Veganism, Part 2

I am not a nutritionist. And in my past, I was never a subscriber to the benefits of mindful eating. I saw no point in the denial of pleasure while time on earth seemed so fleeting. Frequently, I thought to myself that I very well might reach the end of my days, only to regret the austerity of how I lived. Would I define myself by my indulgences, or else by what I forwent?   

 Whether my diet doomed me to a time on Earth less enjoyable because more afflicted, or else promised me a stronger, more able body, of both I was equally apathetic.

But times are changing. I feel my body changing with the years as they pass. I am less energetic, less able to do what I did in my earlier youth. I have always related this diminished capacity, to the process of aging, and to my own dislike for exercise. If only I left my computer and my books, and took to the world outside, then I might worry my muscles back into usefulness.

Health is like so many things in life: while we have it, we pay it no attention. But as soon as it leaves us, we curse our mistakes and wish for that time back, when the choice of how to live was still within our power to affect. In this way, we live fast. But who would choose to smoke if, when they were still healthy, they could feel even an iota of the pain that awaits them when lung cancer bares down? If we knew what it would feel like to have our teeth pulled, one by one, and finally, to smile a smile of metal and porcelain, would we still choose not to brush, or floss, or visit the dentist every six months?

We hold off our fears by the assumption that we will always feel the way we do when we are young. We can see where our bad habits lead when we look to those older than ourselves, in whose experiences we recognize our own poor judgments. Because we feel different inside, we forget that our bodies are all the same. So, when we see suffering brought on in older people, by the same mistakes we are making, we are eseentially seeing ourselves as we will inevitably come to be.

I would like to use this post to share some facts on nutrition. I gathered statistics and quotations from “The China Study” by T. Colin Campbell and Thomas M Campbell. This particular study is recognized as “The Most Comprehensive Study of Nutrition Ever Conducted”. It has been praised by mainstream publications, including The New York Times, as well as recognized experts in the field of dietary nutrition. I will create a bibliographic entry at my conclusion, for readers to use in exploring any questions that follow.

From the US Census Bureau, the following 2004 data as it is published in “The China Study” (p. 346):

“82% of American adults have at least one risk factor for heart disease”

“65% of American adults are overweight”

“31% of American adults are obese”

“Roughly one in three youths in America (ages six to nineteen) is already overweight or at risk of becoming overweight”

“About 105 million Americans have dangerously high cholesterol levels (defined as 200 mg/dL or higher–heart-safe cholesterol level is under 150 mg/dL)”

“About 50 million Americans have high blood pressure”

“At least 16 million Americans have diabetes”

“Over 700,000 Americans died from heart disease in 2000″

“Over 550,000 Americans died from cancer in 2000″

“Never before has there been such a mountain of empirical research supporting a whole foods, plant-based diet.” (p. 348)

“Animal protein, even more than saturated fat and dietary cholesterol, raises blood cholesterol levels…those who eat more whole, plant-based foods not only have lower cholesterol levels, but have less heart disease” (p. 348)

“[A]nimal protien increases the levels of a hormone, IGF-1, which is a risk factor for cancer, and high-casein (the main protein in cow’s milk) diets allow more carcinogens into cells, which allow more dangerous carcinogen products to bind to DNA, which allow more mutagenic reactions that give rise to cancer cells, which allow more rapid growth of tumors once they are initially formed.” (p. 349)

“Data show that a diet based on animal-based foods increases a female’s production of reproductive hormones over her lifetime, which may lead to breast cancer”. (p. 349)

“Intervention sudies show that Type 2 diabetics treated with a whole foods, plant-based diet may reverse their disease and go off their medications. A broad range of international studies show that Type 1 diabetes, a serious autoimmune disease, is related to cow’s milk consumption”. (p. 349)

“Never before have we had such a broad range of evidence showing that diets containing excess animal protein can destroy our kidneys. Kidney stones arise because the consumption of animal protein creates excessive calcium and oxalate in the kidney…Investigations of human populations show that our risk of hip fracture and osteoporosis is made worse by diets high in animal-based foods. Animal protein leeches calcium from bones by creating an acidic environment in the blood” (p. 349).

