COLUMBUS _ Uncle Chet blew in like a tumbleweed, hung his hat on a hook and kept on going all the way to the hearth.
"Howdy,'' I said from the sink, where I was loading the dishwasher.
"No `howdy' please. If you mean hello, say `hello,'" he said as Alice came in behind him and removed her coat.
``He's been in a bad mood all week," she disclosed, ``ever since we won New Hampshire."
Hon laughed and I shook my head.
"What's the matter with `howdy'?" I asked as I stuffed in a final plate and shut the door.
"Howdy' is a corruption of how do you do,'' he said, "usually delivered in a phony Southern accent, something like `how-day,' and it reminds me of John Edwards, whose accent is so thick, it must be contrived.''
"You don't think that's real?'' asked Hon.
"Well, his wife don't twang like that, and Huckabee from Arkansas don't twang and Carter from Georgia don't twang,'' he said. ``I don't think even Pancho Villa twanged like that.''
"Maybe that's why he's not winning many votes,'' I posited.
"Exactly why,'' said Uncle Chet. ``It's off-putting, bizarre in the 21st century to hear Edwards pipe up, y'all, like he's an extra on the set of `Gone With the Wind.' It diminishes everything he has to say, which is plenty. I feel like telling him to take all that money he spends on his hair and invest in elocution lessons.''
"Maybe he should just learn how to cry,'' I said, and brought out some Saranac beer.
"Thank you,'' said Alice, who'd taken a seat in the rocking chair and seemed in tip-top spirits.
"Don't even go there,'' said Uncle Chet. "But that was brilliant, and as soon as I saw it, I knew Obama was cooked. Even I felt bad for her."
"Still got 48 states to go,'' I said.
"True, but I'm not optimistic. The theme of the year is supposed to be `change' and now they're offering us a 71-year-old war horse and a 60-year-old ex-first lady. Somehow I don't see that's drawing out the youth vote and leading to peace, economic justice and single-payer health care.''
"He's just sour grapes because the voters like Hillary,'' Alice said.
"I don't like her,'' I said. ``But it's certainly not because she's a woman.''
No one responded, and for a few moments, we listened to the kids hollering outside, where they were having a snowball fight.
I turned to Hon. ``You don't think my opposition to Hillary has anything to do with gender, do you?"
"Yes, I do," she said.
"You do?''
"Of course it does,'' said Alice. "You and every other man in the country, especially my man, are having a hard time accepting that a woman can be president.''
"I don't think that's true,'' I said. ``I'd vote for a woman in a minute; just not that woman.''
"Watch it,'' said Uncle Chet.
"Well, which woman would you vote for?'' asked Alice.
"Well, uh, Barbara Jordan," I struggled.
"She's dead,'' Alice noted. "So you'd vote for a dead woman, but not a live one?''
"No, I didn't really mean that.''
I felt hot, realized I was blushing, which got me mad because I knew I was right. Wasn't I? But what woman would I vote for? Pelosi? One of the Code Pink patriots, whose name I don't even know?
``I think it's time we had a woman president,'' said Alice. ``Hillary's a Democrat, she's educated, experienced, and I plan to vote for her Feb. 5.''
``I'm not,'' said Uncle Chet. ``I'm voting for Obama if he sharpens his claws, or Edwards, if he can learn how to speak American.''
``Oh, that Y chromosome,'' Alice shook her head, and they all looked at me.
"They've got me cornered,'' I told Uncle Chet. ``I guess I'm going to vote for a woman president for the first time in my life.''
``Don't do it,'' he said.
``Got to, you've all convinced me,'' I said. ``I'm voting for Cynthia McKinney, the Green candidate, and then no one can say I'm biased against women.''
``Sure we can,'' said Alice. ``You're only voting for her because she has no chance to win.''
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Cooperstown News Bureau Reporter Tom Grace is traveling with his Uncle Chet, who he says is imaginary. Grace's column appears every other week.
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