"Well...There's the Problem!"

He is more like his Mom than any of my other children. He is opinionated, yet compassionate, he is strong, and, yet, remarkably weak, he is intelligent, yet questioning….

He has let his opinions fly, in this election year, on the strengths and weaknesses of the candidates, and never fails to bemoan the loss of Hillary.

And, still, I wonder… Does he really know? Is he informed, or merely led by his peer group, as so many of us are?

Upon announcement of the first debate, I made the decision that we would watch, together; as a family.

Days went by in limbo as one candidate waffled on his participation. Around noon today, the call came.

“McCain will participate. The debate is on.”

“I’m cooking…will you join us?”

He accepted, and with that, our plans were sealed.

Long lines, waiting for open gas pumps, precluded my usual entrance to the grocery store. Taking a circuitous route, I found a parking space quickly, and after ending a musically, brogue-laden, political conversation with my professor-friend, I went inside to procure the items I needed to prepare a special dinner.

The manicotti was rich, the salad fresh, and the bread had just the right amount of crunch, as my son questioned his father and I on the differences between “Republican” and “Democrat”. As the meal ended, Roger rose and began to tidy up in accordance with our long-standing tradition of, “I cook. You clean.”.



Accompanied by the sounds of running water, and colliding cutlery, my youngest son leaned forward in his chair, and asked, “But Mom, why are all my friends voting for McCain?”

Holding his eyes with mine, I met his lean.

“I hope it’s because that’s what they believe. Just like I hope you know that we want you to make your own decision.”

Sitting back in his chair, he looked towards the ceiling. That, and the finger he inserted between his front teeth, were his only signs of discomfort.

“You know? I really liked McCain…”, he started.

“Yeah?”, I encouraged.

“Yeah.”, he countered.

“But, I just don’t know about the girl.” He paused.

“I mean, he’s old! What if he dies? What if she has to be President?”

I felt the smile start in my eyes.

“What?”, he asked.

“You get it, Shane. You really get it!”, I exclaimed.

He relaxed against the seat-back as his eyes went, once again, towards the ceiling.

“I am so proud of you! You see the bigger picture. At your age, that’s great!”

Noise from the other room told us the debate was starting. Hurrying, we took our places.

We listened attentively. We remarked appropriately.

And then, Senator McCain dialed up President Reagan.

We listened.

As he finished, Shane’s form rose from the couch where he languished with dog, blanket, and pillow.



“Well, there’s the problem!”, he exclaimed. And with that, he fell back among the pillows. Within minutes, he slept; an old soul.

He didn't watch till the end, but that's ok.

He got the gist of it...

© Copyright 2007-2008 Stacye Carroll