“In America, 15-17% of our total calories is provided by protein, and upwards of 80% of this amount is animal-based. In other words, we gorge on protein and we get most of it from meat and dairy products.” (p. 358)

In publishing the above facts to my blog, I do not seek to make a comprehensive argument on behalf of veganism. However, for my own part, enough evidence exists to suggest that diets rich in animal products are unhealthy, that I believe it is only responsible to consider alternatives.

Shortly after changing my diet, I went to see my doctor to ensure that I was not setting myself up for a fall. He ordered a comprehensive blood panel, and two weeks later, I was seated in his office. My labs showed that I had already begun to decrease my cholesterol, and that I was not suffering from a protein deficiency (a popular rumor that vegans must often debunk). Perhaps it was a fluke, in those early months, my body responding favorably to a new diet. But I returned a year later for a second blood taste. This test returned with even better results. My cholesterol was as low as it could possibly be without prescription medication; my metabolism had become more efficient; and my labs all around represented a clean bill of health. What’s more, my diet altered many of my senses for the better. My sense of smell improved, as did my ability to taste subtle differences between foods. When we consume dairy products, our systems process them with leftover mucus. This, in turn, stuffs up our noses, decreasing our ability to pick up lighter scents. Because dairy products are so rich, they tend to coat our tongues and deaden our taste buds to the finer flavors in food. 

I will be perfectly honest. Becoming vegan gave me an excuse to explore food. It gave me reason to care about the intimate relationship between an animal and what it puts into its body. I choose to take many vitamins each day, but I only need one of them (B12) to stay healthy (incidentally, this is the only vitamin not present in vegetable matter; it can be acquired through a pill or through fortified soymilk and tofu).  I do not suffer any sort of deficiency.

We grow up eating meat and drinking milk, little able to influence the diet that our parents feed us. When we grow up, we are at last able to make our own choices. And we do. But rarely is that choice a diet alternative to what you consumed as a child.

If health is your concern, then what’s to lose in exploring the possible benefits of a vegan diet? Considerable evidence shows it is more healthful than a diet of animal products.

While the argument for health was not my own reason for adopting veganism, it nevertheless appeals to those with a mind to optimize their bodies and live disease-free.

Bibliography

Campbell, T. Colin and Thomas Campbell II. The China Study: The Most Comprehensive Study of Nutrition Ever Conducted and Startling Implications for Diet, Weight Loss and Long-Term Health. BenBella Books, 2004.

Veganism, Part 1

As part of my personal campaign on behalf of animal rights, I adopted a vegan lifestyle. Many of my friends now know this about me. Those who do not, remain unaware not as a result of my unwillingness to tell them, but perhaps because they do not conceive of a life nourished on something other than meat and cheese. This reluctance in considering an alternative way of life to the one in which a person was reared, is not uncommon.  Humans seek constancy in all that they do. After all, what are we if not a species obsessed with binding chaos? When the opportunity of change comes by, too often we let it pass. We can tolerate so much upheval in the ocean we sail, but we will never abandon ship, so to speak.

I have, no doubt, at times, been a nuisance to friends and family with my constant invective against the factory farming industry. Those same friends have, perhaps, felt that my own way of life is somehow a condemnation, or at least a disapprobatation, of their own. I assure them, it is not.

But with time, I’ve found myself becoming more pertinacious in my support of veganism, indeed more outspoken. Feeling, as I do, this call to duty, I am always attempting to gain the ear of those who have yet to consider the implications of the way they consume. There are many implications. And it behooves us as a thinking people, to comprehend the consequences of our actions. It is incumbent upon us to own the chain of cause-and-effect that we, ourselves, set into motion.   

In truth, the vegan lifestyle comes packaged with a speaker’s platform. It is intended to agitate, as much as it is to fulfill. I make no mistake that I quite enjoy being vegan, that I am less at-odds with my own heart, which always advises me to do the right (if not the intelligent) thing. It feels good to live out one’s convictions, unapologetically. 

A vegan who chooses not proclaim the cause, is  one, perhaps, who chooses the lifestyle for its benefits to health. I myself, am firmly on the animals-rights side of things. I care little for the fact that an all-vegetable diet is salubrious (though it is), and am more concerned with ensuring that our own species’ contentment does not detract from the contentment of another species.

