THE LADY WITH THE SCARY ARMS

     The boys outside the house on  Sumac Street seemed just a little out of control. One rode a bike, darting in between parked cars and dangerously close to the strollers on the block. The smaller one kept pointing his gun...obviously a toy one...at those same strollers. No one really seemed to notice but me.

     I walked towards the house and the boy on the bike asked what I was doing. "Talking to people about President Obama," I answered. "You know, the election. Are you going to vote for him?"

     "I'm not old enough," he said. "But my mom is. Come in the house and talk to her." He rushed ahead of me and opened the screen door and went inside, motioning for me to follow. I came to the door and figured I really ought to wait there for his mom. The people of Philadelphia had been plenty friendly to me, but maybe not so friendly that I could enter a home without an adult's invitation. The smaller boy came over and  pointed his gun at me. "Are you going to shoot me?" He laughed, changed his aim, pulled the trigger and shot a plastic ball through the open door.

     Their mom picked up the ball, tossed it outside and came to the door. She looked a little out of sorts, a little disheveled,  like her son had just awakened her. She also had tatoos running up and down both arms and across the top part of her chest. I got a bad feeling. I didn't think my usual charm would go over well with her. I was not expecting this to be a very good discussion. I anticipated that this would be a brief one. I had the thought that, like her oldest, she was probably a biker.

     I figured I'd be taking one for the team. But at least I'd be able to mark her off the list of the 120 doors I was supposed to knock on.

     I introduced myself and asked if she had a couple of minutes to chat about the Presidential election. I didn't think that she'd be particularly interested. I was wrong. She was an Obama supporter. I asked what issues particularly interested her. "Obamacare and education," she replied. "I'm raising 2 special needs boys."

     Oh. She talked. Her oldest had a mild form of autism. Her youngest had been born with congenital heart defects that had required several surgeries. He also had a learning disability. Medical bills had put her family $30,000 in debt. She was working in a bar at night and in a nursing home by day to pay the pills and start cutting into what she owed. She couldn't get health insurance but expected she'd be able to under Obamacare. "He needs to get reelected so I'll have it."

     She railed at the local Republicans who, she said, were hurting the school system and making it more difficult for her son with the learning disability. "The Mayor of Philladelphia is a Republican," I asked, demonstrating my ignorance. She looked crossly at me. "The governor. Too much funding for charter schools." Oh.

     The day was getting warmer and I was starting to sweat as I had uncharacteristically worn long pants on a Saturday to avoid looking too casual. She brought me a glass of water as she detailed the various programs she was using in kind of a scatter shot effort to take care of her kids' manyl needs and pay her bills.

     It was the best talk of the day. I knew pretty early in it that I'd badly misjudged her. My misperception was based, frankly, on her appearance, the behavior of her kids and her tatooes which, I must admit, kind of scared me. I felt silly. But I took some solace in knowing that sometimes I'm an idiot and this won't be the last time.

     I also thought that this woman fits all of Romney's stereotypes as well. There's a good chance she pays no federal income taxes. She takes advantage of every government program that can help her. She unabashedly wants more and will  use all of Obamacare once it's fully implemented, after we get him reelected.

     To think for a second, however, that this is a person who doesn't take responsibility, who doesn't try as hard as she can, who has a victim mentality is GROSS. A gross distortion. A complete charicature. It shows what an idiot Romney can be. Unlike me, however, he seems blissfully unaware of it.

     How we see this woman, how we regard her, how we help her, and, indeed, how we get to know her...beyond the irrelevancies of the tattoos on her arms and what she doesn't pay in federal income tax, is what, I think, discribes the differences between these 2 campaigns and why I keep walking down the streets of Philladelphia.