Crazyworld

U.S. Rep. Bob Inglis is facing a fierce crowd tonight at a health care town hall in Boiling Springs. After several rounds of questions, he's going over the reasons he opposes the current health care bill. Couldn't find a link, so here's the 16 reasons his press office sent out earlier today.

What's below is straight from the press release.

-----------------

Reasons Rep. Bob Inglis opposes H.R. 3200

          o Inclusion of a public option competing with private insurers- lead to single payer system which will destroy choice and innovation, ultimately will ration by waiting
          o Taxpayer funded abortions could be provided – no exclusion language
          o Adds tax in a recession on individuals and small businesses
          o Job killer – Makes job creation more costly, rather than reducing cost
          o Does not address medical liability reform
          o Grows government
          o Creation of Insurance Exchange focuses on minimum benefits and mandates without incentive for innovation or specialization
          o No incentive for quality outcomes
          o Current private employer-offered plans will be driven into exchange program within five years
          o Public plan option will reimburse providers at Medicare-style negotiated rates which could be below private insurer rates- causing a major cost shift and undercut private insurers.
          o Adds entitlement program that will hamper recovery and add to the $32 trillion obligation of Medicare
          o Government mandate is the only way to control costs
          o Insufficient individual responsibility or choice
          o Insufficient reforms of Medicare and Medicaid
          o Expands Medicaid rather than transition those individuals to the private insurance to have ability to choose their own health plan
          o Inadequate incentive for healthy behaviors, prevention, and wellness from a patient and provider standpoint

If you saw the wire story we ran in today's paper about embattled S.C. Gov. Mark Sanford, you may have noticed quotes from a few local fellows inserted in. What started out as a localized story (with me helping out master reporter Bob Dalton) quickly turned into an, "OK, this AP story is just too good." So, they took what I had and I was off to work on other things.

But because very few people seem to be defending Sanford these days - and fewer every time he bares his soul in an emotional press conference or interview, it seems - I felt I should post all of U.S. Rep. Bob Inglis' comments on the matter. Inglis makes a case that I think would resonate with some people in this state, particularly the Upstate. My interview with him reminded me of some of the comments a few political experts made a few years ago about the Christian/faith community's ability to forgive. At the time, we were talking about then-presidential hopeful Mitt Romney, but the underlying concept is the same, or at least similar, I think.

Anyway, from the interview...

On Tuesday's breaking news:

“I don’t think these additional meetings with the woman in Argentina, nor the contacts with additional women, change the essential nature of the problem, and that is that Mark has admitted to this infidelity, and now is having to deal with the consequences of that. …And I hope and pray he’s seeking reconciliation with his wife.”

On Sanford's ability to govern while dealing with a personal crisis:

“I don’t think that’s a problem. We are all coping in our private lives with personal issues. That would be like saying Sarah Palin shouldn’t be governor of Alaska because she has a special-needs child. Gov. Palin is coping with a special-needs child. That’s a lot to put on somebody. That’s a lot to put on a marriage. And yet she’s effectively serving as governor of Alaska.”

On whether Sanford can still be effective:

“Mark can be a more effective governor now than he’s ever been. Because now, he may have found the humility that could cause him to be able to see other people’s points of view better. He’s been so certain that it must be his way of restructuring, and his way of dealing with the stimulus, and his way of balancing the budget, that he may now be able to see other people’s perspectives. Because of the humility borne of this humiliation. So, in a strange sort of way, I think it could make the next 18 months the best of his tenure.”

Inglis then talked about the three years following his failed Senate run in 1998, a time he spent “complaining to God.” Through that, he said, he saw his own need for grace, and the need to extend grace to other people.

“That will make you different. And that’s what may happen for Mark Sanford. Everybody sees his need for grace. That may enable him to extend grace to other people. That works on a high spiritual plane, but also works in your daily dealings in politics.”

On the Republican brand:

“This is a great opportunity to lose the rot of self-righteousness — just cut it loose — and say we are not morally superior to the next guy. We are all sinners just like the next guy, in need of grace. Because the whole world sees us as completely not morally superior to anybody.”

Just got a copy of a fundraising letter sent out by the new chairwoman of the S.C. Republican Party, Karen Floyd.

A couple of parts caught my eye.

On the nomination of Sonia Sotomayer:

"Just four months into his term, President Obama has show his allegiance to the Far Left by nominating one of their own, a little-known federal judge named Sonia Sotomayer, to the U.S. Supreme Court.

"It's not that she's unqualified, although she is.

"It's not that she's a blatantly politically correct choice, although she is.

"It's that her brand of biased touchy-feely social activism from the bench is exactly wrong, diametrically opposed to the Constitution and precisely what's wrong with the Democrats' love for legislating from the bench.

"That's no the American way, it's not how we do things in South Carolina, and there's a rising chorus of conservative voices..."

Now, this kind of firey political rhetoric would be expected from someone in Floyd's position. Just putting it out there for the sake of discussion.