So many encounters with skeptics of the stubbornest kind, has possessed me to consider that the formulation of a new argument in favor of veganism, is no less than absolutely necessary if the movement is to gain ground.

There are, of course, the traditional arguments. I would be remiss not to mention them. But my objective is not to exercise old ways of thinking. Rather, I believe there is a way of framing the argument for veganism, and more generally, for animal rights, that will appeal to those who have otherwise considered these concerns unimportant.

In parts two and three of this post, I will set forth the more traditional arguments for veganism. In my forth posting, I will attempt to articulate my own, personal reasons and adapt them to the greater whole. By this endeavor, perhaps, people will elevate the cause of animal rights to a higher place in their consideration.

Thought and Feeling

To speak of human nature, is to speak of hypocrisy. Indeed, we are unique in the animal kingdom, a species that struggles to reconcile its heart with its mind. In all other creatures, the heart and the mind are one. But in ours, they are separated. How often have we deliberated when it seems our hearts tell us to do one thing, and our minds something else? Nature itself does not impose that dichotomy; it is the society in which we choose to live that so dictates.

In civilized settings, we are faced with situations that we know to be right, and situtaions that we know to be wrong. But our worldly knowledge and the fear that society will not try us as Nature would, when we decide with our hearts, compels us to err on the side of logic. What results is often a lifetime of action attended by guilt, or some other leftover emotion. In Nature, a feeling is equalled on its other side, by an action. Thought takes no part in the process.

Behold society, in which we think long and hard, and then do what we believe is most intelligent, or most expedient, or most beneficial for the greatest number, though we feel we may be committing a wrong. We ignore what feels right, and we go along with what seems wise. Yet our wisdom is false.

The heart does not lie. It tries its cases more rigorously than does the mind.   

Let us consider a number of situations in which the mind recommends one action, while the heart recommends another. Though, often, the mind wins, consider that the heart is far better a prosecutor of the truth, because of its inability to act falsely, whereas the mind may not be honest, though it can argue a point to no end.

We are told not to lay bare our hearts before we consider what we have to lose. In Nature, there is nothing to lose by being oneself. But in society, we stand to suffer the consequences of our candor.

Imagine a police officer with too much time on his hands, who decides in the absence of more worthy misdemeanors, to pull over a driver on a deserted road. Hours of idling have served merely to intensify his will to throw round his weight. He looks for trouble in the least thing: a broken tail light, a car that speeds just a hair over the limit, a momentary swerve. Perhaps it is nothing by the letter of the law, but it nonetheless catches his attention, because he is bored. It is a car that looks suspicious because its paint is flecking. It is a windshield cracked across. No matter the reason, he asks you to step out of your vehicle. You protest that you have not been drinking, and that you are in a hurry to meet a friend in trouble. But he tells you to shut up, in those exact words. Your heart trembles with anger, and you feel your blood boil. But you must keep quiet. That badge will protect you as surely as it will throw you into the backseat of an esccort. It is unfair. But you must not let your feelings be known. In fact, what you are feeling is the sort of anger that, in Nature, brings animals to clash within an inch of their lives. As a human, you cannot express your sense of unfair punishment, so you must smile as long as it takes to return to your car and speed off. Then you scream to no one in particular, about the travesty of the law, and the way in which it empowers brutes at the expense of well-meaning people.

It is Friday night, and your week has been long. Every day, you woke at 8am, and you didn’t return home until after 7 that night. All that you want is to sleep. Indeed, you have extended yourself to the point of extreme irritability. Just one hour longer in the glass house of your office, and you feel you may tell a customer precisely what you think of his problem. But one prearrangement stands between you and your bed: the plans you made last week, with the friend you agreed to meet after a long lapse between visits. You know that your friend will have much to say about her latest date with a man she discovered online. She will want to remember the trip you took together last summer, in Mexico. She will jump at the first opportunity of renewing an inside joke. Meanwhile, you will prop yourself up on one hand, and you will ask questions and drink from your wine glass, as if you truly wanted to be there. In fact, your body is pained beyond expression, and no measure of liquor would increase the value of your friend’s stories. When she urges you to drink faster, and laughs at what a lightweight you’ve become, you will laugh too (though you would like to smash your glass and overturn the table). You impress your friend with attentiveness for three hours, and when, with this encouragement, she asks one more drink, you find it within yourself to agree. Another hour passes, and you are more than exhausted. Thinking has failed you, but in your heart, you feel panicked. How much longer must you remain? At last, you have finished with reminiscing. You return home, and you collapse into bed. In four hours, your alarm will sound off, and you will repeat the process. But what can you do? Everyone’s got to have friends.

