Senator Kennedy has a brain tumor — I just heard. I felt sad, like it was my “Uncle Teddy”. No matter that I always personally blamed Sen. Kennedy for totally spending the jillions for the gorgeous and expensive Federal District Court in Boston as well as the Big Dig (I was always just galled at the sight of the digging, someone told me it cost $4B). Despite all that, and I don’t quite know why, I do feel sad about Senator Kennedy’s diagnosis as though I knew him personally.
After that, listening to free FM radio in the car, Hilary Clinton came on to campaign — and I felt like it was that girl I knew in high school, the one who used to be president of everything. Someone’s older sister. The one who was writing admission essays for Yale Law during 10th grade free period. The one who wore a suit and carried a briefcase when she ran for class treasurer. The one who wrote an opinion piece in the school paper about having to take Home Ec instead of Wood Shop – the one who was promptly named, “Mother of Her Country” after that in another editorial.
The one who campaigned with a wrapping paper-covered shoe-box of mini kit-kat bars to get people to vote for her. “I’ll work for YOU!” said the box.
Regardless of what I think about the “Clintonian” politics (not discussing that here) I want Hillary Clinton on the national stage — just like the girl who was always president of everything in high school — there’s a certain security in knowing the high school girl in the suit is still running; winning some and losing some. Maybe she’ll get better vending machines or free up some parking stickers or something. And she’s still with that guy who ran around behind her back, what’s that all about?
Sen. Obama seems like that really nice guy who was in your classes since 5th grade, and never really stood out. Maybe my driver’s ed partner, who was careful, and didn’t make any sudden stops — and didn’t overreact to my own failure to brake until the very last second. The one who was friends with everyone, yet no one. The next thing you know, he’s admitted into Harvard Law — making you realize that still waters run deep.
Then I read a blog about technology stocks — and I felt like it was my New Jersey cousin, the one who ran into some kind of legal trouble at his big time Wall Street job, but who is sort of snarky and sort of mumbles about market maker spreads. The one who bought a double breasted black suit with wide lapels for $500, back in 1993 (which we thought was outrageous for a 25 year old to be paying), and a fake Rolex Patek Phillipe. He only owns that one suit. He may not be the most stand up guy, but he knows how the rackets are played.
Not to sound creepy, but I realized that having communication 24/7 makes the world seem, to me, sort of like high school. I mean, except with money. It is the familiar, yet not overly so. I think this may be because on the internet, “authenticity” rises to the top (real or fake “authenticity”).
At any rate, the world is beginning to feel like high school to me, except with money.
Maybe this is one of those social phenomenons that has been researched to death — I’ll check SSRN.
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