Also, for some reason I've thought a lot lately about a survey of the North Carolina judicial system several years back. I wrote about it at my last job, at The Free Press in Kinston, N.C. The study found that pretty much everyone who had the court rule in their favor thought the justice system treated them fairly. It also found that those who were ruled against thought the justice system was skewed. What a worthless study.

One more excerpt from Floyd's letter (emphasis hers):

"Now our challnege is to raise the money to deliver our message in a loud and conservative voice, and right now, we lack the money to do that. The cupboard is bare."

Further, she asks people to "throw us a financial lifeline" for $100, $250 or $500. She states she's on a mission to raise $200,000 in the next 100 days.

Can't wait to see the disclosure form.

When Edward Nixon, youngest brother of the late President Richard Nixon, walked into the ballroom yesterday, everyone knew exactly who he was. His facial features bore a strong resemblance to his brother -- and, yes, he has the Nixon nose. He was calm and willing to speak to everyone. He took questions, stayed late to sign books, and generally seemed to have a good time -- giving a hearty thumbs up when posing for pictures, rather than use his brother's more familiar hand gesture. Nixon, 79, sat down with the Herald-Journal for a brief interview before heading to Charleston. He's hitting several South Carolina cities this week promoting his latest book, "The Nixons: A Family Portrait."

HERALD-JOURNAL: What would people find in your book that they maybe wouldn’t find in a history book?

ED NIXON: Eye witness of history. And confirmed by a lot of careful research. It straightens out a few misnomers and misguided statements by a lot of people.

HJ: Like what?

NIXON: No ‘likes.’ No ‘likes.’ If you read history, and are aware of Nixon, then… As media has made people aware, sometimes they need a straight story to straighten it out. Media is a Latin word that means ‘between.’ Agents that work for one medium or another, you can read tea leaves, you can read palms, you can read crystal balls, but sometimes you look at the real scene, and get the word straight.

HJ: You’re going to China next week.

NIXON: Yes, that’s a business trip.

HJ: What’s the purpose of that trip?

NIXON: I’m a free-enterprise promoter in a country that needs a lot more. It’s already got a lot. It’s overtaking us, in fact. We’ve got to wake up. But 35 trips or so I’ve made over there, I’ve seen from the Mao era… and a very, very primitive type of country. It’s expanded now, under the influence of Deng Xiaoping and the offer to allow farmers to sell their surplus produce on the sidewalks. Unheard of. All of the sudden they took off. And from that point forward, the real world is seeing a China that is coming into its own as a first-rate partner in the world. Therefore, it’s time to wake up. Learn some Mandarin, maybe. One of my nephews is over there now, studying in China. And he’s learning a lot about how they do business. And he’s learning a lot, also, about how to show them how we do business, which is really important.

HJ: How do you think the current president is handling the world stage, or foreign policy or diplomacy?

NIXON: Without enough experience. He’s a very smart fellow, He knows the Constitution very well. But he’s — I think, self-admittedly — in need of advice. Who he calls on for advice is extremely important. If he goes only in one direction, I really have concern that we will end up like some countries in Europe that suffered through it… and returned, but they’re still suffering. And I think the Obama Administration… It’s not the Obama Administration. It’s the Congress. They print the money, or authorize the printing of money. So all through the centuries we’ve seen humans try to make gold out of lead. And now we have political alchemists trying to make gold out of paper. And that’s a very dangerous thing. It can’t be done. It can’t be done for long. Or, if we try to follow what happened in France in 1797, they had to end it… with a war. We don’t need that. Let’s avoid it.

HJ: You mentioned your mother today. She’s often portrayed as a very devout woman. How did she shape your life and your family?

NIXON: My mom was a Quaker lady. The Quakers don’t impose or demand or force anything on anybody. Each individual is responsible for his own being. And what he becomes depends on how his growth pattern, from coming out of a home with strong parents, into schools that teach basic concern for other fellow citizens, or fellow students, and then to grow. And then how we grow depends on what grandparents will tell us about what’s the world made of. Parents don’t have time to tell you all that, but grandparents and teachers do. And once you’ve learned the geography, and the history, and the philosophy, that we’ve grown up with, especially in our own Western culture, that develops into adults who become great leaders.

HJ: You mentioned that strong families are the heart of a great nation. How healthy would you say the American family is today?

NIXON: It’s hard pressed to provide parenting at home when children return home. Child care and things like that, they suffice, but we’ve come in to a point where it seems both parents think they need to work — many probably do — to support the family. And I have questions in my mind, how is it that we have lost that, that thing I enjoyed in the ’30s, through the Depression, when one parent was home all the time? Both parents worked, but that one parent that was home was working, doing laundry, or something else. We don’t want to go back to that, perhaps, but how do we get more parenting at home, through the age of 5 at least, when the kids get into school, and pick up teachers, who get paid to do it? Parents don’t get paid much. Neither do teachers. Not enough, in fact. Because they really are the most important professionals we have. Far more than doctors, lawyers, dentists and so forth.