In the forty-fifth year of your marriage, in the second month of the year, on the 14th day, which celebrates your love with paper-heart cutouts and roses and chocolate, you venture out with your partner for an engagement with romance. The chef has prepared a sumptuous meal, and the wine is loveliest of all. Here is the first course, and it is followed by the second, and the third. At last, your spoons have reached the end of a delicious creme brulee, and you look up at one another. Happy Valentine’s Day. But for three hours, you spoke of nothing, save the doughiness of the bread, the creaminess of the soup, the robust flavor of the herb-roasted potatoes. You lifted your bread plate to inspect the maker’s brand. You excused yourself and took five minutes longer than you needed, just to escape the silence at your table. When you returned, you looked around at all the younger couples, and you regretted your life. After 45 years, you have remained, though your hearts are empty of feeling. You have remained because both your names appear in the corners of your checks, because you own a timeshare in Provence, because you are famous on your block for hosting summer BBQs, because there are children, and cars, and pets. You are ready to cry, but instead you smile. As you ready to leave, in a gesture of gentility, you help your partner into her evening jacket. A year goes by, and once more, you are at the restaurant, and once more, there is unbearable silence followed by a smile and a nod.   

These all are examples that speak to our very human tendency to stash away our feelings while we refer action to thought. In essence, we are always faking it with one another. We say one thing, though we mean quite its opposite. And we do this to advance ourselves, or to spare ourselves from certain punishment. We can ignore our feelings as long as the reason is sound. But any reason may be judged sound, just as any argument may exist for things that are terrible, or wonderful, or horrible, or virtuous.

What is right, is not what we argue, but what we feel. Take a moment, now, to consult your heart. Leave out your thoughts, and your human aptitude for rationalization. Instead, take a moment to wonder what you justify because it seems to be the intelligent thing to do.

Do you find that you accept abuse from those who have no right to abuse you?

Do you find you smile when you are feeling pain?

Do you find you condone suffering when you, yourself, have not suffered? 

I say this now, because it relates to our treatment of life, and more particularly to our treatment of animals: because we can argue for something, does not mean we should.

Spit It Out

Last night, amidst others, as they drank from their glasses to the glory of romance, I was reminded of inequality. I had been speaking to my partner in a moment alone, when we were broken-in upon by a friend. This person took my hand and introduced himself, who wished to say hello to the Congressman. Well, of course you do. Now unhand me.

The experience of standing behind while all the world trips upon fame, is not new. Neither is it pleasant.

Some few moments later, I attempted (as I do) to claim some part of the conversation. It was rather like throwing a rock through a neighbor’s window. There was a crash, and then glass rained down with a drastic tintinabulation. I was beheld in annoyance. Well, then, I had accomplished my objective. But when I opened my mouth to speak, and the words came forth, I saw them blinking impatiently. What is the point, boy? Spit it out. Really. I will, and you will be sorry to hear it.

But this sort of thing happens to me all too often. I am not the one with whom to be seen taking a picture. When they trouble themselves to come across the room, it is not for the benefit of ”my” conversation. And etiquette’s guise, which hangs by a thread from their swollen and dastardly faces, is more than enough to persuade me never again to venture out. 

The time I am given to articulate my thought, is less than his, whose station in life is perceived higher than my own. It is inequality at its most unmistakable, when we are given not even the chance to speak, nor the time. But we are thanked to attend, and to provide another warm body. A party is made by the fools who stand with their wine glasses tipping, and the few who ring them with demitasse sterling. Then we run to the trough, and we bury our faces in slop.

