My parents were New Deal Democrats, often called “Yellow Dog Democrats.” That was shorthand for, “I’d rather vote for a yellow dog than a Republican.” I had weekly phone calls with them while they were still alive; they were in Rapid City, South Dakota, and I was in California. Mom would be on the wall phone in her white and baby-blue kitchen. I could picture it as we spoke and even smell the rhubarb pie she was baking. Mom and I would do most of the talking. My father would get on the extension in the hallway, in the little nook designed explicitly for telephones.
“How’s your car?”
“It’s fine,” I’d say. It wasn’t until I had gotten older that I realized my sweet father felt more comfortable inquiring about my car’s inner life than mine. And talking about politics — always politics! I still have the photo of him with Bill Clinton when Dad won “Democrat of the Century” in South Dakota.
In the ’90s, James Rogan was a far-right U.S. congressman and a Clinton impeachment house manager. Here in California, Rogan was challenged by upstart Adam Schiff in what was, at that time, the most expensive congressional campaign in history. Republican James Rogan’s war chest was so deep they could afford to send mailers to Democrats — a lot of them — and phone calls, too!
I was so offended that I devoted three consecutive columns to unseating Rogan. One Rogan letter was addressed to “Dear Snortland Family,” which consisted of me and three Dalmatians at the time. They were definitely Yellow Dog Democrats, so I had Pony, Victor and Maggie write back to Mr. Rogan. The essence of the first column was that they were expert sniffers and knew an “a-hole” when they smelled one… and ooh, boy, Rogan sure passed the sniff test! The second addressed substantive policy differences, and I went after Mr. Rogan’s ridiculous hair in the third. If women politicians got “reviews” for their looks, I decided I could do the same for Mr. Rogan. I asked, “If Mr. Rogan looks in the mirror and is fine with a hairdo that looks like roadkill, would you trust him to make decisions for you and your family?” I heard through the grapevine that the Rogan campaign office had a poster of my face on their dartboard. Yes!
The day after Adam Schiff was elected, he called and left a message on my answering machine, thanking me for helping him win! Later that year, when I was in D.C., citizen lobbying for Planned Parenthood, I thought, “What the heck, I’ll drop by Schiff’s office.” I asked his front desk guy if the Congressman was in.
“Who should I say is here?”
“Ellen Snortland: I’m a constituent.”
“An Ellen Snortland is here to see you.” A second later, Schiff bursts out of his office and announces, “This is Ellen Snortland; you can thank her for your job,” and then adds, “Do not (tick) her off!”
These stories illustrate how I’d now love to be on a Steve Garvey campaign dartboard.
What’s there to say about Steve Garvey? One immediate thing comes to mind: Do not vote for him! My three pint-sized dogs are not tall enough to sniff him out, nor have I received a mailer from his campaign. But what’s up with his hair? I’ll bet dimes to donuts the guy dyes his locks and has extensive hair plugs to have such a phony, perfect, youthful hairline at 75. If women’s hair and looks are fair game, so is Garvey’s coif. Ewww.
This again boils down to, “Do you want a phony like Garvey making decisions for you?”
Our American obsession with celebrities is unhealthy. I have a dear friend who sticks to her Drumpf (my term, not hers) crush solely because of “The Apprentice.” Movie star Reagan gutted unions and mental health care and promoted “trickle-down” economics, which history showed was twaddle and only whetted the whistles of the wealthiest.
If you look at Garvey’s accomplishments… what accomplishments other than former athleticism and cheating on wives? Do you want to help put another “empty suit” into a position of power?
My hero, Adam Schiff, is a man of honor, integrity, intelligence, courage and wit. He nailed it when he called Garvey a “MAGA Mini-Me in a baseball uniform.” Garvey has struck out: a loser with a capital “L.”
Shameless plug: In case you haven’t seen my solo show, “Now That She’s Gone,” I’m reprising it in Pasadena… and it’s free! It’s been described as “passionate, poignant and funny” as it explores the often hilarious, irreverent and sometimes torturous relationship I had with my Norwegian American mother. The show has received rave reviews and standing ovations worldwide. It happens at 2 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 26, Lamanda Park Branch Library, 140 S. Altadena Drive, Pasadena.
This post was originally published on this site be sure to check out more of their content.
