Sunday Scribblings: pit bulls and presidents

Three of my neighbors now have pit bulls.

I live in a nice, golf course and bike path kind of neighborhood... a place more suited to golden retrievers and chocolate labs, yappy lap dogs and perky schnauzers on a leash.... a place I never expected to encounter pit bulls... but here they are barking and snarling from behind the block walls as I walk past. I don't like it.

I will admit, I don't read the daily papers, though I check out Newsweek.com nearly every day while I eat lunch and I watch Washington Week religiously. I keep up with national news, but often the local stuff slips by me. So the fact that Arizona is a closed primary slipped past me unnoticed until it was too late to switch my Independent status to Democrat. I can't vote for my chosen candidate on February 5.

But who is my chosen candidate?

I was enthralled with Obama early on in his race. I read The Audacity of Hope. I wanted a return to Camelot, to civility, to cooperation, to letting the other side speak without shouting them down. But I was looking for substance, too. And as time went on I was not hearing a lot of substance, just words about "change". I watched the debate before the New Hampshire primary and noticed that Senator Clinton always referred to Obama as Senator Obama but he always addressed her as Hillary. It bugged me. And I know why he did it, and I know that she even bills herself as Hillary... but still, I would expect him to address me in a more respectful way.... and you know, she made some points... she offered some substance... and I felt my vote shifting.

In the last week there has been a lot of shouting... a lot of name calling. And it seems that the bulk of it is coming from the Clinton side of the camp. It seems like a two-against-one fight, and my sympathies are shifting again. I feel like Obama is like me, surrounded by pit bulls, having to protect himself, having to lash out, when lashing out is not his best feature...

I would prefer to choose a president based on what I do want, rather than trying to avoid what I don't want. How do I do that when all I hear is barking and snarling.

The other day, while heading out for an evening walk, the third, and newest pit bull stood inside a security door and barked wildly at me as I went past. I remember thinking to myself, it was time to move. I don't want to live by mean dogs. I don't really want to live by people who think they need mean dogs. I don't want a president who is Mr. and Mrs. Mud-Slinger. I don't want to be barraged with scare tactics any more. I don't, I don't, I don't.

I can't vote in the primary. Completely my fault for not paying attention. But I will be voting in the regular election, and it is my hope, my audacious hope, that I can vote for a candidate who offers a new direction rather than a play book from a past presidency.