HJ: Did you see “Frost/Nixon”?

NIXON: I saw the original. And then I took a look at the entertainment. The entertainment is aimed at an audience that wants to be entertained. It’s not so entertaining to family members who know the difference between the real story and what Ron Howard’s put together.

HJ: Do you think history has treated your brother fairly — or will it?

NIXON: It already has. More so, it’s coming around to where we realize now that his knowledge of not only international relations and world affairs, but also domestic policies that he invoked and got started. The only trouble was, he was cut short. Things like the (Environmental Protection Agency), for example. His concern was that, eventually, when you start an organization like that run at the government level, you’re going to have to stay with it and control it from going out of bounds, and shut down industry, which it really has in many cases. Far too extensively. EPA is important. And we need it. But it needs to have more good sense, common sense, applied to how they act.

HJ: You mentioned he was cut short. What was that like for you and your family, watching Watergate unfold and his resignation from office?

NIXON: It was not a comfortable time. All of the family grieved over the turn of events. But when you take a very highly developed, self-disciplined man, I don’t care how much self discipline, and how much self-control he has, if you pick on him long enough, the liberals discovered that they could do it, and they broke him finally. So that’s a tragedy — for the country, not for him. That’s why he’s rising above all that tragedy now.

HJ: When you were talking about creating jobs, you said the government should be fostering entrepreneurs, not expanding government…

NIXON: The government should not be a business. It should be run like a business, but it shouldn’t be a business.

HJ: But how do you translate that to a part of the culture that has, through the past several generations, become accustomed to…

NIXON: In other words, why have we become dependents? A nation of dependents. So, on July 4th we’re going to declare Dependence Day, instead of Independence Day. What happened to our self-reliance? Are the kids learning how to take care of themselves, and to develop things, or be inspired to create something new and build it and sell it? Not enough. Some are. Those will be leaders. Those who will be dependents will just take what the government will give them and be happy, I guess. But it won’t be nice.

HJ: Any parting thoughts?

NIXON: I really have high hopes. I really think the president we have now has given us one freedom. And that is, when you fill out a form that asks for race, all you have to write now is ‘human.’ So, racism goes by the wayside now that we have this president in there. There’s no call for racism anymore. There will be those who try to retain it because they’ve come to depend on it. And make a living at it. But we’re humans. And we’re Americans first. Otherwise, we might as well move to Tasmania. I really feel that we have a great future for us in the country as our president becomes educated with real experience. But right now, he needs people who have experience to advise him on pitfalls that lie ahead if he goes the same direction he seems to be going.

HJ: Thank you. It’s been a pleasure.

NIXON: Good show. Keep them smiling.

OK, so better late than never, right?

Just created a Facebook group for Spartanburg people to share stories, photos, etc., from this year's inauguration. I hope more than just the group of people we went with join. It's an open group, so hopefully some of the school groups and other individuals from this area will pick up on it.

You can find it here: http://tinyurl.com/db75r5

I'm listed as the creator but I don't really plan to do much in the way of moderating. So, please, behave yourselves :)

I figure it will get some attention early on, and then people will forget about it, and then over the years revisit it now and again.

Oh, and yes, that's the best name I could come up with. Sorry.

As always, feedback is appreciated.

It’s been a while, I know.

At first, it took a few days to decompress, to go over in my head the whirlwind three days photographer Alex Hicks and I had just experienced. And then, as often goes in newsrooms, things happen, stories break, meetings pop up and suddenly an entire to-do list is on the back burner. But now, almost two weeks after the inauguration of President Barack Obama, here goes my take on the slice of history we were able to be a part of.

I had grand plans for our coverage of the event. We were, for lack of a better term, “embedded” in a group that totalled 65 people. The trip was hosted by the Spartanburg County GOP. It was the first planned trip I’d heard about late last summer, and jumped on the chance to be on board. When Obama won, the number of actual Republicans on the bus dwindled, and we ended up with, I’d say, a pretty diverse group. Probably 50-50 Republicans and Democrats.

Going in, I knew the paper was planning a special section. I wanted to profile everyone on board, even if it was just a couple of paragraphs. I wanted to get to know everyone, their life stories, their reasons for going to Washington, their political views... everything. I wanted to tell stories about the teens who were going, about the senior citizens, about the Republicans, the Democrats, any possible way to slice the bunch so as to bring to light another angle, that’s what I wanted. I wanted to pass around my laptop and let people blog about the trip right there. Collect all the voices.

It might have been a tad overambitious.

On the eight-hour ride up Sunday, Alex and I began talking about our game plan. We’d met some of the people on the bus beforehand, which made things easier. We knew that Monday, Martin Luther King Jr. Day, was a free-for-all, with the various families and friends and other groups splitting up, scattering around the capitol. So, the first order of business was to find a family (or a couple of families) to tag along with. That was the easy part.

