Sitting in a quaint mom and pop truck stop in I-dunno-the-name-of-this-town, IL, I felt bad about not eating well last night and so assuaged my guilt tonight with hot apple pie and ice cream. After some thought, I remembered which state I slept in last night, but I couldn’t tell you about the previous nights. That’s one of oddities of this line of work; the days become a blur of activity where places and faces merge together in a constant stream. Averaging around 2,700 miles per week, certain events are etched in my memory, but I can’t always tell you where they happened. I’ve awakened in the morning and been unsure of which state I’m in, other than the state of confusion, I mean.
But even in that fog of highways, cities, country side, I know one thing for certain. I know that I did not serve in Vietnam, which sends any political aspirations I might have had in Connecticut down in flames. In fact, looking at the headlines today (the President’s approval numbers tanking even as Gov Deval Patrick says that those who disagree with Obama are coming close to sedition, while Patrick Kennedy says that Arizona’s attempt to secure its own border violates the spirit of the Constitution), suddenly my own confusion seems minor. In fact, compared with the general confusion many of our politicians display, even Chicago traffic makes sense! Back to the apple pie…
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