Herbert Walker. The memory of those two initials overlaps my life more than the life of the man to whom the namesake belongs. Odd. It’s bizarre what I remember and how I remember political relics of my past. I remember George Herbert Walker Bush. From Saturday Night Live reruns, featuring Dana Carvey to all those Houston Astros baseball games; I’m not sure how I remember him. Seeing him on television at a young age. Hearing my parents sing praises of him and his political party.
What did he do? Republican. Dan Quayle. I remember Dan Quayle as a loon. A fraud amongst political finks, slinking around, hobnobbing with door knobs and platforming on roller skates. How did they get there? Wake up. Run for local government. Go to sleep. Wake up the most powerful leader in the free world.
Is it just us that thinks that? Does every country believe their leader is the most powerful leader in the free world? In Texas, we’re taught the Alamo is bigger than the Boston Tea Party. Marvin Zindler. Slime in the ice machine. Houston, TX. Growing up I knew Marvin Zindler. Seeing him on television every night. My mom saying “Slime in the ice machine,” over and over. I knew Marvin Zindler. The most powerful leader in the free world.
Bill Clinton I remember. The blue dress. The laughter. The saxophone. The laughter. The assault. The laughter. The re-election. The laughter.
His daughter. His wife. The most powerful leader in the free world. Democrat. My mom rolling her eyes. My mom disgusted. My mom hating eight years.
I’m 14. Another President Bush. No Herbert, just Walker. Clock in. 9/11. President Bush. Another war. Another Bush. I remember. The laughter. I remember laughter. I remember anger.
Dick Cheney. Evil incarnate. The most powerful leader in the free world.
Barbara. Laura. Hillary. Michelle.