Excerpt from Grandpa Jack
Jack Dodger, an unlikely third party presidential candidate, has stopped in Washington, D.C. for several campaign events.
The first stop was to be on the National Mall, where a small rally was planned. After considering several sites, Jack had lobbied for the Korean War Memorial—a fitting site for a veteran of that conflict.
As Kevin pulled the RV up to the parking area, they were surprised and pleased to find a crowd of some one thousand people already gathered. Jack put on his suit jacket and straightened his tie and then turned to Billy who was standing in front of the door. “How do I look?”
“Like you belong here,” he said, sensing Jack’s nervousness. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine. Just be yourself.”
Billy opened the door and stepped out into the sunshine. He was followed by Jack, which elicited a cheer and applause from the crowd. The sound melted the furrows in Jack’s brow and a smile crossed his face. He made his way to a small podium, pausing to shake a few hands along the way. The crowd appeared to contain a wide mix of ages and skin colors. To the left side was a small contingency of media, made evident by the presence of video cameras.
“Well, thank you. This is certainly a delightful reception,” said Jack. “We’ve come a long ways to get here, and we’d be tired and worn if it weren’t for the way folks have received us up and down the highway. It’s especially encouraging to be greeted this way here in Washington.
“There’s a feeling out in America that this city is eaten up with scandal and hypocrisy. When we leave here in a few days and head back out, I’m gonna tell folks that there are still people in Washington who want to give rather than take. And that’s what this campaign is all about: getting involved and giving something back. I’m not saying that all the politicians in Washington are bad, but I think too many have forgotten what they came here for.
“That wasn’t the case with the soldiers portrayed in this beautiful memorial. I was there in Korea, and I can attest that those brave young men never once forgot what their job was. It was to fight for freedom and democracy. And they did it not by fighting with each other—they did it by working together. To do otherwise was to bring certain defeat.
“I realize that in government as in all aspects of life, there’s always going to be some differences of opinion. But at some point, folks have to put that aside and pull together. In politics there’s always going to be some in the majority and some in the minority. Those in the minority are going to have to work a little bit harder to get their ideas heard, but in the meantime, they’ve got to find some part of the majority view that they can work with. And those in the majority are going to have to lead graciously and fairly and honorably. Instead of running people over, they’ve got to work harder to bring them along. This is important business, and there’s no place in it for bullying and ugliness, and certainly no place in it for slander and lies. As Abraham Lincoln once said, ‘Nothing is politically right that is morally wrong.’
“So one of our goals in this campaign is to remind people of what they’ve come to Washington to do and to see if we can’t become a part of the process. And with your support, I think our chances look pretty good. So we thank you, and God bless you all.”
Jack stepped down, and as the crowd began to disperse, he and Franky were immediately approached by a small group of gray-haired men.
“Franky Parker, by God, is that really you?” said one of the men, busting through the pack and brushing past Jack to shake Franky’s large hand.
“Yep, that’s me. And who might you be?” Franky rubbed his chin.
“Well, there’s no way you’d remember me, but I guarantee there’s not a soldier who went through your chow line who doesn’t remember Franky Parker,” he said, with a couple of the others nodding affirmatively. “Out on the lines, they called you the ‘Singing Slop,’ ’cause you were always singing as you slopped that chow into our kits. You always gave us big helpings of the good grub, if there was any.”
“Yep, I got in some trouble with a general over that,” said Franky. “He said if I didn’t hold back on the grub, there wouldn’t be enough money left in the US Treasury for ammo. I told him that if he’d plan his battles a little bit better, maybe he wouldn’t need so much ammo.”
“That comment near ’bout got you sent to the front, didn’t it?” Jack interjected.
“Yep, but then I showed him the pork roast I had saved out for him and his staff, and he let it slide. Kept coming ’round regular after that.”
They all shared a big laugh, and then Jack, Franky, and the other veterans began moving down the sidewalk to get a closer look at the monument. A couple of television camera crews followed the vets, and Billy was pleased that they were getting some good pictures, even if the talk was a bit loose.
As they walked among the life-size bronze figures of soldiers on patrol, the chatter began to calm down, and the mood became more reverent. A jovial comment from one of the vets of, “Hey, Bob, this looks like you on one of your bad days,” was answered by more hushed tones of, “This one looks like Walter, God bless him,” and, “Wonder what ever happened to Ray?”
Some thirty minutes later, the men came back to where Billy and Wilton were waiting. They shook hands, patted backs, hugged, shared addresses, and made promises to stay in touch.
“You’re doing a good thing, Jack Dodger,” one of the veterans said. “You keep it up. You show ’em what you’re made of. You show ’em what we’re all made of.”
“Thanks, fellas.” Jack squinted to hold back a few tears. “We’re gonna give it our best.”
Jack and Franky watched the others leave, and then they walked back to where Billy and Wilton were standing.
“That was real nice,” Jack said softly to Billy. “Nice of you to get them out here this morning.”
“Wasn’t our doing,” said Billy. “Those men came on their own.”
“Real nice,” Jack repeated and turned to walk back to the RV.