We had a busy weekend on the Denn Campaign, including stops at the 18th District Democratic Committee, the Interdenominational Ministers Action Council MLK Celebration, and the A. Philip Randolph Institute’s monthly meeting. One of the real highlights was a visit that Zach and I made to the second annual dinner sponsored by the PKU Families of Delaware. (For those of you asking yourselves “what does this have to do with the weird expression on your face in this picture or the title of this post,” I will get to that.)
PKU is an inherited metabolic disease that results in mental retardation and other neurological problems when not treated. Many children with PKU cannot eat foods containing protein. A synthetic formula is used as a nutritional substitute for the eliminated foods, however it is very expensive. Last year, I worked with several families who have children with PKU to get a bill passed mandating that the nutritional substitute be covered by health insurance policies. This disease does not affect a lot of families, but for the ones affected this bill was a huge deal—it will allow them to ensure that their kids get the supplements they need to avoid neurological damage, without having to lose their savings. The families did all the heavy lifting in getting the bill passed, and they should be proud of themselves.
Anyway, the families were nice enough to give me a plaque and a thank-you card at the dinner Saturday night, along with a picture of the PKU bill-signing ceremony with the Governor. And looking at my bizarre expression in the picture brought to mind a perennial problem for those of us involved in politics: what to do when the Governor is signing a bill in front of you. The bill-signing ceremony is always a great event—it is the culmination of a lot of hard work, everyone involved in the success gathers together and says nice things about each other and what the bill is going to do, the Governor speaks, and then the moment arrives for her to sign the bill. The photographers close in. The attendees are squeezed in behind the Governor.
Now what? The shocked “Oh my God, I can’t believe Jordan just hit that three-pointer” look is not appropriate—there is no surprise in what is happening. Other options—dumping a bucket of Kool-Aid on the Governor, yelling to the Governor that he has spelled his name wrong and then saying “psych!”, giving the person next to you a wet willie, all seem somehow inadequate to the occasion—and in the first case, can be a good way to get hurt. So what everyone does instead is focus intently on the Governor’s hands. Hence, the above picture, featuring a couple of adults tending to their children, and the rest of us appearing to be absolutely fascinated by the Governor’s hands.
Tomorrow, the House of Representatives is scheduled to take up a bill that I have proposed to regulate medical discount cards, which some unscrupulous companies have been using to take advantage of the uninsured in Delaware. The bill has already passed the State Senate, and I am hoping to have the chance to gaze at the Governor’s hands on this one.
PKU is an inherited metabolic disease that results in mental retardation and other neurological problems when not treated. Many children with PKU cannot eat foods containing protein. A synthetic formula is used as a nutritional substitute for the eliminated foods, however it is very expensive. Last year, I worked with several families who have children with PKU to get a bill passed mandating that the nutritional substitute be covered by health insurance policies. This disease does not affect a lot of families, but for the ones affected this bill was a huge deal—it will allow them to ensure that their kids get the supplements they need to avoid neurological damage, without having to lose their savings. The families did all the heavy lifting in getting the bill passed, and they should be proud of themselves.
Anyway, the families were nice enough to give me a plaque and a thank-you card at the dinner Saturday night, along with a picture of the PKU bill-signing ceremony with the Governor. And looking at my bizarre expression in the picture brought to mind a perennial problem for those of us involved in politics: what to do when the Governor is signing a bill in front of you. The bill-signing ceremony is always a great event—it is the culmination of a lot of hard work, everyone involved in the success gathers together and says nice things about each other and what the bill is going to do, the Governor speaks, and then the moment arrives for her to sign the bill. The photographers close in. The attendees are squeezed in behind the Governor.
Now what? The shocked “Oh my God, I can’t believe Jordan just hit that three-pointer” look is not appropriate—there is no surprise in what is happening. Other options—dumping a bucket of Kool-Aid on the Governor, yelling to the Governor that he has spelled his name wrong and then saying “psych!”, giving the person next to you a wet willie, all seem somehow inadequate to the occasion—and in the first case, can be a good way to get hurt. So what everyone does instead is focus intently on the Governor’s hands. Hence, the above picture, featuring a couple of adults tending to their children, and the rest of us appearing to be absolutely fascinated by the Governor’s hands.
Tomorrow, the House of Representatives is scheduled to take up a bill that I have proposed to regulate medical discount cards, which some unscrupulous companies have been using to take advantage of the uninsured in Delaware. The bill has already passed the State Senate, and I am hoping to have the chance to gaze at the Governor’s hands on this one.
No comments:
Post a Comment