h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

The facility is in the grip of a severe cold, a virus that has swept through the ranks of staff and residents alike. My hall, South Back, is one of the worst affected; next door, Betty has gone on oxygen, and Louise's cough is so bad that an x-ray was ordered up for her. I caught the cold over a week ago and, while I'm not symptom-free, I know I've got over the worst of it.

I have immured myself in my room for the duration, but tomorrow there is a residents' council meeting which I must attend... because I am running for president. Tomorrow I and my distinguished opponent must present our case to the snuffling and coughing ranks of our fellow residents, even before we get on with complaining about the food.

Never in my life have I run for office. No student council in school, or position in local government. I became a member of the Historic Preservation Board (a zoning committee of sorts) once I moved to Lincoln, but I merely had to submit my name and bona fides to the County Council in order to be appointed. No posters with my face on them were involved, and certainly not voting.

Now I have posters in the corridors, and residents are voting. Well, some of them are.

Is this truly to be taken seriously? Is the post of president worth anything more than the wooden gavel the winner gets custody of, and the privilege of guiding the meeting? I can't be any squeakier as president than I have been all along, I don't think. I spoke for Gretchen when her glasses broke and months went by without anything being done -- heaven knows Gretchen can't speak for herself. This position is not exactly a life-changer.

There is something I think I might try to accomplish, but bringing it about is going to involve hunkering down in the long grass and waiting for opportunities to come to me. Whether or not I am elected. Being president would give me a bigger face, is all.

The other week L got an award. L is Lonnie, and he is a veteran who served in World War II, in the Navy. To call the ceremony impromptu is an understatement; the hospice group arrived and convened with whoever happened to be in the vicinity, which included me, a few therapists, a handful of residents and the activities staffers. I hadn't realised Lonnie was under hospice care, but of course. He was more animated than I had ever seen him. While he couldn't remember what ship he was on or indeed which ocean, he was aware of the significance of the ceremony and beamed as the retired navy guy pinned a badge on his sweater and handed him a framed certificate. We applauded vigorously.

And for a few days thereafter, until I sequestered myself with the cold from hell, I would shout "Hello sailor!" at Lonnie when our paths crossed, and he would grin back at me. It gave me an idea.

Good luck with the election!

I'm very curious about your idea and will be watching out for updates.

Deb

Good luck!
And I hope you'll get rid of that cold soon.

Best of luck with the sniffles, and the politics.