By the time we got to our hotel room, we began going door to door, collecting -- again, for lack of a better term -- “family portraits” of everyone, so we’d at least have that. Get names. Get faces. Get to know everyone.

We were lucky that first night. Got about 4.5 hours of sleep. Suffice it to say, the crushing realization of the time crunch we were going to face made blogging and micro-blogging (via Twitter) the first casualties.

That’s OK. Still lots of stories to tell.

Later that morning, we got off our bus and attached ourselves to a group of nine people from Spartanburg. A couple of families plus a few non-related individuals. By the day’s end, they were all friends, though.

We knew everyone who was going to the S.C. Inaugural Ball needed to meet at Rep. Bob Inglis’ office by 3 p.m. We’d hoped to bounce around between some different groups, but as the day progressed, it became obvious that a tighter focus on a smaller number of people would make for a better story. (At least, I think it did.) It took awhile, because I kept looking for “the moment.” Maybe it would be the children getting to see the Lincoln Memorial (which they couldn’t, up close at least, because when we were there the stage from a concert the day before was still being dismantled). Maybe there would be some great mother-daughter bonding. Something. It took time to realize that there wasn’t going to be some shining moment to tell a story about. The entire day, the series of little moments, that was the story. Occasionally, strangers would begin talking to one another, or someone would spot a person from Spartanburg that they had no idea was in DC. Little moments.

Monday was crowded, but nothing like how it would be in a mere 24 hours. (Less than that, actually.) I’ve been to DC a few times, and it’s a cool town. It’s also always been cold. Never been in the spring or summer. This time, the entire reflecting pool leading to the Lincoln Memorial was frozen. We saw a guy with a giant tank of coffee strapped to his back, and we grabbed a cup of hot chocolate from a street vendor. I gained a new appreciation for hats and gloves. We hit a couple of exhibits, the best one being photographs from the civil rights struggle -- and that was the one room we went to where flash photography wasn’t allowed. But it was still an exciting experience. I looked at the police report filed when Rosa Parks was arrested, and chatted with the young black woman and her daughter next to me about it. We weren’t just seeing it through different eyes, we were seeing it through different lenses.

(I should point out how struck I was by the various children in the group who, when asked if they’d studied this civil rights figure or that in school, the answer was most often, “Not really.” Maybe some Martin Luther King Jr. love on his birthday, and a couple of short lessons during Black History Month, they said. That, to me, spoke volumes.)

Alex and I decided to break off from the group around 2 p.m. We actually ran into one of the families I’d written about the week before shortly after that. I’d been carrying around my laptop all day in hopes of finding some time to write. (I think, at that point, I still thought I could blog or Tweet.) I called Spartanburg GOP Chairman Rick Beltram, who was coordinating things, and told him we were on our way to Inglis’ office. I’d figured that would give Alex time to go over photographs and me time to start writing the next day’s story. Once back at the hotel, we’d only have an hour or two to finish things up and get ready for the ball. But I’d figured wrong. Beltram told me there was a three-hour wait to even get into the congressional office building. Everyone was meeting a couple blocks away. Ok, no problem, right?

I can’t remember how long we were waiting for the bus -- mind you, Monday and Tuesday were freezing, especially to those of us who had lived in the Southeast most of our lives -- but eventually the bus came around, I found a seat, and started cobbling together my notes. There was no room for the bus to park, so it drove around the block a couple of times, waiting for all of our crew to arrive. We got back to the hotel around 4 p.m. I was about halfway done with my story, and Alex was ready to send photos. Panic began to set in when Alex’s laptop started acting up. He had dozens of great shots. I think we were able to transmit two or three by the time the computer was working again. No time for a shower, but we quickly dressed and headed back down to the bus for the ball. Wait, had we eaten anything since the just-add-water eggs at 6 a.m.? No time now.

The traffic going back into DC -- we were staying in the Mount Vernon area -- was horrendous. We got to the Smithsonian National Air & Space Museum, but all the right turns were blocked, and the bus had to park on the other side. Alex and I got off the bus and walked a few blocks to get there. (We could hear a crowd cheering behind an MSNBC stage off in the distance.) I think everyone else on our bus ended up doing the same. Two in our group actually landed tickets to the Illinois ball, which was awesome, I’m told. Again, I had my laptop with me, and again I was too busy to write anything. Alex was shooting photos for the upcoming Spartanburg Magazine, and I was hunting good interviews. I remember we ran into Kim Nelson (former Spartanburg County Councilman Rock Adams’ daughter) at the ball, and we chatted a while. The music and food were so-so -- we’re not supposed to eat at these things, but we decided to throw caution to the wind and have a couple of hor’devours -- and the people who made repeated trips to the free bar seemed to be having the best time. I did land a quick interview with Reps. Jim Clyburn and Bob Inglis and former Gov. Dick Riley. (A week later I opened the e-mail saying Clyburn was holding a “media availability” at the beginning of the ball and would not be taking any questions after that. Oops.)

