Here Comes Trouble - Michael Moore [32]
And it was while I was there, inside the Capitol building, that I found myself separated from my mother and sisters and our cousin Patricia. We were on our way to sit in the Senate gallery as the senators were debating a bill that would provide free health care for all the old people in America. But I got distracted by the statues and sharing the life of Zachariah Chandler with whomever would listen.
Eventually it dawned on me that I was all alone and on my own. My mother and sisters were nowhere in sight. I began to panic. Where did they go? Why did they leave me here? I may have thought I was a smart kid, but I had no idea where I was, where they were, or how I would find them. At age eleven, the Capitol Rotunda seemed like its own planet to me or, worse, a giant white marble vortex spinning madly and sucking everything into it. I tried to catch my breath and began walking quickly in whatever direction seemed like the way out.
I somehow ended up on the Senate side of the building and went down a staircase, looking frantically for any sign of my family. Realizing I was getting nowhere, I bolted through a pair of elevator doors just as they were closing.
Inside the elevator I began to cry. There was a lone man in the back corner, leaning against the railing, his face covered by the newspaper he was reading. He heard my sniffling and put the paper down to see what the commotion was all about.
As I had been properly schooled in all things political and Catholic, I instantly recognized this man. He was the junior senator from New York, Robert Francis Kennedy.
“What’s wrong, young man?” he said in a voice that was comforting enough to stop the tears. After all, no one had ever called me a young man before.
“I lost my mom,” I said sheepishly.
“Well, that can’t be good. Let’s see if we can find her.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“Where are you from?”
“Michigan. Near Flint.”
“Oh, yes. My brother loved that Labor Day Parade. Big parade.”
The doors of the elevator opened, and he put his arm on my shoulder and escorted me to the nearest Capitol police officer.
“Seems this young man from Michigan…” He turned to me. “What’s your name, son?”
“Michael. Moore.”
“Michael has lost his mother, and perhaps we can help him.”
“Yes, sir, Senator. We’ll take care of it.” The officer told the senator he’d handle the matter from here on so that the senator could proceed with his much more important duties.
“Well, I’ll stay here for a minute or two to make sure he’s OK.”
I stood there thinking how stupid did I have to be to get lost, and now I was holding up Bobby Kennedy and the business of the United States Senate so that everybody could go search for my mommy. Jeez-oh-pete, was I embarrassed.
“How old are you, Mike—can I call you Mike?” Kennedy asked.
“I’m eleven. This is my first time in the Capitol,” I offered, hoping to make myself seem less like an idiot.
“Well, you got your first ride in the Senate elevator. That almost makes you a senator!” The Irish in him had now kicked in, and he flashed that Kennedy grin. I smiled, too, and joined in.
“Hey, you never know!” I said, then wanted quickly to retract this wise-ass remark.
“Well, we got two good Democrats from Michigan already, Senators McNamara and—”
“— Hart!” I jumped in as if I were on a quiz show.
“You know your senators. Very good! And promising,” he added with a wink to the officer.
“We’ve got his mother,” a voice squawked