Sara Whitman

Catch a Grenade

Filed By Sara Whitman | April 18, 2011 8:30 AM | comments

Filed in: Living
Tags: President Obama

You know that song on the radio, I'll catch a grenade for you... I think the artist is Bruno Mars. I was listening to it on the radio driving home today and thought, yup. That's my story. 300px-Mills_N36_SGM-2.jpgI'll catch a grenade for you but will you catch one for me?

Probably not even a softball tossed if you're wearing a glove and the ball was lobbed lightly.

Since it's a song theme, and an often song theme, I guess I'm not alone.

But why? Why do I put myself in the position of doing anything and everything for some people only to be handed back a less than enthusiastic response?

Now stepping in front of a train for my babies? Oh yes. No question. Now, tomorrow, forever. They are my children. It's what parents do. Well, except for the few that drive them into the river.

Maybe, even then, there is some warped sense of saving them.

I think about President Obama and how he's catching grenades every day. Do we love him back the same way? Nope. We want more, we deserve more, we expect more. We have no patience for him to have a bad day or bad decision.

He is the President. Part of the job description must be, "thankless hours of hard work..."

He's not been perfect. Not even remotely but then, neither am I. I whine too much, too often. About 20 years ago, my sister gave me a sign that says, "Thou Shalt Not Whine." I still have it hanging in my bedroom.

Sometimes, I think we liberals need to all have that sign hanging somewhere to see. For the first time in... well... forever, we have a President who is addressing issues never touched before. Third rail politics, meaning, if you touch it, you're dead.

Health care. Gay rights- a hate crime bill passed, DADT repealed, and countless changes for LGBT federal employees.

Is it enough? No. But when I think of the other side being at the helm, I feel myself ready to catch a grenade for Obama.

Of course, I'm all over catching grenades.

Maybe it's time to be a little more choosy.

(Crossposted at Suburban Lesbian Housewife. Img src.)


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sometimes we can't choose which grenades fall into our hands!