I'm gonna miss wearing my Obama buttons. They sparked conversations with all sorts of strangers. Like the cashier at the redneck butcher shop who was turning 18 in a few days and who said he was so happy to be able to cast his first vote for Obama. And the psychologist at a nearby table in restaurant where a friend and I were having lunch, who said, "Excuse me . . . I just wanted to say how glad I am to see the two of you wearing those buttons so proudly." And the somewhat elderly Home Depot clerk who said if Sarah Palin found herself assuming the presidency she would "excuse herself." Uh-huh . . .
I had a bunch of them (the buttons, that is). There was my favorite, BLONDES FOR OBAMA. And the one that looked like an album cover, JAZZ FOR BARACK OBAMA, with his profile in blue. I was qualified to wear REPUBLICANS FOR OBAMA because, well, I'm still on the books. And then there was my extra-large purple MICHELLE OBAMA button.
I'll miss them. But I'm resisting the impulse to order one that says