Thought Process

The other night the TV was tuned to the Democratic National Convention, and Obama was giving his acceptance speech.

Gamble came pottering down the steps; he had forgotten to give me a hug.

I motioned him over to see me, and he gave me a hug. Then I got an idea.

Gesturing to the TV, I asked, "Hey, Gam! What do you think of that guy."

He looked over his shoulder and looked back at me. "He's cool!"

Unexpected. Gotta find out more. "Why do you think he's cool?"

"Well, he's wearing a tie, and his face is all brown." Here, he swirled his hand in front of his face as if to indicate "brown all around."

Interesting. So wearing a tie and having a brown face makes you cool to G.

We talked a little more about going to bed and staying in your room. Eventually, I just wanted to shuffle him off to Buffalo. But I had one more question.

"Gamble, that guy on TV wants to be President of the United States of America," I said with no further explanation. I don't think he understands the concept of country, let alone what it means to be president. I pressed on.

"Now, do you think you would vote for him?"

"No."

"No? Why not?"

"Well, because his face is all brown. I want his face to look exactly like mine. Or like yours."

Ah. He played the race card. Funny thing is, that's the last thing I would have expected him to say. Illinois is a fairly multicultural place, and his day care, school, our neighborhood are all mixed, with many races and nationalities represented.

Out of the mouths of babes, indeed.