February 1, 1968
by Janine Stephenson
Intense fighting is still going on. Notice
I didn’t say just regular fighting. Intense fighting. We have the radio and the
TV turned on during the news so we can keep track of what’s happening. All
activity in the office stops during the news. Most canvassers try to make it
back to the office so they can watch it too.
The military is telling us that the
enemy is using the American public against them. The American people have
become part of the enemy.
Any arguments like that earn a
collective groan. Mrs. Stoutmiller shakes her head and clucks her tongue at the
news. Under any other circumstance, her reaction would be funny. But there’s
nothing to laugh at here.
Craig has been sleeping at the
offices. He says that his crash pad is too far away and he’d much rather work
late than go home and sleep. Mrs. Stoutmiller doesn’t think it’s a wise idea.
As it turns out, for the past few days he’s been living on peanut butter and
jelly sandwiches. He goes back to the pad during the day for showers. Mrs.
Stoutmiller told him that he needed a decent place to sleep if he was going to
make it for the long haul. So he came home with us and now he’s sleeping on a
cot in the kitchen.
I told Becca that I better not catch
her going downstairs to be with him. And he better not come up here. She’s
still pretending that she doesn’t like him, so she rolled her eyes at what I
said. But I also know Becca well enough that she just might try something.
I can’t blame her. It’s not that
Craig isn’t good-looking. He is. He’s got long, dirty blonde hair and he’s kind
of lanky. I prefer boys to be beefier. But right now, he looks so upset and
vulnerable when watching the news that I can understand why Becca would want to
comfort him.
It’s got to be scary, watching the
news and knowing that it all applies to you. That whatever they’re reporting
will have an immediate effect on you. The fighting in a distant country will
change your life.
