I wish I could say that I have met Trump’s choice for Secretary of Agriculture.  I almost did.  But almosts are not good enough.  When Sonny Perdue was the Governor of Georgia, I went to one of those ‘Eggs ‘N Issues’ breakfasts in Atlanta during the legislative session.  It was for educators.

I saw Sonny and he wasn’t talking to anyone.  Oh, I thought. Perfect opportunity to meet him.  One rarely sees the Governor by himself.  I walked up to him, extended my hand, and said, “Good morning, I’m ‘first name, last name.'”

He stared straight into my face, about 3 inches away, looked over my head (he had to stretch cause he’s short) to where he’d rather be, spotted a handler, and was quickly whisked away to some other, supposedly better location.  Somewhat humiliated, although no one else witnessed this dismal occurrence, I found my table and began eating my eggs ‘n issues.

I saw him at many other events while he was Governor and after he ceased to be Governor, but I never tried to meet him again.  Why bother?  I had my moment with the man, although now I can’t actually say that I’ve met Trump’s choice to be the Secretary of Agriculture.

When regailing my husband with this story the other day  (apparently I’d never even bothered to tell him when it happened) he said, “Perhaps he thought your face was so beautiful that he was speechless.”   I said, “Huh uh, I’ve been around enough politicians.  That’s not what he was thinking.”  He laughed, “Well, I was trying to turn it into a positive.” “Gee thanks,”  I said, “but no thanks.”

Well, I hope that someone on the Hill in D.C. this weekend gets to meet the new, not yet confirmed, Secretary of Agriculture.  But if not, maybe she will at least have a humorous blog to write.

dmzh