We got back to the hotel at about 11:30 p.m. I spent some time with a few members of Beltram’s family, who were more than happy to share his childhood secrets, perhaps explaining the way he is today. (I mean that in the nicest way, Rick.) Shortly after midnight, it was time to start writing. Alex was working his photo magic -- his laptop was back in order, at least enough to get the job done. We finished at about 5 a.m., which left us just enough time to get ready for the big day. Alex made a quick run to the 7-11 next door for sodas and chips. Those unmade beds looked inviting, but history was calling. And everything had to be packed and on the bus, because by the time we’d be back on it, it would be past the checkout time. We got on the 6 a.m. bus -- most of our group had gotten on the 5 a.m. bus -- and headed back into DC.

Our plan all along had been to find the largest number of Spartanburg people and attach ourselves to them. Going up, it looked like there wouldn’t be enough tickets for everyone -- the ticketed area was closets to the U.S. Capitol, but even there, the best view was on the Jumbotrons -- so we thought we’d have Spartanburg people to surround ourselves with. But then, a miscommunication, and it turned out everyone had tickets except us. (Between Alex and I, we had been granted a single press ticket, but we declined that because we needed to be together and there was no guarantee that would have placed us near local people.) I’d talked to my editor the night before, and we came up with a contingency plan. There was 100-plus Spartanburg High School students at the event, and most of them didn’t have tickets. So, we’d just hook up with them. No problem, right?

(Only 32 people in our group got tickets -- and many of them weren’t able to get in, anyway, because of chaos and lack of planning on the part of the inaugural committee -- we’d find out later. Most of the rest of our group watched the event on television in Sen. Jim DeMint’s office, and a few others stayed at the hotel and watched it on television there.)

When our bus dropped us off at the Huntington metro station, the driver announced on the speaker, “This is going to be tough.” Huntington was the first stop, so the train was relatively empty when we got on. By the time we arrived at the mall, though, each car was bursting at the seams. When the doors finally opened, people spewed out, with clapping, cheering and chants of “O-bam-a!” going up after turning a corner or seeing the stairs or some other small checkpoint. Already, you could only move in baby steps. I’m talking shoulder-to-shoulder, front to back, just you and a few thousand of your new best friends.

One surprising thing was at how happy everyone seemed to be. I mean, everyone was in a good mood. Most people had slept little (or, like me and Alex, not at all) the night before, and it was cramped and cold and really, the day had all the symptoms of being miserable. But everyone was happy. Excited. There was a thrill in the air on top of the chill. It was hard to explain. People were counting down the hours -- and eventually, the minutes -- before President George W. Bush would leave office.

When we got out onto the street, we were able to pull ourselves out of the stream of people and take a look around. You basically had to stand against a building, a tree or a street vendor or risk getting caught up in the current. And all the cross streets, in every direction: full of people, sidewalk to sidewalk, just like it had been getting out of the metro station, just more. Lots more. Alex grabbed a honey bun and me a hot dog (OK, OK, two hot dogs) from a vendor for breakfast. I found a cheap toboggan -- a hat, for our northern friends -- and turned it inside out. We’re not allowed to wear anything political, but it was really, really, cold. And everything had Obama’s name or picture on it. We did find one vendor with a box of McCain-Palin T-shirts. She said she’d sell us the whole box for $5. We were going to get them, kind of a as a gag, for Beltram, but decided we didn’t want to lug them around all day.

Throughout the morning, if I had to take my gloves off to write something or record someone, I swear I could feel little ice crystals inside them when I put them back on. We were about 30 minutes ahead of the Spartanburg High School delegation, so we tried to figure out how we’d find them in the massive crowd. We stepped in to the river of people, which was eventually steered toward Independence Avenue. We passed every kind of street vendor imaginable. People had bought cases of hand warmers and were selling them like they were going out of style. We passed a guy selling Obama air fresheners. His sales pitch, and I’m not kidding, was “Smell like Obama!” But you couldn’t really stop and deal with these guys. You pretty much had to have your money ready and hand it to them, get your goods, and continue to be pushed forward. The momentum was unstoppable.

Occasionally, there were places where you could detach yourself from the crowd, stand against a barrier blocking a street, and get your bearings. I had the bright idea of heading toward the Washington Monument (the only other option, really, was to stay where we were). At the time, it seemed logical. When we heard from the Spartanburg High group, we’d try to meet them there. I mean, you can see it from anywhere in the mall. It is the tallest structure in Washington, D.C. So, we got back into the stream of people and allowed ourselves to be carried forward. The next break, when we could jump out and stand still, was around Independence and 15th. We’d soon find out this was the point of no return. Along the long walk, Alex and I started trying to figure out Plans C and D, just in case Plan B fell through. It was looking like finding a small group of Spartanburg people in this sea of people was going to be impossible.

We were corralled into an area in front of the Washington Monument. The ground dipped down, which Alex called a “fishbowl.” Don’t get in the fishbowl, he kept telling me. Don’t get in. We won’t get out.

We ended up in the fishbowl.

