that has happened since you guys have been here, you’re gonna need them.”  Nancy said as she loaded up Owen’s backpack with a Pinot Noir and Chardonnay.

As the week went on… we did need them.

Now- just to back up a second- I am not going to go into the details of what happened, or link to media or news sources.  Google it.  It’s all out there, more than you probably want to know or see, and regretting some of the links I have clicked in the past week, I will let you view with your own judgment. This is simply my account of the events…

Tuesday, we didn’t go anywhere.  I told Owen as long as there was heightened security anywhere I just wanted to be together.  I needed him there.  I barely slept after the events of the day before and still jumped at the slightest noise.

Wednesday was a better day.  My parents were in Boston, and I was able to have lunch and an early beer with my dad. I have never been so relieved to see my father.  We had a coffee in my apartment (“Dad, it’s 10:00… we need to wait like an hour before we can go anywhere for brunch…”) and I got to show him a bit of our neighborhood before we settled in at Tavern in the Square by an open window.  It was a beautiful day in the city, and it reminded me that we were ok, and things would go back to normal.  Dad and I talked a lot, and he got that scrunched up face he gets when he’s trying not to cry, a couple of times.  I sort of just wanted to go home with them.  But I knew I couldn’t.  Then fear would win.

Thursday, Owen and I both resumed normal activity to the best of our ability.  I participated in a transportation training, which was actually really informative, and another reminder that there is so much good in our city, and people do want to make it possible for people with disabilities to be included, and successful here!  Then I went to the Next Step office, mostly to be around people, and immerse myself in something other than news and worry.  The day ended with some amazing craft beer at our favorite tavern near where Owen works, and a toast to the week being almost over.  Or so we thought.

That night, we went to sleep just after hearing about the shooting at MIT.  Refusing to jump on the mass hysteria wagon I assured my mother that once again we were ok, and passed out into a broken sleep.  My phone continued to vibrate all night and I knew I was getting emergency alerts from BU, but my heart couldn’t take it.  I opened one eye and thought “There is nothing I can do right now, and I just.  Can’t.  I’ll see them all tomorrow.”

Sure enough, what we awoke to Friday morning was NOT what I expected at all.  The entire city was in lockdown to find one individual who they believed to be the perpetrator of Monday’s finish line crime scene. So much for sleeping in.  I didn’t even want to take a shower, in case we needed to evacuate or an officer came to the door.

Let me say-  it is one thing to see all of this stuff on the news.  I am still recovering from 9/11 truthfully, but it is a complete other level of horror to know this happened WHERE YOU LIVE.  We didn’t open our shades that day.  I was reassured when the newscasters explained a lot of the lockdown was so that the law enforcement could focus on the “manhunt” and not have to worry about traffic or other behavior of people just being idiots in general.

But still.  Transition be damned.  Planning and preparation?  There is NO tip sheet for this shit.  We hugged a lot.  I was exhausted but couldn’t sleep.  I made us egg sandwiches but I didn’t want to eat.  We just waited.

After a whole day in the ghost town of Boston, the suspect was discovered, and the whole city breathed a sigh of relief.

We had a glass of wine.  But we didn’t celebrate.  We shared that sigh of relief, but it was also a sigh of sadness.  I have so many thoughts and emotions from this whole week, and it will take me months, maybe years to process everything.

Here is what I do know:

