I never thought I’ be comparing my husband Doo to my president-crush Lyndon Johnson, but apparently once your life as a dance mom ends, you resort to weird topics.
As an American history teacher, I “fall in love” with historical figures all the time. Alexander Hamilton, Martin Luther King Jr., Ruth Bader Ginsburg – they each make my Top Five. But during the last few years, I’ve consistently come back to LBJ as my No. 1. The way the 6-foot-4, foul-mouthed Texan, who came to the presidency in the wake of John F. Kennedy’s assassination, essentially bullied Congress into passing some of the greatest pieces of domestic legislation ever, and then crashed down amid the chaos and confusion of Vietnam, speaks to me in ways that other dead people, or soon-to-die, people don’t.
And I just now realized that the reason I’m obsessed with LBJ is because I’m attracted to bad boys with good hearts. Case in point, my husband Doo. The direct opposite of me, he drinks, occasionally smokes and can still party like it’s 1999. But he also isn’t afraid to fight for things he deems right. Over Labor Day weekend, for example, one of our sisters-in-law returned from a walk, upset that some old lady had blocked her from going down a street which, though marked “private,” has always been open to the community. Doo was immediately up in arms, beer in hand of course. “Let’s protest! I’m going down there right now! Free the lane!”
Clearly not as important as equality for all, but the passion is the same. And that’s why I love Doo (and LBJ).
Ugh, I miss dance.