Mom Goes to the White House

Posted: December 19, 2012 in Life, Mom, Russ
Tags: , , , , , , ,

So yeah. This was kind of a big deal for a year or two in my life. No, Mom didn’t actually go to the White House but I’m pretty sure she was on a Secret Service watch list as a kook. It all started when Russ made another ambiguous, oddball comment – probably a joke, and probably related to something on TV or in the news: “I”m gong to the White House! Want to come with me?” Mom laughed, and took it for what it was at the time – a joke. The more she thought about it, though, the more she realized she had done something wrong. She should have jumped on his offer, and should have said “Yes! Of course I will go to the White House with you!” As she was obsessing over this conversation – and believe me, I got to go over it in minutiae, a new political figure came on the scene. Ross Perot was an independent running for the Presidency against Bill Clinton and Bush Sr. Mom got the idea that – wait for it – Ross Perot was actually dressed up as Russ that day and actually invited her to be First Lady. Surprised? No, me either. As I pointed out in a previous entry, she felt that the Mafia “made” people by choosing some Joe Schmoe, faking their death, and then having them step into the public spotlight as whoever – in this case, a politician destined to be President of the United States.

Gaffe, her one true love and Australian hit man, had supposedly retired to the sunny beaches down under – never to be heard from again. The new man on the scene was Ross Perot – affectionately called “R.P.” by Mom. She asked Russ about him repeatedly, sent Russ hundreds of atrociously long letters to be delivered to “R.P”, and went to Ross Perot conventions. She bought his biography, but couldn’t be bothered to read it herself (she was never a very good student). She flopped it in my lap one day and said “Read it and tell me about it.” So I did. She took pictures of Ross Perot on TV. Keep in mind, this is in the days before On Demand when you could pause a picture. She actually grabbed a throwaway camera, waited for him to show up on the news, and snapped pictures of him. Supposedly, she wanted to see if he was wearing a mask. She also secretly took photos of Russ while he was in a lesson with me – with the flash on. He was turned towards me, teaching, and then CLICK! FLASH. He looked at her, very confused, but he let it go.

We met Ross Perot (and by “met” I mean we shook hands with him at a rally) a couple times. She handed him letters, and some demo tapes of mine. Every time he had a rally in the area, she pretty much showed up with me in tow. After the first letter (and demo), the Secret Service started intercepting her in line as she pushed towards “R.P”. They took (and presumably screened) any packages, letters, etc she tried to give him. This really upset her. During one such rally, she supposedly ran into a woman in the bathroom and had a encounter with her, which she related to me.

Mystery Woman
: You think you’re going to the White House? You’re not going to the White House. I am! You’ve failed the tests and aren’t Good Enough!

As per usual, I was waiting for Mom in the hall outside the bathroom. I didn’t see anyone come in or leave other than her. I didn’t mention this to Mom, because she was very shaken up.

At the time, Russ Trolls were all the rage – you know, the ones with the big, florescent hair? Well…she found one that was in a suit and carrying a briefcase. Between this fact, and that it was a brand named Russ, she found great significance and bought it. She gave it to Russ to give to “R.P.” along with a thick envelope that no doubt contained another epistle.

She kept asking Russ when “R.P.” was going to come back – she needed to see him and talk to him. Russ resorted to his usual vagaries, which kept her at bay until she discovered Ross Perot actually had a wife.

Mom: That’s the woman I met in the bathroom!

She insisted up and down that she had failed some sort of test and missed out on her chance to be First Lady. She was an inconsolable mess for weeks. Every time I turned around, she was either weeping and keening or had the thousand yard stare of a Vietnam Vet. She talked about how life was shit now, and how nothing mattered.

I don’t think she “got over it” per se, but I think her delusion morphed in some way and she was able to justify things somehow. She got better, but then she had a new obsession in her life – being “Good Enough” for Ross Perot.


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