• First and oh so foremost.  Thank god.  All the gods.  Thank whoever you know up there, and whoever continues to look out for us, that we were safe and that we were together.  That we were not at that finish line.
• Social media is such a blessing and a curse in times like these.  I am so glad we were able to instantly update 600+ people that we were home and safe, and I could contact my sister even though she is in another country.  However, it also fuels the fire of ignorance and false security.  News channels, do we really need the general public to weigh in on what we think the motives of these individuals were?  Why are engaging in the mass hysteria?  Let the professionals handle this, and be adults about it.
• Boston kicks some serious ass.  I had been waffling about whether we are meant to be here, and what it’s all about but watching the courage, and love, and sense of community at that race, even before the tragedy.  I dig it.  As horrific as the whole thing was, I am proud to be able to say, years down the road, “We lived in Boston.  We remember what it was like to be on lockdown and to hug and cry when it was over.”  Owen’s nieces might learn about this in history class some day.  These are our stories.
• My heart is confused.  Yes, this man committed a horrible crime.  He and his brother inflicted terror, and damage on hundreds of people, that cannot be denied.  He also is the same age as my baby sister. My heart breaks about all of it.  This is a failed transition folks.  He had a promising future, he made some poor choices. REALLY poor choices, but he is a kid.  Picturing him in that boat just hiding from police, I can’t imagine what was going on in his head.  No, I am not defending him, but good god. I just don’t know…
• As proud as I am of Boston, I am ASHAMED of our country.  When the young man was captured, the streets erupted with celebrations, cheering, and chants of USA.  What?  Do your homework folks… he was a US citizen.  He was a college student, with your sons and daughters and friends!  This was not some terrorist bombing from a country far away, this was a neighbor of yours.  I know that is probably scary to admit, but it’s true.  Just because you can’t pronounce their last name, does that make it different?  What if it were a white man named Mark Smith…. Or Timothy McVeigh.  Oh wait.  Terrorism is terrorism.  Why do we need to play the race card?  So much of what I have seen on the internet, and people’s reactions is full of ignorance and hate, and it is disgusting.  People are saying this young man should not receive health care because of what he did.  Hate to say it guys, but he was a student, there is a good chance he has insurance, and guess what- he is going to get billed like everyone else. How will they have a chance to question him, or him to learn from what he did, if we don’t care for him.  As Boston, the mecca of health care, that is the job of our medical professionals.  We are America. These are not the witch trials.  Remove heads from ass, then speak. Or don’t.

Do I have all the answers?  Hell no. I am simply grateful that all of my friends and and family are safe.  I am exhausted, I’m sad, I’m still a little bit scared, but it will get easier as the days go on. I am reminded ONCE AGAIN that time is short, and we can never miss a chance to say what we are feeling or take a chance.

The biggest thing I have taken away from this week, after the rollercoaster of emotion, fear, hope, strength, this is the journey. Our journey. The moments that make us who we are.  For better or worse.

As that finish line proved, maybe it really isn’t about the destination.

#BOSTONSTRONG

If You Don't Like It- GO HOME.

Before I get into this entry, let me give a disclaimer. I (clearly) do not have any affiliation with the military. I'm not even a fan of war. What I do know, is that for people who are involved in military services, it is so important to them, and I have endless respect for the people who go and fight for our rights and our country. It is with all of that love and respect, no matter your political views, that I write this entry.

Yesterday, I had the rare opportunity and privilege to go see the fabulous Lady Gaga speak at a rally. Politically, I must say my rally days have been pretty minimal, but not nonexistent. I went to the University of Maine at Farmington and was the "token straight girl" among

my friends, which I later just proudly adopted as straight ally. During the No on 1 days, the FIRST time around, I briefly attended a rally, made the front page of the paper, and joked that my activism days were over.

Little did I know.

Since then, things have been mostly healthcare related, and there was Obama fest which was very rally-esque, and was such a rush and a huge shot in the arm to why I do what I do, and that I am actually sort of adopting the title of "activist" even though I was so opposed to it early on.

So, Sunday night, I read on twitter by the Gaga herself, that she was going to be in Portland the following day to speak about the repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Why Portland? that's random....

It is and it isn't. Our lovely Senators are two of the "moderate Republicans" who are often ones that not so much need to be swayed, but are the ones that could ultimately make a difference in a vote (which, frankly- I think is pretty cool) It is the same reason that Obama came, during the high times of the health reform voting. I think at this rate, they may this up, since it means Maine is finally getting some media love! I'm ok with it.

