My son met Declan at the Rose Lane School years ago. Declan's a fiesty little guy with leg braces, probably the same disorder as Ronan Tynan, the Irish Tenor. Anyway, his dad stops by to pick up Declan one evening, and we're chatting in the kitchen. It turns out he's a Democrat from New York (everyone in my neighborhood seems to be from New York) and a professional organizer. Imagine a professional Democrat trying to make a living in Arizona. Not as crazy as it sounds, because he's just helped Janet Napolitano get a elected and is about to be named leader of the Arizona Democrats. The conversation turns to politics and he says I really need to come to a fundraiser the next night. They have a guy from Illinois named Barak speaking. I can feel my pocket being picked. "You have to meet him," he says. "He's a real rock star." Last time I went to one of these events it cost me $1000 to shake hands with Dick Gephart, and the candidate Gephart was promoting lost to J.D. Hayworth, a sports talk show guy. I said I had to coach soccer practice that night. It was the truth. That's how I didn't get to meet Barak Obama, and too bad because it would have been money well spent. Declan's dad ended up getting rid of Hayworth, the jerk, and my brother's neighbor, Kathleen Gilligan-Sebelius, got a new job along with Janet Napolitano, the opera buddy and proteje of our favorite priest from Chicago, Ed Ryle, who baptized my son.
Athbhliain faoi mhaise dhuit!
