Governor Sarah Palin is now well known for her constant references and shout-outs to Hockey Moms and Joe Six Packs. We all know who she's talking about. (But if you don't, I recommend watching re-runs of a Jeff Foxworthy sit-com or a good flick by the Coen Brothers, like O Brother Where Art Thou? or Fargo. I think there's even a Blue Collar channel on satellite radio if you're rolling like that.)
I work with folks from around the country and some of my favorite people are Hockey Moms from Michigan, Minnesota, and Wisconsin. I've had a Hockey Mom over to my house for dinner at least once. Heck, I grew up in Sapulpa, Oklahoma with Joe Six Pack. I send that guy Christmas cards every year.
While I've always been crystal clear exactly who was nearest and dearest to Gov. Palin's heart, it just dawned on me, in no uncertain terms, that I am not.
I'm not the person Gov. Palin was talking to when she winked at the camera one too many times last Thursday. If she cared at all about appealing to me and winning my vote, she would've known that I think professional women playing to the camera like a Homecoming Queen on the back of a convertible is neither folksy nor charming during a political debate.
I'm not the person Gov. Palin talks about when she jumps to the defense of Joe Six Pack. She would know that I don't drink beer and, in fact as the P.D.D.--Permanent Designated Driver, I actually worry about folks who do drink beer in six pack increments...which, if I'm doing the math correctly, is almost two times the quantity of a 40-oz, right?
The closest I've ever been to a hockey game was watching The Mighty Ducks on cable television. As a child of the 80's, you know I can't resist any film that features a member of the Brat Pack or Breakfast Club. But I digress.
Weird thing is...I work hard for the money too. Most of my family is working class or on the cusp on either end. I'm buying it and frying it up in a pan just like the Hockey Moms I know.
My mini-SUV is in the carpool lane every morning at school trying to make it before the tardy bell rings. I use as much gas driving to and from work as I do our community rec center because the four year old boy I'm raising has dreams of becoming the next Cullen Jones, Michael Phelps, LeBron James, or Antwoine Somebody-or-Other.
I even go to church, can recite the 23rd Psalms, John 3:16, AND Phillipians 4:13. Truth be told, I love God as much as the next person at Saddleback Church or Fox News.
Nevertheless, I just don't think I'm on Sarah's priority list and for the life of me, I just can't figure out why. I guess it is and will probably remain just one of those things that make you go hmm.
Hockey Moms, Joe Six Packs, and Me. "One of these kids just doesn't belong here..."
Day 28 and counting.