It was around this point that I heard from our Spartan High contact. He was with a small group of students in one of the ticketed areas -- about 14 blocks away. He wasn’t sure where the nonticketed students were -- again, a miscommunication, I guess -- but said they likely weren’t going to get in, anyway, and we could still tag along with them. We still had cell reception at this point, but it was spotty, and my battery was draining quick, even though it had charged all night. We’d soon have to resort to texts, as calls quickly stopped going through.

Anyway, the problem then was it would have taken us at least 30 minutes to get out of the fishbowl and probably two hours or more to get back to the point they were at. The inauguration would likely have been over by the time we got back. And people were starting to stake out their position. The stream of people was becoming as solid as the reflecting pool had been. Immobile. It got to the point where literally taking one step forward or one step back would have required a tremendous amount of effort, some negotiating and goodwill -- especially if the person you were trying to go around thought you were trying to get in front of them. We were stuck, and the closest Jumbotron was quite far away. I could generally see it good enough if I stood on my tip toes. If I could feel my tip toes. And the crowd went on behind us as far as I could see.

Still, the mood was good. Alex and I had gotten our third or fourth wind, and we tried Plan C.... Is that what we were on? His idea: Talk to as many people from as many different places and get a single quote: What does this mean to you? Sounded easy. We got through about a dozen people -- interesting people, too, from Birmingham to Los Angeles to New York to DC -- before it became simply impossible to move. I suggested we dig in, watch what we could, and collect reaction quotes back on the bus. (That last part was always a contingency plan. Easy enough for a story, but there was no visual component to this. Alex began shooting pictures of anything interesting he saw. And he got some damn good photos.)

The ceremony was pretty much as you saw it on television, except apparently it was difficult to hear people booing the Bushes. From where we were, it was deafening. And it wasn’t just once. It was every time they showed the 41st or 43rd president (or anyone in their family) on the Jumbotron. Frankly, it bothered me. I mean, I’m all about people being able to disagree with those in authority, but this just felt... wrong. These were presidents of the United States, an office that deserves respect. At one point, I turned to someone booing beside me and said, “This must be that unity I keep hearing about.” He stopped.

The other thing that bothered me was about two-thirds of the way through Obama’s inaugural address, everyone decided they needed to start leaving or at least be making their way to a place where they could leave easily. But it was gridlock. People were claiming their 80-year-old grandmothers had to go to the bathroom or that they had a child with autism who was a few rows away. (Who would let their autistic child roam freely in a crowd of more than 2 million?) But it didn’t matter the reason. No one was moving. Not by choice, really, because we didn’t have a choice. No one did. Until the outer layers of people started moving away, and then the next layer, and the next layer, etc., everyone and their 80-year-old grandmothers and autistic children were going to be stuck just like we were. By the end of Obama’s speech, more people were facing away from the Jumbotrons than toward them.

Around the benediction, the crowd began to shift. It was happening. I tried to pay attention, but by the end of it I was basically letting myself get carried backward. (I was still facing the Jumbotron.) Alex said he kept calling out my name -- we got separated, and quick -- but I never heard him. He even tried to use the flash on one of his cameras to get my attention. But we were separated. And we would be for the next hour and a half, two hours... It gets fuzzy.

That hour and a half was not fun. There was no time to think about what we’d just seen, just heard. There was only 2 million people scattering. Getting routed one direction and then turned around and routed back the way they came. I was able to pull myself up to the signpost at 15th and Independence and light a cigarette -- man, that was a really good cigarette -- but for some reason the only call I could get to go through was to our city editor back in Spartanburg. Nothing else worked. I told him I was at 15th and Independence and he said Alex was working his way toward the yellow line. (That’s the train back to Huntington.) Apparently, he was able to get through to our boss, too. So I asked a military officer where the closest train station was and they said Foggy Bottom, which was a heckuva a long way away. At least, it was when a million other people were all trying to get there, too. My phone had died, or at least cut off because of low power. I was able to turn it back on and use it for a minute or two every now and then, and realized I needed to save those precious minutes. So I went with the flow. The next place I was able to wrest myself from the crowd and grab some standing-still room was a block or two in front of the White House. (Just an aside, every now and then, when I passed a military or police officer, I’d ask them the way to the closest train station. Every one of them gave me a different answer.) Miraculously, I was able to get Alex on the phone at this point. He was at Independence and 15th -- about 30 minutes away, at least at the pace I’d been traveling at. So I waited and we eventually hooked back up, with Alex having an officer call my name through a blow horn. I was just on the other side of the police car. That’s how thick the streets were with people.

So we made it back to the train station. And we eventually made it to the yellow line to Huntington. When we finally sat down, we realized we had been either standing or walking for eight hours. Suddenly, we remembered we hadn’t slept at all the night before. It was coming back. On the train, we met a guy who was involved in establishing Leadership Spartanburg, so that was interesting, but at this point we were focused on what we needed to do as soon as we got back on the bus and got our equipment.