Since my mom is awesome (and a bit of an old hippie herself) she agreed that we could go to the rally.

And. It was. Amazing. Not just because of the appearance of Lady Gaga, who gave an incredible speech, but because of the entire vibe and atmosphere of so many people just striving for that unreachable, Prime Rib we call Equality. Journey played, we laughed, we sang together, we made friends, we talked about Glee. Just in meeting the people surrounding me in that crowd, and thinking of so many people I love that this could affect it just really hit me hard.

Before Gaga spoke, there were other people who had previously served in the military and were discharged because of their sexuality. It just seems so ridiculous to me. As Lady Gaga said, "Doesn't it seem like we're sending the wrong person home? We're sending home the one who does NOTHING wrong, and keeping the person who has hate in their heart instead of commitment and courage like there is supposed to be." And she has a completely valid point.

But as I thought about it. It's always that way. When a child is teased in school for whatever reason, the reaction of the guidance counselor is, "send them to a private school." WHY? Why does the innocent have to leave the environment!?!?!!? Why can't we have consequences for the people with the hate. Why can't we just build tolerance or even ACCEPTANCE?

It seems backwards to me, and I would support the new law Lady Gaga proposed called, "If you don't like it, Go Home." If you're the person who is distracted by what someone does in their private life, and THAT takes away from your ability to serve your country, then maybe that is the person who should step down.

As I'm watching the debate....(on whether to debate...) in another window, I am so proud of our Senator Susan Collins who got up and spoke on these exact points, and saying how much money is wasted on training and replacing these perfectly capable soldiers that are discharged, and that it is not about certain traits you have pertaining to your personal life but can you do the job. We are focusing on the wrong things, once again.

And as for Lady Gaga, well, yes, she has been a controversial artist to some people, but the fact that she took the time to come and speak about something so important, I think is awesome. Who is to say why someone is passionate about a cause. People listen to celebrities. Be as nonconformist as you want, but it's true, so why can't we let those people carry our causes if they so choose? We complain when people are famous and have endless amount of financial resources and do nothing with it.... and then.... we complain when they do? Come on people...

Gaga wasn't even there as Lady Gaga yesterday, she was there as a US citizen, and a person who believes in a cause? So why not? It wasn't just about her, it was about all of those people who fought, who care, and who just want the right and opportunity to take whatever life path they choose.

So yes, I'll say it again, yesterday, standing in that sunshine, singing journey and cheering til my voice was gone, I was proud to be a holder of Maine values. And I will continue to fight for the prime rib that is equality- ALL TYPES OF EQUALITY.

Because... I am tired, of getting by on chicken nuggets and Boca burgers.

Here is a video I took of the day, and also a video of her entire speech, so you can form your own opinions! Love it or hate it, it was pretty cool to be there!

You Barack My World!

So, one would think I would be in bed by now. and I should be. of course. But I'm not quite ready for today to be over.

First of all, it was absolutely amazing weather here, which is perfect because it literally had rained all week, until today, and even was overcast until we got there basically. It was the perfect weather to be standing/sitting in line for about 4 hours with like-minded people, sharing snacks and getting a tan you didn't have to pay for!

By late afternoon it was sort of like a parade or street fair for the political. Reps were there, chatting, people were handing out balloons and pamphlets, and people were getting so fired up. We were told if somebody from "the opposing team" showed up, or we felt there was negativity just keep the peace and start chanting Yes We Can (which we spent a good portion of the time doing anyway)

Around 12:30, as we were told, they did show up. A good number of "tea partyists? Tea baggers?" I don't know. neither term sounds pleasant. But it was very intense as it built up to going in, with them on one side, us on the other, and secret service men between us. But finally we crossed through the barricade, and it was a surge of energy I can’t quite explain, moving forward even with so many shouting against us. We held strong with our golden ticket, to get to what we all came there to see :)

It was actually pretty smooth how quickly they got everyone in and seated (although only about half the people were able to sit... we were like "um hi, Mal can't stand in that crowd, she'll get injured. And need health insurance. Counterproductive." So we actually landed pretty decent seats on the bleachers, which were the "accessible" seats.... really? Bleachers, accessible? I didn’t think that made the most sense, as I saw many disabled and elderly people struggle with climbing the narrow stairs and finding seats on the bleachers. The seats worked for us and we were lucky, because couple hundred with tickets didn't even get in!

