Politically correct has nothing to do with this primary whether you Face the Nation, Fox News or CNN your way to the poles. With a binge like zest we pull up the rabbit ears on the T.V., keep the channel set to the station and disregard the sound of emails coming in.
We heard daggers thrown in a last ditch effort and it was riveting. Now back to “show” business.
My seven years younger baby sister is going to be a first time grandma momentarily. We shared a glorious evening having dinner and watching Tom Brokaw interview Lesley Stahl on her latest publication “Becoming Grandma.” As long time friends often do, the banter was charming. It was hard pressed, to avoid, as the questions filed in that off topic, politically based questions were amongst the index cards. They both addressed them candidly as the 92Y audience sat on the edge of their seats, put tissues away, residues of the topic we came to hear. Lesley Stahl referred to the Donald with a five letter last name. Tom Brokaw quoted a line he read in The New Yorker way back in the 60’s – apparently not a big Trump fan…becomes a victim of the “UFO rule” in politics: at some point , the unforeseen will occur ” and something will tank him. They both pointed fingers at the moderators who have lost control of the debates, by not pressing for answers.
So within our 60 minutes plus evening the 92Y audience got an interview filled with benefits.
And now back to my baby sis. Oh, M-G are you in for the ride of your emotional lifetime. The group listened intently, en masse, as one big, mostly happy family. Lesley kvelled, we sighed. The audience behaved in a phalanx like manner through chest grabbing emotions. The sound of middle age biological clocks fell upon the room. The oxytocin (cuddle hormone) levels were off the charts. Buttenwieser Hall has never felt the likes of this. We waited to have our new (bff) a.k.a Lesley, sign our copy of her book. For my sister Roberta- she signed “about to be a Granny- Soulmate Lesley.” I then hand her my copy and simultaneously take out my phone to show her a picture. I say to her “take a look I promise just one.” It was of our granddaughter’s freshly painted nails from our afternoon manicures. She smiled big as she looked and told me she just shared an afternoon of pedicures with her baby girl. With a Rhapsodic glow we left the evening, holding our autographed books and clutching our chests which cases our beating newly engorged Hearts.