So Ann Romney doesn't have any real life experiences?
Doesn't know a thing about difficulty?
…that her gilded life has shielded her from the day-to-day concerns of average folks?
Now, you would think after Hilary Rosen spouted that nonsense, we would be done debating this nonsense.
But you'd be wrong.
Here to pick up the shovel and happily dig an even deeper clueless pit…no less than the president of NOW, the National Organization of Women...Terry O'Neill.
…happily chiming in that neither Ann Romney nor her husband, for that matter, have the, and I quote here, "Kind of life experience and if not, the imagination, to really understand what most American families are going through right now."
What the hell does that mean?
"Life experience" and "imagination"?
I suspect either would be news to Ann Romney.
...whose charmed life raising six boys, no less, apparently couldn't prevent her from getting cancer.
And only a few years later, multiple sclerosis.
The odds of getting both in one lifetime, are about as daunting and rarified as living in that supposedly cushy one percent…times a thousand!
I should know.
Because full disclosure here…I too have had cancer. And I too have MS.
Now, I’m not saying this not to get your sympathy…although it’ll be coming in handy If might rub you the wrong way or if I can get out of work at home.
But to remind these mindless, heartless critics –Let’s get back to Ann, stick to the issues, and stick all this other nonsense somewhere else.
And for God's sake, show a little empathy.
Walk a mile in Ann’s supposedly designer moccasins.
Not fun. Not easy.
And take it from me. Kind of painful. Kind of tiring. Kind of a drag…knowing your body is slowly recoiling into a physical shell of what it was, and you can’t stop it. Not what you were and not what you will ever be.
Every bit of energy slowly sapped.
A lot of important details over time not so slowly ripped.
...forever pondering the imponderable, over what is incurable.
I don't know about Ann, but I would gladly give up a lot of the stuff I own...to get rid of this damn, draining, almost humiliating disease that I have.
But then I wake up. And I have to move on.
Only difference is…Ann does it with a smile.
And a hug.
Even on those late campaign nights when she proudly introduces her husband to the world, for every primary, every caucus, every night, every time…when I suspect Ann Romney would sooner just plop down in bed. I know I would.
But not Ann.
I've known much poorer folks who'd stop everything for a hangnail.
That doesn't make them bad.
But assuming there are somehow "classes" to pain. Well that’s very bad. That’s very sick. And that is very wrong.
Courage is not defined by the cash in your wallet.
I suspect, more, the strength in your heart.
I also suspect that a world looking at this supposedly charmed couple, refuse to see much past the charm…
Maybe because the husband is reluctant to talk about how he stopped everything…everything to help make his mate better…the ultimate test of a marriage.