A New Refrigerator or a New President?

by John Merriam

I've been in debt practically the whole time since becoming a sole practitioner. After my previous law firm suffered financial meltdown, I went out on my own. Two lines of credit were often the only reasons I could make my mortgage payment. In May 2004--finally, after eight years--it looked as if I might be able to pay off pressing debts. I work for contingent fees--a percentage of what I win--and had lately settled several lucrative cases. I told my wife, Kaye, about our impending good fortune. We immediately got into an argument about what we would do once we had surplus cash.

"I want a new refrigerator," Kaye said, "that one I showed you at Home Depot." We sat in front of the fireplace on a chilly and rainy evening in early May.

I knew the one she was talking about. At $1100 or $1200, it was the top-of-the-line unit at Home Depot. It had a filtered water dispenser and automatic icemaker. Sleek black steel doors closed like a Cadillac. I shuddered. "After it gets plumbed and the cabinets framed, plus sales tax, we're talking $2,000, easy!"

"I thought you said we could afford it?"

"I'm hoping we can, but I'd rather donate to the Kerry campaign."

"I thought you didn't believe in giving money to politicians," Kaye replied.

"I don't. Money, like power, corrupts. But we need to make an exception for this election."

"Why?" Sparks rose as Kaye poked the fire.

"Because our democracy is in crisis. If Bush gets re-elected, his puppeteers might try to suspend the Constitution. I consider this as an emergency expenditure."

"He can't win. George Bush is trying to tell women what they can and can't do with their own bodies! What if Kerry wins in a landslide and I don't get my refrigerator?"

"It's not going to be a landslide." I handed Kaye another piece of alder to put on the fire. "Half the voters in this country care more about preventing homosexual marriage than they do about the fact that we're killing thousands of people in Iraq, because Karl Rove decided Bush could be re-elected if he were the 'war president'. This election's going to be a squeaker, Kaye. How would you feel if Bush won the election by a few votes after clayheads in swing states were persuaded by the Republicans' larger advertising budget?"

"No, how would you feel," she countered, "if Bush wins the election and we don't even have that new refrigerator?!" I caught her drift. She was suggesting that, since we were doomed to live in a totalitarian state anyway, we might as well have an automatic icemaker for our mixed drinks. I knew I was going to lose the argument.

The news from Iraq kept getting worse and worse as the month wore on. The world saw photographs of US soldiers playing sadistic games with Iraqi prisoners. Vice-president Cheney's pet Iraqi informant went from receiving a million bucks every three months to being arrested. Cheney, apparently, was looking for a fall guy because he needed an excuse for all the lies he told to justify a war on Iraq.

"I can't stand it anymore!" Kaye was in the living room watching 60 Minutes on TV one Sunday evening. "These people are all denying knowing anything about the abuses in Iraqi prisons! Here we are, invading another country and saying the rules don't apply because they're terrorists, then we send a bunch of kids over there to be turnkeys and tell them to 'soften up' the prisoners. And Bush says this is limited to six people! Does he think we're idiots?!"

"Kaye, you're yelling."

"Rumsfeld apologizes for all the prisoner abuse that's happened on his watch---likely with his tacit approval---and Shrub says he's doing 'a superb job'! This is insane! I don't want a refrigerator anymore. When we get out of debt, let's give Kerry the $2,000."

"I already did," I said, shuffling my feet.

"What?" Kaye glared at me. "You said you were going to wait until we were out of debt. And what if I still wanted my new refrigerator?"

"I thought there'd be money for both Kerry and the refrigerator. I know for sure that enough money is coming in to pay off one of the lines of creditl. I'm in the process of trying to settle a big case that will push us over the top. I'll know for sure tomorrow."

"You said you weren't making any big expenditures until the lines of credit were paid off."

"I know," I said somewhat defensively. "I wasn't going to until I got a fax from the Kerry Campaign last week, inviting us to dinner with the candidate next Wednesday at the Westin Hotel. For $2,000 we could sit in the 'Gold Circle'. I figured as long as we're going to give him the money anyway, we might as well get a meal out of it, and maybe a chance to schmooze as well."

Kaye didn't say anything and turned her attention back to 60 Minutes. I went to my desk.

"What do you think people will be wearing at the Westin?" Kaye stood at the door to my study after 60 Minutes was over.

"Well, it starts at 5:30 so a lot of people will be coming from work." I turned in my chair to face her, feeling relieved that there wasn't to be a fight over my surreptitious $2,000 donation. "I'd be coming straight from work so I'd wear my normal 'lawyer costume'. But the cheapest plate costs $1,000. For that kind of money, I'd guess that women will dress to the nines even if they don't drip diamonds like Republican broads do at these types of functions."

