April 13, 2008 11:53 pm
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When my editor asked if I’d like to go to Morehead to cover the Bill Clinton visit, I had little hesitation.
Of course I wanted to go.
I’d never seen a president before and it’s unlikely that anyone I’ve ever seen will become a president.
In addition, I’m what one of my friends calls “one of those.” She means one of those women who goes a little weak in the knees about the former president.
But I said little hesitation.
I was a bit hesitant for two reasons.
One, I hadn’t written an actual news story in more than 20 years. Although this isn’t what you’d call a breaking news story, it wasn’t a feature story, either. A former president visiting your little village is news.
Which leads to the second reason for hesitation: I am easily star-struck and was afraid if I had the chance to ask President Clinton a question, I would freeze.
However, there was no chance of asking him a question. The rally-style format of the gathering made it impossible to get close to the man, I thought as a sat in the press box, my reporter’s objectivity glowing like a fine dusting of gold. I was proud of myself. Several times, I had wanted to clap or nod or cheer like all the people who were there for a good time. But remembering it wouldn’t be a good idea to act like a “civilian” while on duty, I simply took notes and listened, seriously and with great focus.
After Clinton ended his speech, I headed out of the Morehead Conference Center as quickly as I could, knowing it would be an hour’s drive back to the office and I was on deadline. However, Secret Service stopped me and several others as we neared our cars. The former president would be walking down the street to a vehicle, shaking hands as he went, and we would not be allowed to leave until he concluded his promenade.
I was put out. Sure, I’d like to touch him, but I knew I would blow a lot of time waiting to get to my car and still not be able to shake his hand. But I wasn’t going to risk going under the police tape and getting shot. I would just stand there and wish I were closer to Clinton while I watched others shake his hand.
Soon, there was chatter among the crowd about how he was getting closer. I looked up and I, too, could see the perfect white coif coming my way. At the last minute, thinking I might have a chance at touching Bill Clinton, I thrust my arm through two layers of onlookers and right in front of him.
That’s when he touched my hand. His left hand touched my right hand. I squeezed his hand for all I was worth. Then he got into the SUV and sped away. I watched as the convoy turned onto U.S. 60 with lights flashing and drove out of sight.
I was satisfied just to shake his hand quickly, even though we didn’t even make eye contact. I just wanted to make some kind of an impression on him — even if was a literal one.
LEE WARD can be reached at lward@dailyindependent.com or (606) 326-2661.
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