Clinton, Pete and I

"Why him? Why not me? I should be there, not him!" Pete said, watching President Clinton at the White House on TV. Pete was biting his lips, fidgeting. Later that night, Pete had explained in detail to a radio talk show host, how Foster's body had been found with blood dripping upstream instead of downstream, which was a proof that the body had been moved before it had been found, another intrigue in Bill Clinton’s road to power. The radio host had hung up on Pete. Lying in bed, wide awake at two o'clock a. m., freezing and waiting for Pete's body close to mine, I could hear him clearing his throat in the other room, swallowing his pride, and repressing feelings of powerlessness. “Nobody listens,” he said, coming to bed. It was 1993 and I had fallen in love with my opposite, – a Christian Republican and computer scientist with military background, whose family had fought for freedom all over the world from the Civil war to the modern times, Pete had told me. "Freedom comes with responsibilities, and Clinton is compromising the integrity of this country,” he was saying." As a writer, an artist and a lover, I wanted to understand what he was trying to say. It was important for me that we communicated, so that we could stop despising the opposite's political views and religious differences. “Use a reporter's voice,” I would suggest, 'so that you don't sound so blinded by fury,” but he would continue to sulk, and flare the air waves, and flame on the Internet, even aggravating people in chat rooms. One day, he woke up all excited: "We will get Clinton out of office before the end of his term!" "And why would you do that?" I asked. "For corruption and abuse of power," Pete snapped, leaping out of bed, and running to networks of fuming dogs on the radio and online, from Gordon Liddy to Rush Limbaugh. "What do you have against him?" I asked getting in the kitchen to make coffee. "He represents the worst of his kind. He lies and abuses others. He manipulates and cheats for his own purposes. We will impeach him!" I poured the coffee in mugs, searching for words that would appease his anger. "Doesn't Clinton work on social programs that are good for humanity?" I ask. "I am sure he wants freedom for us as much as he wants it for himself." "The difference is that I really fought to earn that freedom, while he sneaked out. I sacrificed four years of my life in Vietnam," Pete said, tears coming to his eyes. "I didn't know you had fought for freedom," I said, "Like many foreigners and some leftists, I was under the impression that Americans fought to rule the world." “We didn't ask to fight in Europe. We have been asked, implored to help get rid of Hitler,” he said. I moved things from the couch, taking time to turn my tongue seven times before saying what was burning it since a long time: “Ironic! I always perceived the Conservative-Republicans as being restrictive, oppressive and dictatorial." Pete mumbled: “What you don't seem to realize is that the Democratic Party lives from people's backs. Big government produces nothing but rules to tell you what to do, while small government encourages personal initiative, letting the people organize their own lives. We like to take care of business ourselves," he added, “don't you?” “Of course!” I went to the kitchen to breathe, and assimilate the shared content, head spinning with doubts and questions.