January 20
by Janine Stephenson
Only a handful of college students
have arrived. More may be on the way. They might be running late, or maybe they
got lost. From what we heard, people keep expecting the Senator to quit. He’s
not quitting, of course. He hasn’t even started yet.
Just before going home last night we
finally received voter lists. Mrs. Stoutmiller, Becca and I began typing up
labels to send out the brochures once those arrive. We thought about
handwriting all of the addresses. It’s still something we’re considering. Becca
and I think it will add a personal touch, but Mrs. Stoutmiller says that our
fingers will develop terrible calluses if we do something like that. Better to
type it.
I think when I’m Mrs. Stoutmiller’s
age I want to be like her. I can’t ever imagine being that old, but if it
happens I’m going to remember her.
There are times I worry that we’re
pests to her. She seems fine with putting up with us. In fact, I think she
likes it.
She has a picture on the mantle in
her front room of she and her daughter, Annabelle. It’s adorable. They went to
the beach back in 1953 and took pictures. As she talked about Annabelle she let
out a little sigh. I’m not sure what her relationship is with her daughter. I
didn’t want to prod but it made Mrs. Stoutmiller melancholy to talk about her.
Mr. Stoutmiller had a heart attack in
1959. He had another one in 1965 and died. His picture is on the mantle as
well. She seemed a whole lot happier when she talked about him. Especially when
she was remembering the good times they had during vacation. She thinks that it
was better that her husband died when he did. It would break Mr. Stoutmiller’s
heart to see what’s happened to our country.
