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Mountains, yes -- summit, no Meeting? Greeting? He's Still Waiting.By Rick Horowitz
So everyone else is thinking it's just a coincidence, one of those enough-monkeys-at-enough-typewriters things, even though nobody uses typewriters anymore so you'd probably have to say it's one of those enough-monkeys-at-enough-computer-keyboards things, which is too bizarre to even contemplate, not that you couldn't teach monkeys to work with computers, but it's still too bizarre to even contemplate -- and anyway, that's not the point. The point is everyone else is thinking it's just a coincidence, and I'm thinking it's anything but. Picking up the newspaper last Thursday morning, I mean, and right there on top of page one it says "President Bush headed for Santa Fe." Which would ordinarily not be so peculiar maybe, except that the paper I'm looking at last Thursday morning is the Santa Fe New Mexican, and the reason I'm looking at the Santa Fe New Mexican is that I've just arrived in Santa Fe myself, and how peculiar is that? It's not like I spend that much time in Santa Fe, but we're there last Thursday morning, the whole family for the whole weekend, to root one of the young ones across the collegiate finish line with cheers and flowers and plenty of cameras taking plenty of pictures, which is something we've been planning for months. And President Bush is going to be there too, the newspaper says, along with Mrs. Bush, staying with old friends for a little rest and relaxation, which is something that seems to have come up pretty much at the last minute once the war in Iraq was over, which it certainly is except maybe for the anarchy. Anyway, everyone else is thinking it's just a coincidence. But I'm thinking there's more to it than that. I go to Santa Fe for the weekend, and the president of the United States suddenly decides that he'll go to Santa Fe for the weekend? It's obvious: He wants to see me. He wants to see me, but he wants to keep it kind of informal, one of those below-the-radar things you sometimes hear about (and sometimes don't), so instead of arranging for me to go to the White House with all that White House scrutiny, he figures we can get together out on the road somewhere. Somewhere like Santa Fe, which is fine with me. Maybe he just wants to chat, or maybe he's got something particular on his mind, like trying to convince me face-to-face that those tax cuts he keeps pushing really will help ordinary working people as much as they'll help the kinds of people who have vacation homes near Santa Fe nice enough to host a president of the United States. Or maybe he's looking for my advice, which I've got plenty of, and which I'm certainly willing to share if he asks, or even if he doesn't. Green chile is better than red, for instance, but other things too. Which is why it's kind of strange when the phone in the hotel doesn't ring, not on Thursday when I'm still settling in, and not on Friday, when the president actually gets to town. My cell phone doesn't ring either, and this time I've actually remembered to turn the thing on just in case he decides to call me while I'm outside somewhere. I don't hear from him either day, inside or outside, but I'm not especially worried, because I figure we've still got the rest of the weekend to sit down together, except for Saturday morning, which is commencement, and I'm not skipping commencement for anything, not even for the president. But it doesn't matter because he doesn't call about getting together Saturday morning during commencement, or Saturday afternoon, or Saturday evening either. (The TV news says he's out playing golf.) He doesn't even call on Sunday when I'm at the flea market, which would be a perfect place for us to sneak off for a conversation behind one of those tents, and plenty of good bargains too. (More golf.) He never calls at all. By Monday, it's time for me to leave New Mexico and fly off to the Midwest. On Monday, the president also leaves New Mexico and flies off to the Midwest. I think he's toying with me. Posted 5/13/03. There's
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Rick Horowitz