We were the last ones on the bus. Apparently, it wasn’t allowed to back to the train station, and everyone was taking public buses back to the hotel, where it was parked. Rather than wait -- and hold everyone up even longer -- we took a cab. Not sure what I’d spent the $60 in my wallet on in two and a half days, but between me and Alex we were able to cover the fair with less than $1 tip. We apologized profusely, but the cab guy was nice. We’d told him up front how much cash we had, and he said he’d make it work.

When we got on the bus, everyone cheered. (It was about 4:30 p.m. Technically, according to the itinerary, we were still 30 minutes early.) Alex began going through photos and I began going around and talking to people about their experiences. When I had enough for my stories -- one general reaction story, one on our ticket holders who ended up watching the inauguration on a laptop, or on a television in a cafe outside of the district -- and then the last few profiles I wanted to send, it was dark. It had been for a while. I did my last interview in a Wendy’s with a guy waiting in line. And I was able to charge my phone for a few minutes. Ended up eating a hamburger with one hand, sorting through notes with the other. I think by this point I’d filled up four notebooks. I started writing after dinner. The editors began calling just before I sent my first story... second two soon followed. I’m not sure when everything was filed. I think we were about an hour north of Charlotte.

And then we got home. Alex and I had worked 40-plus hours straight with no sleep. In the last hour or so of the trip, when I could actually socialize with people who were still awake, I told them I hadn’t had a weekend like that since college. Alex, a former Navy chief, told them he hadn’t had a weekend like that since the second time he was deployed to Saudi Arabia.

Yeah.

But it was fun. Exhausting, but fun. Since we’d only had two “real” meals on the whole trip, we met at Outback the next night to debrief, talk about what we’d done, what could’ve been done better or different, and any loose ends we wanted to tie up. I wished we could’ve done more, Alex thought we’d tried to do too much. So I guess we hit the mark, coming in somewhere in the middle.

And part of me was glad we got separated from... well, from everyone. We were sent to tell their stories. But the selfish part of me realized that we had one of our own.

I plan on starting a Facebook group called “Spartanburg 2009 Inauguration Alumni.” I’m open to suggestions for a better name, if anyone has one. But this would be open to everyone from here -- turns out there were at least three school groups from Spartanburg at the event, not to mention bunches of families or individuals who went up on their own. I figure it will get some attention at first, and then die down. But in the years to come, it will be a place to go back to, to reconnect with people, to reflect on the experience after some time has passed... and it’s free and easy, so there’s that.

I’ll post the link in a separate entry a little later on so it won’t get lost in this lengthy post. I realize this probably seemed a little disjointed and stream-of-consciousness and rambling and hectic, but that’s how our experience was.

And I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Thanks to The Herald-Journal for allowing Alex and me the opportunity to cover this event.

Had a chance to spend some time with Attorney General Henry McMaster today. McMaster, who almost certainly will run for governor in two years, was in town to see various people this afternoon -- including our editorial board and some local GOP activists.

On our way back from lunch, I asked McMaster almost as an aside if he'd seen the Web site to draft current South Carolina Gov. Mark Sanford to run for president in 2012. He said he hadn't, but that Sanford would make an "attractive" candidate.

"He'll get a lot of support nationally. People will be very interested in him," McMaster said. "He is a Southerner. He will have been a two-term governor of a prominent Southern state. On a number of highly principled issues, he is right. And personally, he is a very attractive, personable man."

Sanford seems to have been making more appearances in the national spotlight lately. He appeared on Fox News this morning.

Former Republican presidential candidate Mike Huckabee of Arkansas will return to some of the many counties that supported him during the GOP primary -- and some that didn't -- over the next few weeks to support his new book, "Do the right thing: Inside the movement that's bringing common sense back to America."

"Do the right thing" is billed as part campaign memoir/part looking into the future of the Republican Party. Is it also a dip of the toe into the waters of 2012? Too early to tell. But Huckabee has a campaign-like bus that will be a part of the tour.

Huckabee will be in South Carolina on Friday, Dec. 5, and Saturday, Dec. 6, to promote his book. He's visiting, Greenville, Spartanburg, Rock Hill, Aiken and Columbia. The Spartanburg event is at 8 p.m. at Sam's Club.

Visit the bottom of the book tour page for a free one-day pass to Sam's Club for the day of the event.

I had several calls late last week asking for a follow-up on the story about the tension between the different interests keeping tabs on absentee voting. Spartanburg County Republican Party Chairman Rick Beltram, acting as a poll watcher, challenged the vote of a 74-year-old woman based on -- in his words -- a signature that didn't match her credentials. Ruby Rice, president of the Spartanburg branch of the NAACP, got in his face, and at the end of the day, a spokesman for the Justice Department's Civil Rights Division was telling me they were monitoring the situation here.

Monday, the sequel may write itself.

