Gabby_ A Story of Courage and Hope - Alison Hanson [149]
A crowd of people surrounded Gabby. She greeted some by name. To others she said, “Good to see you” or “I missed you.” She was completely poised. It was an electric moment, but Pia knew that all the good wishes and embracing would have to wait. The clock was ticking. Before the voting period ended in about four and a half minutes, Gabby would need to make her way to one of the forty-six voting stations scattered throughout the chamber.
The closest machine was about five steps away, but a mob of House members was in the way. Pia and Debbie held Gabby’s arms and helped navigate. “Let Gabby through!” Debbie said in that Long Island train-conductor accent of hers. Given the crowd, it took two minutes to walk those five steps.
When Gabby reached the machine, she knew exactly what she had to do. She steadied her left hand on the voting box, which is about two inches wide and four inches long, and stuck her card into the slot. A blue button was supposed to light up, indicating the voting station was activated. The light didn’t work. Before anyone could say anything, Gabby pulled out her card and tried again. This time, she got the blue-light signal to proceed.
For the next step, Gabby needed to negotiate the three other colored buttons on the box. The green button would indicate a “yea” vote, the red button “nay,” and the amber button “present.” Members were reaching out to lend Gabby a hand, and Debbie told them, “Back away! She can do it!” Of course she could. Gabby had voted here hundreds of times. She pressed the green button, and her “yea” vote was reported with all the others above the Speaker’s dais. A moment that seemed impossible on January 8 was now a reality.
The voting continued but attention in the room was laser-focused on Gabby. Members crowded around her, everyone speaking at once. Vice President Joe Biden approached her and was very affable. “I rushed over as soon as I heard you might be here,” he said.
The civil rights legend John Lewis, whom Gabby had voted for in early January to be Speaker of the House, made his way to her side. Pia saw that Gabby was thrilled by his attention. Gabby responded to him so respectfully, mindful that she was a junior member of Congress and he was a civil rights pioneer with twenty-four years of service in the House. She knew he’d been beaten almost to death during several protest marches, and that his skull had been fractured when he marched in Selma in 1965. As always, she was honored to be in his presence.
“God bless you, child,” he said to her, and kissed her forehead. She put her left hand up to his cheek. When he said goodbye and turned away, he broke down crying.
Gabby was on the floor for about fifteen minutes. Then she was back in the car, headed for the hotel. She seemed completely happy on the ride, but the whole experience had drained her. “Wiped out,” she said.
We all told her how proud of her we were, and she smiled.
“Gabby, you were brave to walk into that mob,” I said. “I didn’t expect that wave of people coming at you, but you held your own, you didn’t get knocked down, and you voted! Great job, sweetie!”
“Thank you,” she said. “Whew, I’m tired.”
Back at the hotel, we watched the news coverage of the vote, which passed, 269 to 161. Sixty-six Republicans and ninety-five Democrats voted against it. Gabby was moved by all the attention to her appearance on the floor. Her friend Debbie Wasserman Schultz gave an interview to CNN. “All our hearts were so full,” she said. “You had grizzled, hardened members with very hardened hearts, and everybody just melted when Gabby walked in the chamber. It was so incredible.” Debbie spoke of jaws dropping, of tears flowing, of how partisan bickering fell away at the sight of their injured colleague.
Gabby worked the TV remote, surveying the coverage. She was pleased with what she had accomplished. “Proud of me,” she said.