It’s hard to imagine a pre-9/11, less security intensive, more open dialogue with our leaders world, but I recall living in such a time. In 1996, I had the chance to attend the Democratic National Convention in Chicago, Illinois. I was there under a variety of auspices.

My cousin, Charlotte Pritt, was the Democratic nominee for Governor of West Virginia and the first woman nominated for that office. I also was an alternate for the Arkansas Delegation. In addition, I was a blogger in the early days of the internet writing reports for a fledgling political news service. I had it good for someone three years out of high school. I had my computer with me, as well as expenses paid, and had family to hang out with and celebrate with. Standing side by side with my cousin, with our arms around each other’s waists, and taking part in the balloon drop was awesome.

But as I was a “blogger”, a term yet not identified, and an alternate, and a V.I.P., I had 3 different types of passes and was able to wander and watch as well as take part in the convention from all levels.

This is how I met Geraldine Ferraro. I had seen her briefly before at a reception EMILY’s List held for my cousin. On another day, another blogger and I were running around on the V.I.P. level just celebrity spotting and having fun. We had wandered earlier into Nancy Pelosi’s skybox and been treated to some shrimp cocktail and one of my first rum & cokes. Now I was outside by myself and had shagged a can of Coca Cola.

Suddenly a rush of people, press, and dignitaries came through the hallway that was set up. It was getting kind of cramped. For awhile because of Secret Service (I later learned it was Tipper Gore), we were stopped and who should I see — smaller than me in height but not in stature — Geraldine Ferraro looking crisp in a red blazer with black lapels and matching black skirt.

I said, “Oh my God, you are Geraldine Ferraro!”

She smiled and said, “You got it kid.”

We started chatting and she could see I had a cold can of Coke with the bubbles of condensation rolling down it. Now, to no one ever in a similar situation, you cannot fully understand what a Coke looks like.

Mrs. Ferraro smiled at me after some chatter and said, “Hey kid, wanna split that pop?”

I smiled, popped the can, and offered it to her. She drank most of it, but it was a desperate time, still stuck in the crowd, and hot and she said, “You can drink after me. I am safe. I am a mom.” I smiled and did.

She had that quality of being a mom and being a lady. Sure, she had been the first woman nominated for Vice President by a major political party. She was a former United States Congresswoman and District Attorney from New York City. But at that moment, she could have been my Mom or any of my friend’s Moms. We talked some politics but talked more about sites in Chicago, where I went to college, baseball even. When I told her I was a Baltimore Orioles fan, she chuckled and said, “I had a better chance at winning the Vice President’s office.”

She was an amazing woman but she had the ability to not be too grand. Soon the crowd thinned and we started moving. She was off to be…well Geraldine Ferraro and I was off to be myself.

This country always talks about how they wish their elected officials were more like everyday people. You don’t get much more everyday than a Mom, a young guy, a can of Coke, and talking about baseball.

R.I.P. Geraldine Ferraro.

Photos via Wikimedia Commons.