My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys

“Sorry Ashley, we’re going to heaven.  You can’t come.” 

As a teensy, smocked and pigtailed little girl, my dear friend swinging higher than I’d ever seen her swing before, I watched with a lump in my throat.  It seemed possible.  She was very determined to have a chat with God.  And there wasn’t another empty swing.  I trembled, wondering how she was going to get back.  Even as a tot, I was an incurably analytical little thing.

As an adult, looking back on the memory, I can’t help but grab hearty chuckle and think to myself: well that wasn’t the last time I would hear somebody tell me I wasn’t going to heaven.

But that day, I was really worried about missing the trip!

Just when I thought that I was moments away from never-ever seeing my friend again . . . Milly dropped her baby doll.  Yep, Milly dropped her baby doll beneath the swing set and one of the little boys scooped it right up and ran off.  His motives were less than gallant.  But I didn’t care.  She was off the swings, had postponed her trip to the pearly gates, and was preoccupied with the baby doll abduction.

Jay Carson was my hero that day.

Imagine my surprise when a friend called earlier this week and I found out that my accidental hero “provided nuggets of inspiration” for Stephen Meyers, the hot-shot who saves the day (insert question mark) in the Political Drama “The Ides of March.”

I’ve dabbled in politics.  

Harvard Model Congress  

United States House of Representatives 

Cleo Fields, Louisiana  

I, Cleo Fields, wrote and presented a Bill on Gun Control.  “I will never forget watching you prance down that center aisle in front of the entire Harvard Model Congress.  The whole time I was thinking WHAT is she doing”  Milly regaled the girls as we all howled with laughter at a dinner party one night.  “Or the way you shot down that one poor fellow who tried to argue with you -  Shut.  Him.  Down!”

The funny thing is that I don’t even remember a single moment of that 20 minutes or so.  Blank.  Totally, completely blank.  And at 35, the subject of my own politics is something that is extremely personal, a part of myself that I only share with close friends - more specifically, only the people whom I can trust will have an intelligent and open conversation, one that’s lacking an agenda.  I would rather scoop the stalls than give my “What Our Generation Can Do For Rotary” presentation again.  Talk about sweating bullets.  I’m far from an activist.  Maybe too far.

You see, as I read about Jay, I began to see what Clooney and crew found to be so inspirational.

Don’t hold your breath for a lettuce bikini.  But, every now and then, keep an eye out for that firecracker of an 18 year old in camel hair, toting an Au Bon Pain thermos and an attitude.

Here’s to Jay, who saved the day!

Now they call him a Hard-Hitting Hipster.

Let’s drink to the efforts of all our "high ridin’ heroes."

Our grats for the inspiration Mister.