Kaye was quiet for a minute, then said: "Let's go to the Westin." At 4:15 the afternoon of Wednesday, May 26th, I left my office in Fishermen's Terminal to pick up Kaye from her office in Belltown. She took an extra dress to work that morning, intending to change before leaving. I pulled in front of Kaye's building. When she stepped out I had to catch my breath. Kaye was stunning in a black silk dress. Sheer and slinky, it clung to her curves as she walked toward the car. Parking was easier than expected and we arrived early at the Westin Hotel, next to Seattle's 1962 Monorail. Security was ubiquitous. Countless rent-a-cops and Kerry volunteers dealt with long lines of people showing up for the event.

"Kerry got quite the turn-out, it seems," I commented to Kaye as we stood in line on the fourth floor to receive our seat assignment. "Everybody here is wearing 'northwest casual'," Kaye said. "I'm overdressed."

I looked around. Deborah Senn was working the crowd, in her bid to be elected state Attorney General, pumping hands vigorously. I saw no tuxedos, jewels or low-cut necklines. "You're right," I told Kaye. "I guessed wrong about this being for fatcats only. Most of these people appear normal. That makes you the most attractive and well-dressed woman here."

"I feel like I'm standing out."

"No, you are outstanding---the belle of the ball!"

"Don't bullshit me, John. I'm going to the restroom."

Kaye and I hooked up again at the entrance to the Grand Ballroom. I was greatly relieved at seeing the overflow crowd. "We're at Table 106," I told Kaye when she came back from the restroom. "We've got the nosebleed seats, for the minimum donation level of $1,000, aka the Silver Circle." "Why? You sent in $2,000."

"They said it's 'per seat'. At least there's free beer and wine. Let's go sit with the other paupers."

There were 12 chairs at Table 106. Four other people were seated when Kaye and I took our places. I asked the attractive, dark-haired waitress to bring plenty of wine bottles, as the table filled up fast. A young couple sat down, the woman immediately to my right. I started asking her about her political leanings.

"Stop drinking wine!" Kaye hissed into my left ear. "You're going to get twisted and interview everybody at the table."

"I'll behave," I said, while watching a couple of security dudes move aggressively toward a boisterous occupant of another table. "I promise."

The joint was jumping. I tried to calculate how much money Kerry had corralled. We were at Table 106, and Table 115 seemed to be the end of the road for last-minute donors. The tables all had 12 seats, and were virtually all full. "Even at only $1,000 a seat, that's well over a million bucks, right there!" I didn't know where the $2,000 per seat Gold Tables were, nor how many. It took $25,000 for a "photo-op" with Kerry, and I had no idea on which Elysian Fields those people sat. "Are you from India?" I asked our waitress as she brought dinner. "No, Egypt." She smiled at me, apparently confident that I wasn't a Homeland Security kind of guy.

After she left to get more plates, I turned to Kaye. "Two thousand bucks for dinner and we get served rubber chicken?" My comment was a little too loud. A few occupants of Table 106 looked at me and nodded silently in agreement.

"This isn't about food, John." Kaye delicately sliced in half one of the two asparagus spears on her plate. "You said you were going to behave." "OK, I'll shut up. But this chicken is so over-cooked that it will take 'plenty wine' to wash it down.

Kaye didn't respond.

Shortly after I dispatched the rubber chicken, in silence, the speakers started. Kaye and I turned our chairs around to face a giant American flag, backdrop for the stage. Senator Maria Cantwell started the show with a speech, introducing Representatives Adam Smith and Norm Dicks. "She's a firecracker," Kaye said of Maria Cantwell. "Who are those guys with her?"

"Democratic Congressmen," I responded. "Cantwell is attractive, Smith jumped on the Kerry bandwagon early on, and Norm Dicks has been around for a long time. But none of them are saying anything new. These are stump speeches they've given hundreds of times before!"

Teresa Heinz Kerry spoke next. Attractive and articulate, she was soft-spoken and her words---caring and funny---seemed to come from the heart. "She's telling the truth!" Kaye exclaimed.

Then Ms. Heinz said it was her ninth wedding anniversary. After she and John Kerry embraced, she said: "I think I've found a guy who can save America." In what struck me as impromptu comments, she went on to say that Rush Limbaugh didn't like her hair, for some reason, and that European leaders really did want George Bush to lose the election. Rep. Smith appeared again to introduce John Kerry. Kerry came on to stand in front of the flag, accompanied by rock'n'roll music. Another stump speech. But in one comment that might have been customized for that evening, Kerry said he knew Teresa's heart was in the campaign after he asked her what she wanted for an anniversary present. Her response, according to Kerry: "27 electoral votes from Florida."

Kerry finished and left the stage, as Chuck Berry's "Johnny B. Goode" blared from the speakers. The event had lasted two hours. Kaye drove us home.

The media reported that Kerry raised $2.2 million that night, a record for any candidate in the history of Washington state. Kaye says she doesn't want a new refrigerator unless she gets a new president first.

John Merriam is a former merchant seaman who now works as a lawyer in Seattle representing all types of seamen on wage and injury claims.