Last Saturday morning Greta and I cruised to the fabulous Farmer's Market that descends on Santa Barbara each weekend. We often choose the Farmer's Market for our weekly supply of veggies and fruitstuffs.
As we cruised through the aisles, I noticed the Barack Obama supporters table, a fixture at the Farmer's Market (I can only assume the John McCain table was at a local gun show). As we passed the table the first time, I thought borderline pleasant political thoughts. Later, after picking up a heavy supply of strawberries, we passed the left-wingers again. This time, someone spoke to me.
I heard, "Excuse me, sir? Excuse me?" Immediately my "run-away-from-cell-phone-pimps-at-the-mall" defenses went up. For some reason, I ignore my defenses. Although everything inside of me did not want to turn around in the middle of the Downtown Santa Barbara bastion of liberalism and explain to the kindly people behind the card table why I would not, in fact, be voting for their version of change, I turned anyway.
Democrat guy: "Um, excuse, sir?"
Democrat guy: "Do you know Hebrew?"
Me: "Um, kind of."
Democrat guy: "Could you read this? We just got them in and nobody knows what they say."
At this point Democrat guy extends a bumper sticker to me with something scrawled across it in unpointed Hebrew. Unpointed meaning without the vowels. Further meaning not the kind I learned how to read. Fortunately, as with most things in the political realm, this was lowest-common-denominator kind of stuff.
Me: "It says 'Barack Obama.'"
Democrat guy: (to his Democrat buddies) "Oh, it says 'Barack Obama!' That's great! Thanks, man. You should take this bumper sticker. Since you're the one who read it, you should have it!"
Me: "No thanks, that's alright."
Democrat guy: "No really, man. How about this button, then? It's the only one we have in Hebrew, but it's yours. Really, I insist."
Me: "Uh, thanks."
With that I slipped the button into my pocket and walked away beside my beaming/laughing wife. The button is now prominently displayed on the cork board beside the microwave.
So, how did Democrat guy single me out to begin with, you ask? Why not grab some other schmuck and ask him to translate the button? Well, everyone else must have left their Hebrew-language shirts from the Dallas Seminary bookcenter in the closet that morning.