1210 S Valley View Blvd # 114
Las Vegas, NV 89102
(702) 737-8683
December 25, 2012
Dear Mr. President,
(I have been wanting to call you Mr. President.) I would like to tell about a friend of mine named Steve. Steve is seventy-eight years old, and I help him out whenever I can. He’s proud and, like many mature folk, is fiercely independent. It took me a long time to persuade him to ask his doctor for a disability parking placard, (he’d rather walk farther even if it hurts) but once he started driving those scooters in the Home Depot, you couldn’t get him to stop honking!
Steve is like the typical septuagenarian. If you hold your hand at eye level and begin from the top of his head, and slowly move your hand down, you can find something wrong with him from head to toe. Actually, that is his joke; there is nothing wrong with him other than being a seventy-eight year old. They have conditions. This septuagenarian is different in that despite all his ailments, he helped with your campaign. But let me step back a few decades.
At the height of the Civil Rights Movement, Steve marched with African Americans for equality. One time, he was threatened before a protest. An anonymous stranger phoned Steve warning him that if he marched with the “Black folk,” he would never see his family again. They meant someone would shoot him dead.
Steve marched with his Black Brothers anyway.
There were few White folks like Steve who marched with African Americans during those days. The stigma alone kept most people away, even sympathizers. But, not even an anonymous death threat could stop Steve.
Fast forward to 2008. Steve was seventy-four years old and excited about the election. (He was torn between you and Hillary, as was I, lol.) On Election Day, when it became evident that you would win, I rushed Steve to a television. “What’s the rush?” he asked. Well, I wanted Steve to be there when the news stations called the election for you. Steve was quiet, and made those funny faces that people who are trying to stop the tears from coming make by stretching their face this way and that. He said he never thought he would see the day a Black man would be president of the United States. (Now, we’re waiting for a Hispanic woman for president!) Steve admitted that after the Civil Rights Movement, he didn’t see things changing fast enough.
Several years ago, when Steve had a close one, he didn’t think he was going to make it. He was ready to go. On the night you were first elected, I asked him if it was worth fighting for to see you become president, and Steve said, “Yes.”
On your inauguration day, I woke up Steve to see you take the Oath of Office. He grumbled because it was 5:30 in the morning on the west coast. But once he was up, he was in thrall. Watching you being sworn in was another great moment that made it worthwhile for him to “stick around a little longer.” Watching Steve watch you being sworn in as the 44th President of the United States was one of those moments that makes a person believe that good indeed does prevail.
Flash forward 2012. It’s so close that Steve and I want to help you campaign. Steve’s reason for campaigning was not because he had a vested interest in Medicare. Steve is comfortable, but not so well off that he can waste his money. He was not concerned about how Romney’s Medicare vouchers would affect him. Steve wanted to campaign because he always fights the good fight. The way he did in the 1960’s. Steve got nothing out of fighting for Civil Rights except that it helps society in the long run. In Nevada, he made phone calls (a real challenge because he is hard of hearing), and we drove people to the polls. I know it does not sound like much, but for a seventy-eight year old (with a former pack-a-day 50-year smoking habit), Steve is one of those people that make the world a better place. He says he would freeze in the January temperatures of D.C., but I know that he would be thrilled to see you being sworn in next month.
President Obama, Steve never did any of these things for himself. Only because he likes to help the little guy and cannot sit still watching the underdog being put upon. He’s one of the few people that I wish I could be more like because if I were, the world would be a much happier place to live.
Switching gears, Mr. President, I have enclosed an Inaugural Poem that I wrote for you. No one asked me to do it. No one gave me the idea. It just came to me (and wouldn’t go away until I wrote it out). I apologize if it sounds presumptuous, but I did not choose to be a writer. It chose me, so to speak. You see, I became an election junkie this past term (much to the chagrin of those around me), reading and watching everything I could on the Internet. I often went to bed with voices from the election spinning in my head. Each morning I reached under my pillow for my phone and checked the election polls for my daily fix of statistics.
Eventually, words came to me and I wrote them out. It does not have a title yet. I call it “A Poem Written in Honor of President Barack Obama’s Inauguration 2013,” with slightly different versions depending on how tired my fingers are from typing. I suppose if someone had commissioned it, it would have a title.
You should know, Mr. President, that I have never done anything political in my life. Last month a few days before the election, for some reason, I wrote the first draft of this Inaugural Poem. I was antsy to get to Nevada to help with your campaign but had some work to do before I could travel. Most people do not have the luxury of taking off work to campaign, and I am one of those people who cannot easily drop everything whenever I wish.
For weeks, your campaign had been emailing me encouraging me to donate, even $5. I know that sounds little, and indeed your campaign messages indicated that even $5 would be appreciated. I did not have the $5 until the very last day for contributions because I had to make sure I had enough to cover my bills while in Nevada campaigning for you.
(Actually, I had a choice between getting a fruit smoothie at Burger King. They were promoting their new fruit smoothies with a buy-one-get-one-free coupon. I had wanted to get a fruit smoothie as it's the only time that I get my servings of fruits and vegetables. However, if I bought the fruit smoothie, then I would not have been able to donate the $5, also a first for me politically. I had never before made a political contribution, and never wanted to, either. But I gave up the fruit smoothie, two actually, I would have ordered mango-pineapple and strawberry, mmm...)
I do not know if my five-dollar contribution made it in time or not, but immediately after I made my small donation, you sent me an email thanking me (you’re welcome) and asking me to make some phone calls. So I did!
I traveled to Las Vegas and only had a few days to make phone calls and drive people to the polls. Steve and I tried to drive as many people to the polls as possible: Dave, a Veteran who had an old knee injury, a gentleman with Multiple Sclerosis, and an elderly lady who could not even walk to the bus stop.
I realize that all this is very little help and would be happy if Steve received some sort of acknowledgement from you. There are too few people in this world for him to go unnoticed by the people for whom Steve has been fighting his entire life, since before you were born, actually, with no reward for himself other than seeing that the Right thing is done.
As well, I am aware that the gift of this poem is not very much. Please know though, that this poem was written from the heart.
President Obama, if you have not already figured out, the point of this letter is: You Are Loved So Very Much By So Many People That You Will Never Know. How does that feel?
I hope you enjoy reading your Inaugural Poem as much as I enjoyed writing it. (I also wrote a poem entitled “A Tale of Two Romneys,” however, I prefer to be positive these days, four more years, yay!) I wish you a productive second term, and like so many Americans, I remain
Abidingly yours,
Ssal Nogard
"Long Form" means that yes, there will be a "Short Form" Open Letter to the President posted soon.
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My other writings:
Inaugural Poem 2013 for President Obama
A Tale of Two Romneys (Like "A Tale of Two Cities" but obviously not as good as Dickens)
My take on Salvador Dali's painting the Metamorphosis of Narcissus at the Tate Modern
Princess Boo Wakes Up On the Wrong Side of the Bed
Princess Boo Wakes Up On the Wrong Side of the Bed (Dr. Seuss Version)
