Four years ago, former President Clinton called me to suggest that I vote for his friend, Barack Obama. Naturally, I was pretty impressed with myself that Bill would take time out from his busy, um, former-presidenting, to call me and chat about the upcoming election. Well, I guess it wasn’t really so much a chat as it was a monologue since Bill wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise and wouldn’t even answer me when I asked him if he was still bitter at all about Barack beating out Hillary in the primaries.
I thought we had the beginning of a great relationship. But then I didn’t hear from him again for four years.
Then, out of the blue, he called again.
“Hi, this is President Bill Clinton” said Bill Clinton
“OMG Bill, I can’t believe you are finally calling me back!” I shrieked. I covered the phone and yelled to my kids, “BILL IS ON THE PHONE!”
“Bill who?” They wondered.
“Pfft. Clinton. Of course,” I said. “What other Bills are there?”
“I want to apologize for disturbing you but there is an important choice you need to make this coming Tuesday,” he said.
“Not a problem,” I said. “I was just folding socks and making some Chicken Enchiladas. I made plenty… do you want to join us?” I figured if the guy felt friendly enough to give me a call, I could certainly invite him over for a bite to eat.
I guess he wasn’t hungry though because he didn’t respond. Must have had other things on his mind.
“Four years ago we started the movement for change. Now we need to keep it going,” he said. “That’s why I’m asking you to vote for Barack Obama.”
I rolled my eyes. Why do these presidential types always call me about politics? They must have me confused with Maureen Dowd.
“Who’s on the phone?” asked my husband.
I covered the phone with my hand. “It’s former President Clinton,” I whispered. “He’s calling to ask me to vote for Barack Obama.”
My husband stared at me.
“You know that is an automated phone call,” he said.
“Nah-ah,” I said, waving him away. I turned back to the phone.
“So, Bill, are you an Eagles fan or are you rooting for the Giants?’ I asked him, winking at my husband. I figured all guys like to talk about the sports. But he just wouldn’t get off the subject. Obama this and Obama that. Get out and vote, yada yada, thanks, bye.
And then he hung up.
“So, how was your conversation with Clinton,” asked my husband snidely.
“Brief,” I said. “But I’m sure he will be calling me back.”
“Really?” Responded my husband. “When will that be.”
“In about four years when Hillary runs.”