I was killing time with the boys in a bar Tuesday night when I suddenly realized: Holy shit, Billy C’s about to make another one of his fabulous convention speeches.
Within an instant, I was on my bike, racing home as fast as I could pedal.
And yet, he’s still got the great Clintonian moves—his timing and pace are perfect. He can still make his voice catch with emotion. I feel like I’m watching a great old quarterback limping to the huddle to lead his team on one last march up the field.
“I turned red and she laughed that big laugh of hers. And, well, heck, since my cover’s been blown, I just went ahead and asked her to take a walk down to the art museum. We’ve been walking and talking and laughing together ever since.”
I know I must be like millions of other baby boomers all over America—thinking back to the day our children were born.
Speaking of which, his chronology eventually reaches 1997—the year he was up to his eyeballs in the whole Monica Lewinsky thing.