Mischief Today

Today is Valentine’s Day. Our hearts hum sweetly with mischief, who is our guest. She is a tender creature whose wings are like leaves, who tricks about a solemn vault, in which are hid our deepest feelings. Bright are her eyes, bright her smile. In long-forgot corners, she gleams upon shadows, that quiver and shrink. And locks we have fastened over doors we have closed, give way to her tempting. Out are the flowers! The eventide sun! The moon in her orbit! The breeze-tossed willow! Shade by the brook, and the bird that sang nightly! Out all, that is kind, that beauty made fair, that our hearts reared in silence. Out now, and for always. 

Happy Valentine’s Day to one and all!

Now and Then

Ah, Youth! What a pretty thing you are, with your hair so careless, and your eyes so clear. You seem to me, the lightest breeze. But so quickly you pass through the garden at noon, so very quickly. And the leaves, and the flowers, miss you when have gone. Where do you sail, when you’ve tired of the season? What garden do you find? Or do you blow further, to some timeless place in the sky, where the stars are ageless?

Now I see you again, rushing about the brilliant springtime verdure. Do I dream, or am I a boy once more?

Sometimes, sometimes I see you, so quietly rocking the boughs of a tree, or fluffing the petals of a rose. Sometimes, you are far from this place, and a stillness reigns down. But I throw the gates wide, and I bid you come back. Come back, and play softly again, your lullaby song. I promise they’ve gone, who cut back the branches, who tamed the emerald grasses, and nursed a nameless tree . They’ve gone forever, if you’ve heard my wish. They’ve gone, but I remain.

Cow Reborn

All the night long, you slept peacefully with the delicate brush of reeds upon your forehead. The cool, damp Earth stretched out below. Above, the dulcet midsummer softened and hushed, with moonlight and breeze. The stars glittered fast upon the tapestry of midnight. Autumn rustled in the trees, and filled your ears with a whisper. Your dream was of life, the glory of waking, and the peace of dreamless slumber. 

Now, it begins anew. You open your eyes, slowly. They are filled with gleaming from the edge of the world. The light is blue, then silver, now pink, now orange, and gold. Yellow brings forth white. At last, it shines with a clarity unknown to color. You lay there, quite still, and hearken to a sound of water. It flows in unseen places, unheard, but by the rocks that stand sentry, unruffled by Time. Now it returns, with mischevious twigs astride its back, and no longer a lusty leaf, but one aged and sere. This gamboling wave, round driftwoods moss-covered, past stands of sweet-fragranced flowers, through redolent mists, flows sometimes in secret.   

When you rise with the day, and you go to that place where the falls leave off rushing, and they plunge into foam, there you gather your yesterdays, and float them away, to where secrets are kept.

Cow

You waken to darkness. In the distance, you hear the slamming of doors, and the harsh sound of metal on metal. Somewhere in this vast complex, the sun breaks through. You imagine it is like a fire, smoldering between the cracks of a window frame, or igniting between the splinters of rotting wood. As quickly as it catches, it is extinguished. The shadows are like shots of water. They blow suddenly, then drip down the walls and onto the floor. You stand perfectly still in that dead center, far from the light, far from all. You have dreamed that night, a dream that never ends. Your life is like the heart that beats within a shadow. You are life still living, but deep in the flesh of a stiffened corpse. None would think to find you here, for how can one live whose life is death? Hope is unknown to you. Though you soul has perished, yet your body will not die. It survives your livelong sentence, the interminable hour that measures out your days from one to another, to another. 

In an hour, a sound deafens upon your ear. It is the steady drag of a weight across the floor. And soon, there is a flash, and another, and another, like the shine of steele in moonlight. An unseen thing caresses your body, at first gently, as if uncertainly. But in a moment, it clamps hard upon your skin, and squeezes. It squeezes until your eyes turn to tears. You long to draw back, but metal surrounds you. Press fast to the walls of your prison. Their shape becomes your skin. You have reached the end, and your body gives way, back into the squeezing, which has not stopped. Many moments go by, until you begin bleeding from a place you have never seen. Your insides seep long into an unknown bucket. One drop. Two drops.  On and on, you are drained to emptiness. Your eyes are hidden beneath the blackest veil, the trembling of your lips. At length, the thing throws you back, and you hear dragging. Then again, the slamming of a distant door and the going out of an unseen flame. You twist to reach your wound, but metal holds you still. Your body is raw in the acrid, early morning air.You are alone at the center of a vast complex, unknown, and unknowable. Who would think to find you here, still living? Do you believe in life after death? Does the body go on?

