Hillary and Maya Angelouin Winston-Salem, NC April, 2008

Yesterday two friends and I traveled to Wake Forest University to see and hear Maya Angelou and Hillary Clinton. We arrived at WFU around 2:30 p.m. and easliy found the Wait Chapel. We then sat down on the grass in line to wait and wait and wait.

While we waited I noticed the other people waiting. The crowd which in fact was a mix had the overriding appearance of mostly white older women. The sea of grey hair was a clue. Women often came in groups with other women friends, young and older. Mothers were there with their young daughters who were running around and some women were there with older daughters, sitting and talking. There were daughters who brought their aging mothers, helping them find a place to sit and wait. There were older men and women who came together and then, there were a lot of single women who would sit and chat with people they met while waiting on line.

This was a woman's event. People sat in line chatting, laughing or reading a book and sharing information and food as the day wore on. There wasn't loud music or a lot of rah, rahs! A few college boys threw a frisbee in the middle of the lawn; they were well behaved. On both sides of our group were women who were undecided and one in our group was undecided. We had conversations about what their reservations about Hillary were: The Bosnia thing; the attacks on Obama; just not sure etc. Women volunteers came around and updated us on what was happening and when and what we could expect. It was during one of these update sessions that I began to see what the problem was with a least some of the women who weren't voting for Hillary.

We had several visits with volunteers who would tell us about what would or would not be allowed to be taken into the building. Most of the outlawed items were pretty clear issues, no chairs, no food, no water bottles etc. and everyone nodded in acquiescence. Then there was the "type of bag allowed in". This was not a "yes" or "no" issue and not a "multiple choice issue". This was an "interpretative issue" and each messenger delivered a slightly different message and each time we had to determine whether our "bag" fit their description of what was allowed. Some of the messages were "Nothing larger than an 8x10”; "Nothing larger than a piece of paper.” and there were others. Each message brought a barrage of discussion along the line as to whether certain bags would be allowed and each discussion left each of us with a lingering doubt about the "legality" of our bag. There was fear that after spending so much time in agonizing positions on the lawn, enduring the heat and discomforts we imagined and real, we just couldn't "risk" losing the prize of getting into the event. Gradually, bags disappeared or got smaller and still there was uncertainty. Would we be allowed in with our bag and what could happen if we were challenged? Could we pass through? Would someone challenge us and thus, we would have to "explain" or "justify" according to rules that we were uncertan about in regard to our bag?

Interestingly, our place in line was right across from the campus book store. On one of my breaks from the line to stretch my aging back, I noticed that they had set up a table and there was a stack of Hillary's books, "Living History". I had borrowed a copy from a friend of mine and had later tried to buy a copy of it locally. I had noticed them before at a store on display for $5.98. After I read part of the book, I knew I wanted my own copy but when I returned to the store, there were none. Now, here was my chance. I went to the woman at the table and asked "How much"? She replied, "$16.00". I thought for a bit about the bargain I had missed and then, I realized that I had this chance to buy it so "Why not?" I bought the book and went back to the long line to wait and chat.

Finally, we and our bags got in after passing through security similar to airport security and we got a great seats and we waited. Around 6:45 the pre-game warm up started and we had some fun yelling H I L L A R Y! There was a short game that got folks revved up by texting to the campaign headquarters 442008NC. The lead guy, Mike, later come back out and called the number of someone who had texted in. Everyone waited for their phones to ring hoping that they would win the prize of going back stage and meeting Hillary. The game was great fun for those who knew how to text message. For some of us, we learned to text message that day, in those fleeting moments, just for the chance of winning the prize; meeting Hillary personally. I had hoped to win, but no phone call from Mike. Three people did win the prize and they were ushered back stage to meet Hillary.

Finally, Maya Angelou and Hillary came out and the crowd erupted. This event was a conversation with Hillary and Maya and we got to listen in. It was fabulous and worth the wait to hear these two remarkable women chat. Hillary then took some questions from the crowd and Maya read a prose she had written about Hillary. I didn't know if Hillary would be meeting and working the crowd afterward, but I had already prepared my friends to either, wait for me, or put my stuff from their car in a place where I could find it after I got her to sign my book, 'cause I was staying.

The prospect of getting the book signed was faint because Hillary was well protected by serious secret service, who were by now not so secret and a ton of handlers, and of course a crush of mostly aggressive women who were now pressing forward much like the mad rush during a sale in a major women's store. (If we ever want to get past this energy crisis just harness the energy of these women attempting to get to Hillary.)

I hesitated for a nanosecond and then there I was camcorder in one hand and book in the other charging ahead into the sea of people mostly taller than me. I'm sure there are some women who thought a bit unkindly of me yesterday, but more women actually gave me a helping hand. Two well-dressed women stopped me in the crush to read my t-shirt. "Women who behave rarely make history". They loved it and left with a big smile.

As we "pressed forward" I struck up a conversation with a large African American women who had become my best friend as we then defined the term "embedded" in the sea of people moving in some way like shuffling or glacial ice migrating. We chatted as we were pushing and being pushed though a wall of people. I was trying to get video of Hillary and complaining and laughing that either I or Hillary was too short. (It turned out that we both are short.) At one point, my new friend got behind me, wrapped her arms around my waist and lifted me up so that I could get a better shot. Now, of course, we are very best friends, laughing at our attempts. In the next few minuets I would learn that the young woman with her was her daughter and they were both avid Hillary fans. She was pushing us/me forward. I heard this voice behind me say, "I'm going to get you through". Then there was the push behind me that sent me through the wall of people, closer to my target, Hillary.

Finally, I could see Hillary talking to people, still laughing, answering questions and signing stuff. I finally, thrust my book up high above my head and forward where it was suddenly lifted from my hand by a taller woman behind the ropes. She folded the cover back and handed it to Hillary, who in a flash signed it. Hillary handed it back to me with a big smile and I stammered something like "We love you in North Carolina! Thank you for being here!" I turned back to escape and give others a chance, when I saw my new friend waving and shouting "There's my daughter. Take her picture!"

I noticed the daughter had angled around and was coming up to the line close to Hillary. I stopped and turned and shot as much video as I could of them together and at least part of the hug she received from Hillary. We extracted ourselves from the still crushing mass of people who were attempting to get close to "Hillary". We stood together, chatting and laughing for a few minuets about our adventure, this young woman and her mother who had pushed us both forward through the crowds to get the prize, the things we each wanted; my autographed book; a daughters few words and a picture with the next president embracing her and a proud mother determined to see that her daughter got what she wanted. We exchanged names and e-mails. I learned that the young woman had recently returned from Iraq, where she had served with the Marines.

We didn't know much about each other at the beginning of our adventure. We really didn't need to dissect the similarities or the differences of who we/they were or why we were doing what we were doing. We didn't discuss the rules of how to get to Hillary or whether we ahould even try. We were just three strangers, three women who knew without discussion or analysis, that if we worked together we could each get what we most desired. We knew without discussion who would push from behind, who would take the pictures and who needed to speak to this woman who could be the next President of the United States. We simply kept our eyes on the prize. We worked together maximizing each others strengths and compensating for each others weaknesses, as we pushed through all obstacles. Each woman got what we set out to get and then we stood together laughing about our victory.

It required very little talking or planning; no evaluation of the others decisions or perceived past acts or transgressions. It was just the determined action of women pressing forward together, for as long as it took, to get what we each individually had decided to get. We didn’t quit or give up. We just trusted each other to do what we each could do to get done what we all needed to do. It was easier to do, than to describe what we did.