Have you ever dropped by the local coffee shop and ended up chatting about college football with a fellow customer?
Has that customer ever just happened to be a FORMER PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES??!
That's what happened to my husband this morning.
Tim heard a rumor from his coworker that Bill Clinton was at a coffee shop across the pedestrian mall from his office, grabbed a print of a photo he'd taken of Clinton at an appearance a few months back, and strolled over to see if Mr. President (of the good ol' happy, prosperous, Iraq-war-less days) was indeed there.
In the shop he found a couple of Hillary's campaign workers, what appeared to be a few Secret-Service'ish fellows, and the Man from Hope himself. Tim walked up to him, said he needed to take the opportunity to shake Clinton's hand, and within minutes, they were sitting there yakking about the Missouri Tigers' and Arkansas Razorbacks' wins last weekend. I'm actually glad it wasn't me who ran into Bill. I'm not sure I would've been able to string two sentences together. Certainly not about Razorbacks football.
I don't know whether this brush with greatness (and in my book, he will always be one of our greatest leaders, regardless of interns and cigars and such) has earned Hillary a couple new caucus supporters. But it sure made our day. And I wasn't even there. I live vicariously through Tim's story. And the autographed photo he's bringing home to show me tonight.
And the hand that touched the HOB (hand of Bill) that Tim's promised not to wash. Just for me.
Has that customer ever just happened to be a FORMER PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES??!
That's what happened to my husband this morning.
Tim heard a rumor from his coworker that Bill Clinton was at a coffee shop across the pedestrian mall from his office, grabbed a print of a photo he'd taken of Clinton at an appearance a few months back, and strolled over to see if Mr. President (of the good ol' happy, prosperous, Iraq-war-less days) was indeed there.
In the shop he found a couple of Hillary's campaign workers, what appeared to be a few Secret-Service'ish fellows, and the Man from Hope himself. Tim walked up to him, said he needed to take the opportunity to shake Clinton's hand, and within minutes, they were sitting there yakking about the Missouri Tigers' and Arkansas Razorbacks' wins last weekend. I'm actually glad it wasn't me who ran into Bill. I'm not sure I would've been able to string two sentences together. Certainly not about Razorbacks football.
I don't know whether this brush with greatness (and in my book, he will always be one of our greatest leaders, regardless of interns and cigars and such) has earned Hillary a couple new caucus supporters. But it sure made our day. And I wasn't even there. I live vicariously through Tim's story. And the autographed photo he's bringing home to show me tonight.
And the hand that touched the HOB (hand of Bill) that Tim's promised not to wash. Just for me.
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