First, let me say this: As of Thursday night, Beltram was saying that he (and other local GOP officers) felt his life was in danger and that he needed protection. I shied away from including this, because -- this close to an election -- people heavily involved in politics tend to get so wrapped up in their worldview that they lose sight of what they're saying. Was this some sort of insinuation about race? Was this a defense to point back to in case the Justice Department actually pursued any kind of action? Was this simply an attempt to politically one-up someone over a bruised ego? Too many questions and, really, I don't think a 74-year-old woman poses that much of a threat. As for Ruby Rice, she can get loud when she's passionate about something, but I just can't see her hauling off and slugging anyone.

The GOP boss left saying he wasn't going back to voter registration.

Monday, he's going back.

According to a three-page memo Beltram sent Melba Blakely, chair of the Spartanburg County Election Commission, over the weekend, Beltram plans to be there tomorrow with a body guard.

Just typing that makes me cringe: It paints a picture of a wild, raucous bunch of absentee voters who are out for blood. I've been to voter registration. People get passionate. People get tired of standing. But I haven't seen too many people out for blood.

Spartanburg County elections Director Henry Laye told me tonight that if Beltram's body guard isn't a certified poll watcher, then he'll have to leave.

In his memo, though, Beltram does raise a few good points, one of them being about poll watchers. Rather than cite the way he puts it, I'll just post the state law he's referring to:

"SECTION 7-13-860. Watchers; appointment, qualifications, identification, and conduct.

Each candidate who is not unopposed in a primary and each nonpartisan candidate, including announced write-in candidates in a general or special election, may appoint a watcher for any voting place where his name appears on the ballot. However, in any general or special election, all candidates who are certified by a political party must be jointly represented at each polling place by not more than two watchers from the party for each one thousand registered voters or fraction thereof registered at the polling place. Each watcher appointed hereunder must be a qualified voter in the county where he is to watch, and must be certified, in writing, to the managers of the voting precinct to which assigned. This certification must be signed by the primary or nonpartisan candidate or, in the case of watchers jointly representing all candidates of a political party, by an appropriate party official. Watchers must, at all times, wear visible identification specifying the candidate or party, as appropriate, which they represent. The identification badge of a poll watcher may not exceed four and one-fourth inches by four and one-fourth inches with individual letters on the badge not exceeding one-quarter inch in height or width. Badges may not be a color that has a fluorescent quality. After qualification, watchers must be placed in an area designated by the poll managers where the watchers can observe the entire election process at that polling place. No watcher may conduct himself in a manner that will interfere in the orderly conduct of the election or influence any voter in the casting of his ballot."

Now, I'm no lawyer, but this does sound like only political parties (in general elections) can have certified poll watchers. That puts Rice in a pickle, as the NAACP clings to the mantle of being nonpartisan. She can't choose a party, and therefore she can't be a poll watcher. So technically, he has more authority there than she does. But by that notion, who's to stand up for the next 74-year-old woman? Most people don't pore over state law before they go vote. They just go vote. And they don't want some loudmouth telling them maybe they shouldn't be there.

I should point out that Friday I spoke with a man who's long been involved in Democratic politics in this part of South Carolina, and -- while he doesn't agree with Beltram's positions -- he said that Beltram was doing the right thing. In fact, he said it would behoove both parties to be as diligent watching polls. His take on Beltram: Obnoxious? Yes. Intimidating? No.

An underlying theme of this story is race, but maybe not the way you think. I don't want it to be the footnote on a rambling post on Sunday night as I scour crime reports to make sure we don't miss any "police blotter" items, so I'll put some more thought into it and hopefully blog about it tomorrow.

Either way, I may spend some time at the election office tomorrow just in case there's any more drama.

In SurveyUSA's final pre-election tracking poll of South Carolinians, Republican John McCain maintains his presumed lead in this state -- but not by much. In a survey of 800 adults just before Democrat Barack Obama's 30-minute infomercial aired, more people in this state said they'd vote for McCain (52 percent) than Obama (44 percent) on Election Day. Factor in the margin of error of almost +/- 4 percent, and the race here is neck and neck.

One interesting tidbit is that Obama beat McCain in the lowest age category of those surveyed (age 18 to 34), but did increasingly worse with every higher age group. McCain easily carried the 65-and-old crowd by a significant margin.

By that same poll, incumbent Republican Sen. Lindsay Graham's re-election bid has a huge advantage over Democrat-in-name-only challenger Bob Conley -- 58 percent to 39 percent.

Graham's performance could be a key indicator in certain precincts about voting patterns. The senator's campaign sent out a mail piece late last week that targets minority voters. It points out that Conley "refuses to endorse Barack Obama," but fails to mentions Graham's constant support of McCain; quotes Rep. Jim Clyburn, the third-ranking Democrat in Congress; reminds everyone that Graham gave the commencement address at three historically black colleges (Allen University, S.C. State and Voorhees College); and includes a ringing letter of endorsement from a black preacher. It discourages people from voting straight Democrat on Election Day.

You know, some Statehouse candidates probably wish they'd tried something like this.