i used to be so connected...

I was working last on Wednesday so Hastings Chris swung by my office, where we hung out for awhile and then headed up to my folks'. I'd called to alert them of our post-dinner presence and by the time we got there, my dad had prepared homemade hot chocolate and my mother requested that we all retire to the living room.
What the fuck? I thought we'd raid their fridge and watch some Hitchcock. Oh no! My parents had a willing guest who loves talking politics. We were having hot chocolate and rehashing elections. Terrific. Anyway, turns out that my dad wrote on his blog that apparently, presidential polls might be wrong because some people claim to be voting for Barack but are secretly racist and would never vote for a black person. As my mom pointed out, this is known as The Bradley Effect.
"Why?"
"It's named after Tom Bradley."
My father leapt up from his chair and raced to his office. "You remember Tom Bradley, Bethy. You met him!" He returned with a photo which I'd seen up in his office for years. Many moons ago, dad dragged me along on another one of his boring political field trips and we took a photo with a bunch of old people. Having a parent that's involved in local politics means you get to cut the ribbon on drugstore openings, ride in small town parades and sit through a lot of boring-as-fuck meetings. Often times, my dad would just hand me a piece of 'City of Mill Valley' letterhead and a felt tip pen and tell me to draw for 2 hours. And, as evidenced in this photo, let me dress myself. That's my mom's B of A t-shirt she probably got at some team building exercise (oh yeah, Joanne was a hardcore banker back in the day) and clearly, my leggings and prominently displayed nametag.

Check out Alan Cranston standing behind me! He was in the Keating Five with John McCain! I would like to point out that other than me, my dad and Babs, all of the people in this photo are dead, including my good friend JoHanna, the only person in this photo (other than my dad) who knew who the fuck I was. Chris called me the Angel of Death and vowed never to get his picture taken with me. I forget who those other guys are, but maybe dad'll hook us up in the comments. All I remember is that they're definitely deceased.

Conversation moved onto the upcoming MILK movie, because I'm working on my proposal of San Francisco's newest tourist attraction, "Dan White's City Hall." How great would this tour be? You know how I love a dicey murder and all the better, my old man knew both victims and that kooky shooter. I find this a far cooler fact about pops than him letting me cut ribbons at drugstore openings. Much to Chris and my delight, dad starts talking about the day the shit went down, how he and his cronies were running around the city and ran into Willie buying a tie at Wilkes, how Dan hated my 'Uncle' Phil with a passion and then dad provided us with the quote of the evening:

"This movie being about Milk is bullshit. He was a fucking supervisor. Big deal. He coulda been in the bathroom and missed the whole thing. He just happened to be sitting in his office and Dan figured, fuck it. Dan wanted to kill George."

Interestingly, and I would assume, not in the movie, there were two gay leaders in San Francisco at this time. Harvey Milk and some other dude. Politically, my dad and his cronies were on Team Other Dude. But I'm hardly the person to tell this story. And trust me, it's a great story. Which gives me an idea! I'll Flip-(you for real)-video my dad telling the story! Mel could interview him! Okay, it's in the works. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, here's hoping Barbara Boxer got a new suit...