Sometimes things occur when
least expected. When you’re young, this can be quite confusing.
You try to make sense of
what’s happening. But this can be a challenge in . . .
The Oval
Office
Growing
up is hard to do. You surmount one hurdle only to move on to the next. My name
is Jason Haggerty. I grew up in a single-parent home. My mother could be quite
the character. She challenged me in ways that made me think, but not always to
my liking.
However,
if it were not for her, I wouldn’t be the man I am today. I’m president of
Haggerty, Styles, and Lee, a successful advertising firm.
Let me
share an example of how my mother interacted with me. I was ten years old at
the time and had a mind of my own. It was then that our lives collided in a
very unexpected way.
The day
was cloudy, with a chance of rain. We finished breakfast and sat staring out
the kitchen window. Then Mom turned towards me, and . . .
“Jason,
what do you want to be when you grow up?”
“How
should I know? I’m only ten.”
“Come
on. You must think about it sometimes.”
“Yeah,
sometimes.”
“Well .
. .”
“I’m
thinking.”
“So,
you’ve had enough time.”
“Uh,
President of the United States. That’s what I want to be.”
“Why?”
“I don’t
know.”
“You
must have some idea as to why. It’s a big job, you realize.”
“Mom, I
gotta go.”
“Go
where?”
“Not go.
Go!”
“Oh!
Okay.”
I left
the kitchen and raced down the hall to the bathroom. I didn’t think I was going
to make it, but I got lucky.
When I
exited the bathroom, Mom was standing in the hallway. “Did everything come out
all right?” she asked, with grin on her face.
“Aw,
Mom, stop it!”
That
night, I lay in bed thinking about becoming president. I would be king, I thought. I’d make all the rules and have my own
office. It sounded so good.
My eyes
started to close and I fell into a deep sleep. “President Haggerty,” a voice
called out.
“Huh,
what do you want? I’m trying to sleep.”
“Sleep?
You’re on the job, President. So wake up!”
“Okay,
I’m awake. Now what?”
“You’re
wanted in the Oval Office.”
“Oval what?”
“Oh,
come now, don’t play games with me.”
“I’m not
playing games. Mom doesn’t let me play games at night.”
“You’re
forty-five years old. If you want to play games, you don’t have to ask your
mother.”
“Forty-five?
What?”
“You
heard me.”
“Who are
you?”
“Your
Chief of Staff. But you know that. I make things happen for you.”
“Like
what?”
“Whatever
you’d like. Just name it.”
“Anything
I want.”
“Generally
so. There might be some exceptions. I don’t want to do anything illegal.”
“Mom
doesn’t let me do anything illegal. She says I’ll get arrested if I do.”
“No
worry, presidents don’t get arrested.”
“You
mean they can do bad things and won’t get caught?”
“For the
most part, yes.”
“What
about the other part?”
“What
other part?”
“The
rest, after the most?”
“You’re
confusing me. And you’re wanted in the Oval Office. So get up and come with
me.”
“All
right.”
I began
to roll out of bed. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be. I was bigger and
bulkier. I took my time and stood up. “Oh, my,” I murmured. Staring back at me
from the mirror on the wall was a grown man in a suit. Who is this person? I wondered.
My Chief
of . . . was gone and the door of the room was open. I looked out and saw
people—lots of people moving around. They appeared to be very busy.
I
started down the hallway. A young woman smiled at me, and said, “Good morning,
Mr. President.”
“Good
morning,” I whispered, and continued down the corridor.
A tall,
well-dressed, older woman looked me in the eyes. “Mr. President, I need to talk
with you. It’s very important,” she stated.
I didn’t
know where the words came from or why they flowed from my mouth, but I spoke as
if I knew what to say. “Senator Wells, how can I be of assistance to you?”
“I need
you to consider a very important proposal.”
“Proposal?
Are you asking me to marry you?”
“What?
Oh, no! You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“Why,
yes. I guess so. What is the proposal?”
“Can we
talk in the Oval Office?”
“Senator
Wells, I gotta go.”
“Huh, go
where?”
“Not go.
Go!”
“Oh!
Okay, Mr. President.”
“I ran
as fast as I could down the hall. Seeing the sign, “Private Men’s Room,” I
entered, pulled down my pants and sat on the pot.
Then I
heard someone knocking on the door. “Go away,” I yelled. “There’s only one seat
in here.”
A
woman’s voice replied, “I know.”
“Senator
Wells, just leave me alone.”
“Senator
who?”
“Stop
playing games with me. You know who.”
“All I
know is that you spend more time in the “Oval Office” than any ten-year-old I
know, Jason. So come out, now!
“All
right, Mom. I’m coming,” I muttered.
“And
remember to flush.”
This
story always will be a part of me, with a small addition. “Keep all your
reading material in the ‘Oval Office’ a safe distance from the pot, and don’t
flush while sitting on it, for you may go down with the crap. And no president
wants to do that,” Mom would say, in a way I never forgot.
Copyright
© 2023 Alan Lowe. All rights reserved.
