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Watching the news coverage of our President and First Lady in Europe struck me as simultaneously exhilarating and odd. It was definitely cool to see foreign nations greet our President with an outpouring of excitement and admiration not seen since President Clinton did his globe trotting in the 90s, but at the same time it seemed to go beyond even that example. A French woman begging for a kiss, children at a London school overwhelmed and crying in the presence of Michelle Obama, foreign leaders falling over themselves to get into a picture with the President. It started to feel....creepy....and worrisome...and a bit too familiar.
Perhaps, some of this is because I have seen a microcosm of this phenomenon here in Los Angeles and ultimately, the bloom came off that rose.
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Entering the Mayor's second term, I don't think there are many people in Los Angeles who would argue that his orbit remains at the same stratospheric level as it was in his first year. His school reform attempts were much ado that came to nothing, traffic is still a nightmare after a brief flirtation with changing the direction of a few major streets, and there isn't anything special headed to the sea down Wilshire Boulevard. Consequently, the media spotlight is much dimmer these days. I can go weeks and occasionally months without seeing the Mayor on TV.
I'm not saying he didn't try hard and go in with the best of intentions to reach for the stars, but all that initial hoopla has magnified the inevitable removal of the pedestal that happens as time moves on.
While I like to think Obama is trying to be measured, reminding people at each press conference not to get too worked up as he attempts to slowly move things forward, I worry that in the not-so-distant future he might end up knowing what it was like to walk a mile in Antonio's shoes:
A rock star who was photographed at every turn, watched for every gesture and, in the end, scorned for failing to move heaven and earth as we had great expectations that he would.