The Weekend

Pardon me, friends, for this lapse of a moment. More than a week has parted us, and the time has been long. But I return not emtpy-handed! Many were my thoughts of you, and of myself, of the animals, and of life, but I must keep them off even a day longer than this. Too precious were the happenings of this weekend now past, that I must let them be known before all else. You shall understand, even as you read on!

It was Thursday morning, and the sleep trailed from our eyes, not quickly. Dreams stirred still among the more trustworthy images of our alarm clock, our light switches, our drawers, and our cold-stiffened clothes. Here was a day already too long, but a moment from its beginning! We hastened from our bed, and plunged into water. The abysmal morning gave way to happier vapors, and our eyes freshened. Now thoughts bubbled up, and excitement, and fear. Today, we would see Obama, and tomorrow, what? Perhaps nothing. Such is our lot, to wait for what passes, then to wonder at the quiet that follows.        

Little Time cried all the way from our stoop as we left it, to the steps of the US Capitol. When we boarded our bus, she quieted. All around were our new-found fellows: members of Congress, Democrats. What we said, we said briefly, to our colleagues on board. It was as if feeling had given rise to thought, but thought not yet to speech. The siren wailed once, then again, long, loud, and unmistakable. This experience thrills, of taking an escort through dark city streets, rather barreling past and through the usual victims of early-morning traffic. All in our way, stopped. And from within those halted transports, we saw gazing out and upon our stampeding motorcade, the eyes of the spectators! They were drawn in wonder and, perhaps, the merest hint of jealousy. Who rides that bus, whose entitlement is the open road? Their lips needed no words to make clear their message. But I did not trouble myself with commiseration. How many times in my life might I smile from this height, down upon the street I usually walk, from a station more priveleged? No, I would savor the moment as long as it lasted. But I would let it go once more, upon the pavement. 

We landed at the foot of the Washington Hilton Hotel, and proceeded en masse to a ballroom within. And then there were people! 3,800 strong! Heads of State, Ambassadors, Diplomats, the Elected, all assembled in the name of God. Though none seemed humbled. 

We had come to this place, upon the occassion of the National Prayer Breakfast. Here, in it’s 57th year running, it had drawn characters from among the world’s religiously devout; it had attracted society’s camera-ready faces, and those for whom sleep meant less than the glory of attendance. We seated ourselves, and made introductions round the table. At length, though our conversations one among the other carried on, the program began.

Prayers were spoken in the Cherokee tongue, then songs were sung, while we dined on some few morsels of fruit and toast. At last, these appetizers enjoyed to their last, we took to our feet and applauded the arrival of Tony Blair! Somehow, I manged the length of his term as Prime Minister, to miss every one of his speeches. I was not prepared–or perhaps I was better prepared than anyone–to receive the glowing remarks he then offered upon the worldly topic of faith in politics. His manner was exceedingly self-deprecating, the more to admire wisdom when, between moments perfectly comedic, it presented itself unheralded, and gave us pause to recognize truth at its point of utmost distillation. Truth is greatest served by language when language treats it simply. Yet truth with language, is more often the story of a writer’s ego, than of his desire to enlighten. Not so with Tony Blair, who spoke of it modestly.

It was not obvious that Mr. Obama would exceed Mr. Blair in his charm or in his wisdom. But in his remarks shortly thereafter–spoken in the same measured tongue by which we had come to know him as the people’s candidate–all doubt subsided. He is a proud man, as certain of himself as he need be, before the people who elected him. Victory exists in much of what he does and says, but among his qualities most winning, I choose particularly the way he speaks to his public. It is unhurried and steady. All who wish to come along, may yet climb aboard. Time is never too late, so that he who enters belatedly, finds still hanging in mid-air, like fruits shaking from boughs overhead, the President’s words! It is as if those words were spoken not for the many, but for the one. In our contemplations of those words, we are never rushed. We feel that he would never resort to artifice, or that his meaning would somehow escape the bonds of most basic reason. We are complacent, perhaps, but not foolishly.