The program began (I keep calling it a show… you can’t teach a Broadway dog new tricks) with the Pledge of Allegiance (which I couldn't say due to the lump in my throat the size of my fist... my sister said she never said it during her time at her last school.... but today I heard her say it like her life depended on it), subpar performance of the National Anthem, then…HE WAS THERE. In the same room, in his white shirt and tie, jacket off, sleeves rolled up.

I have heard a lot of speeches of his, but this was specifically for the Maine people. And oh my god, was he funny. He talked about the values of Maine, and how they're real and how it's people like us who take those values of hard work and determination and bring them to Washington... and I got a little pheklempt and was like "well hey. He's talkin' about me."

He took pieces of the healthcare bill and attributed each to a story he had heard from people in Maine, one of which was from one of our very own family leaders, so that was pretty exciting, and it just solidified how real this change was, that he was mentioning people we not only know, but work with, and have been sharing in the journey with.

He explained a lot, answering some questions about the bill itself, made us laugh, made us cry, and it was all over way too soon. But at the end, instead of the hokey patriotic music they play when you're watching it online and he finishes, they blasted Brookes & Dunn- Only in America (country music... which I have a love hate relationship with because it represents everything that is Maine) but it was PERFECT. I have never loved a country song so much. Then was Beautiful Day by U2, which was not only perfectly appropriate, but has been with me in so many other chapters of my life, it just made sense that it was there in that moment. Then came Bruce Springsteen, and it was like we had just gotten free tickets to the best. concert. EVER.

As we were leaving, my sister said, "I needed that so much, you don't even know. I'm inspired." I think I’m going to have an advocate in training by my side. :)

As the music finished, my mom turned to me with tears in her eyes and said. "This is what it's all about! This is the change we've been trying for in all of this." I grabbed her hands and said, "YES!! THIS IS IT!!! DO YOU GET IT NOW? DO YOU SEE WHAT HAS GOTTEN ME THROUGH THESE PAST FEW WEEKS? WE'RE LIVING THE CHANGE." In that moment, they GOT IT.

And for me I think, this was my turning point in the fact that I know I am meant to keep truckin' in this world, and I'm pumped to do it. And something that NOBODY else could do.... that silly president of ours made me PROUD to be from Maine! (I’m only just beginning to admit it... and I'll still leave) But we have a lot of good here (besides the corny lobster t-shirts). We do have our own unique work ethic, and people take care of each other. With all those other people, from Maine, amazed at what we have achieved I was proud, and excited. It was the weirdest thing. I will be one of those people who will bring those values to Washington, but for now, I can nurture them here, and I will keep coming back. I think a part of me will always be a small town girl- and suddenly, I’m ok with that.

As Barack once said, "It is easy to get caught up in the cynicism of what is possible in this country,” but today, sitting there, waving signs with people who share the vision of hope, and seeing Americans of all ages (including the youngest ones who don't even yet know what the word insurance means, but know that they are spending a day with people they love seeing something really big), all generations come together to celebrate victories we HAVE made... today, it was a little hard to be bitter and discouraged.

Not that we don't all get in that place, because it's normal, and I'm sure Obama has days where he goes "Why did I choose to do all this? I'm just one man!!! I want to go home and watch the game!!!"

But he gets up again and does it all the next day and remembers why he does it, and still maintains the energy to fire up every state in this country.

