Main Street

I woke up this morning thinking of Sarah Palin and Main Street. I resent her tarnishing my metaphor, since I have lived on two streets actually called Main Street. But then I realize something about the Sarah Palins and Ingrid Philipps of this world. We live Main Street lives, full of the middle class dreams that Main Street women have. No Wisteria Lanes for us. We marry the wrong men, work our butts off for our families, and drag the losers behind us for years. Our kids have some major issues and challenges that we cannot afford to fix by sending them to Ivy League schools. We have our kids too young by boomer standards, live in modest homes, watch too much TV and shop at local stores where we actually know the owner behind the counter. My Main St is a place where merchants and residents know each other well and have meaningful conversations. That reminds me to go pay my tab at Azzarello's, where Dave ran a tab for me while my wrist was broken and the ice kept me shut in.
So as much as I despise putting my name in the same sentence with Palin, I will, if only to reclaim Main St for people who don't shoot animals from helicopters and can see far beyond their front or backyards.