When time had come to leave, we again boarded our buses, and made way through the city uninhibited, by means of an escort. There, again, were the speechless spectators, who–now suffering the sunlight to expose their widened expressions–seemed that much more aghast at what they beheld. We might have felt monstrous for all the glares we drew. Our transports deposited us on the steps of the US Capitol, where we spent some few minutes before boarding another bus, and finally, a train that would take us to Williamsburg, Virginia.

On account of the size of its lodges, as well as its distance from anything resembling modern civilization, Williamsburg is uniquely suitable for hosting conferences such as the one now fast upon us.  This would mark our second sojourn in Williamsburg since our arrival in D.C. in early January. The first had been a “bipartisan” Freshman orientation. This second would be a meeting of the Democratic caucus on the issues of the day, which are too well-known to here ennumerate. Needless to say, there would be many panel discussions, many presentations, much that is bleak, and more that is famously, Democratically optimistic.

Though it pains me to do so, I will hurry past these details.

That same evening, members (as the elected are called) and their families (myself among them) gathered for dinner, in a grand ballroom. We shared a table with a sparkling company, and enjoyed many wonderful conversations, the last of which ended abruptly, when we heard a voice from the podium. All turned their attention to our Democratic Caucus Chair, John Larson. Amidst remarks that drew equally, the nods and laughter of the crowd, at length, he came to an introduction. It was brief and barely audible above the din of anticipation, and then, as if by trickery, Mr. Obama emerged from behind the stage curtains, accompanied by House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. They fairly paraded down the short flight of steps, with over a dozen persons in tow, and proceeded thence to a spot some few steps out, where cameras awaited. 

In the meantime, we at our table (and, by all appearances, those at others), returned to their conversations. We waited again, and when another voice was heard from the podium, it was that of Speaker Pelosi. Her speech was brief, and soon, she informed the room that Mr. Obama would make rounds to meet everyone in attendance. How thrilling! The room verily exploded with chatter. All at our table withdrew their cameras and readied them for the moment of their lives. It would be the picture to inspire a thousand stories thereafter. It would be proof.

In a crowd of some few hundred, it may well be assumed that every individual would receive his or her visit in turn. Yet I knew, from some unmapped place in my heart, that the President would pass me over. Though I long it to be otherwise, wishing has never saved me from a nature all-too-timid. I am shy to a fault, and very often miss the chances that Fate practically gift wraps on my behalf. So it seemed, my story would always be his who stood three feet from President Obama, but did not shake his hand. 

As he approached, I resolved not even to try, lest I punish an effort with certain failure. He passed within a few feet of my person. I could see him there! But he was moving too quickly, and a wall of people had assembled at his side. My chances were lost, indeed. And I knew I had wronged myself. Already the guilt of missed opportunity, had begun to stifle me. 

I turned away, back to the table, and imagined what conversations would follow. Just then,  Jared grasped my arm and began pushing me forward. I stood at the edge of the throng, amidst shouts from my table to put forth my hand. This I did, and time stopped suddenly. I felt my chest heave with a breath.

The crowd dispersed, and Mr. Obama stood before me. His eyes met mine, and in a moment, we were shaking hands! He smiled and told me the pleasure of meeting me, to which I managed the following (heartbreakingly understated) response: “Mr. President, it’s a pleasure”. Then he asked us–Jared and myself (for we were standing together)–if we would like a picture. Only imagine how great the response in my heart! Yet language cannot convey how joyously I accepted, nor with what readiness. We rushed to his side, and smiled that smile of total shock. Our picture with the President of the United States of America! And a man we admire most deeply, not for his station, but for his character: the same that caught glimpse of a person in the wings, who hoped quietly for a chance, yet stood frozen with ill-confidence.

Indeed, friends, Mr. Obama is the man! He will not forget us, no matter our strengths, no matter our weaknesses.