My son tells me that security is impossible. That I should prepare for the very, very worst.

“My son is in the play, ” I tell them (them being security). Open sesame, no problemo.

My son tells me that my experience is an anomaly. That it will not happen again.

Apparently proud mothers are deemed a low security risk, because they (security) continue to open the security gate, no questions asked. They even smile–this can be unusual in New York City.

In the “talk back” after the play, one of the audience members asks, “What do you do when you burp?”

The question, which could have been awkward, is deftly handled by the young Shakespearean troop. A burp or even a sneeze would not be a distraction, but could be seen as part of the plot by the audience and the actors would move ever forward (sort of like proud mothers breezing through security gates).

And I suppose that would be true of the burps and sneezes in life. My own life burps and sneezes are noticed hardly, if at all, by the outside world. It is only in my own little brain that they have the possibility of becoming anything of consequence.

However, as I watch and follow the new president, from my home town of Newburyport, MA and elsewhere, as I’ve never watched or followed any president before, I realize that every burp, sneeze etc. appears to have major significance to at least someone and can be open to the possibilities of multiple burp, sneeze interpretations, i.e. distractions. Often, it seems, so much so, that a larger picture could be obscured by burp and sneezing stories (mostly, it seems to me by Republicans and media outlets in need of a story line). And I wonder if pride in one’s country could often be mucked up due to constant conjectures as to whether or not a political digestive tablet or a Kleenex might be necessary, making it difficult for everyone to get on with the plot, or of solving the gigantic Shakespearean size problems that lie before us.