Meet Me in the Basement

I wonder if there is anyone out there reading my blog or if I’m still just talking to myself. My children scoff at me. “Mom, no one reads your blog. They don’t know you exist.” Ungrateful progeny. At least a couple people read my blog, counting my husband. But I figure I have to start somewhere. If I build it, they will come, right? If you are reading, please tell someone else about it.

In Barack Obama’s book The Audacity of Hope, he describes his first forays into politics. When he began his campaign for the senate, he went all over the state to meet people. No one knew who he was. They couldn’t pronounce his name. He met with anyone who turned up. Sometimes no one turned up at an event to meet him. He tells about one place he visited where a truck driver and his wife came to the basement of some church where he had scheduled an event. They were the only ones to turn up. He sat down with them and talked for a couple of hours and he says he learned a lot about what regular working folks want from government, what their needs are, and what they think about things. That was many years ago. This year Obama won the Iowa caucus. In the beginning, the basement. Next year perhaps the White House. (Or will they call it the Black House if he wins? Someone must have made that joke already. I can’t possibly be the first.)

So here I am, sitting in the basement, talking to whomever turns up. While we’re down here, did anyone bring chocolate?