That is amazing!

He gives me hope that, among other things, you and I can go on in ruling Mal world, and maybe even make a difference along the way doing it.

The Speech

Only in America

Yes We Can

The President, my dear, inspiration, Barack(y) Obama, is speaking in my home state tomorrow. Well, I read this on Twitter I believe, and immediately googled, and called my representatives' office (duh, they're my peeps now) and got the dish. It's tomorrow. BUT WHERE? AND HOW CAN I BE THERE!?!?! more googling...and I found my answer!

DUH. GO STAND IN THE RAIN IN PORTLAND FOR AS LONG AS POSSIBLE...AND YOU CAN ATTEND.

SO GUESS WHAT I DID?

I guess some people camped out the night before... but I am not that insane, and getting there two hours before they opened the door was a fair compromise between my dad and I, who is a super champ and braved it with me so I would not have to go alone.
They made the official announcement with all the details on the news last night, and I forced myself to go to bed "early," which then led to finishing Michelle (the other woman) Obama's biography, being even more FIRED UP & READY TO GO and not falling asleep... being like a kid on Christmas Eve, waking up at 3 then finally flying out of bed with the first note of my Taylor Swift alarm. 7 a.m. gross, cold, rainy, and FIRED UP. I cooked myself a delicious breakfast and rocked out to my Yes We Can playlist, and here is what ensued....

Now I know some people "don't get it." And "Aren't into politics." Because, a little over a year ago, that was me. And I would've laughed at people for standing in the rain to see psh... the president. Who cares?
But... I've become a part of it. When I sat on that sunny afternoon, all by myself, with nothing but the capitol building in view, I felt something shift inside me. It mattered now.

When he signed that bill on March 21, 2010, he told stories of everyone who had come to him with their struggles in the "System" and all the stories off all the "youth" and families I work with came flooding back to me and I lost it. I put down my bagel and just let myself cry. It was more than hearing sad stories, but it was feeling that my own was coming to an end.
As he signed that bill with the 22 pens, it was the first time I felt, and SAW visible change, for all the work we have been doing. All those times when we fly home, or have a long meeting and ask each other, "Why do we do this?" Well. THIS is why. Change is starting.
Not just is he an amazing public speaker, who doesn't use note cards and scribbles notes in the margins, and never fails to give me goosebumps, but he is the first person to really reach out to the REAL PEOPLE in this world, as a REAL PERSON and make real change. He rolls up his sleeves when he gives speeches, he shouts back to the people who yell in the audience. He smiles, he laughs, he drinks Bud Light (not while giving speeches... obviously). He is for the people.

And as I stood in that rainy line, I was one of those people. It was the perfect image of the quote he says in my favorite speech, "we are not a collection of red states and blue states. We are the United States of America." All these people had different jobs, were different ages, and came from different places, but we all made the decision to stand in that line in the rain, and climb that hill to see OUR president.

At one point, we were worried we would not get tickets, or that we were too far back in line, and one of the older ladies I was standing with said, "I'm getting discouraged."
And I switched into cheerleader mode and said, "Um no. We will NOT be discouraged. I did not come here to be discouraged!" Hope is not blind optimism! (not that it was relevant at that moment but it was the first quote that popped into mind) and shortly after I heard someone else yell out from farther back in line, "YES WE CAN!!!!"
And we trudged on, with me being the optimist I have grown to remember I am, and one of the feisty ladies looked at me and said, "you're neat!" I smiled and just said, "thanks!"

Finally, we made it to the doors, and after two hours, and being soggy and chilled to the bone. I had the tickets in my hand. I get to see my biggest inspiration speak about why we do what we do, and what it's all about.

and I AM FIRED UP, READY TO GO!!!!

Also- for anyone interested, here is the download of my Yes We Can playlist I keep referencing. If it doesn't fire you up... you may be dead. Check your pulse: http://www.sendspace.com/file/yjcqms