By Sharon Crozier, guest writer.  

For the first 25 minutes, I was charmed and pacified by how rational and reassuring Congressman Rick Larsen (D-WA) was when he came to Our Little Island. He was handsome, had a great sense of humor, was very experienced and he felt our pain. I could relate to this guy.
 
When someone would express a concern about a current issue, Rick not only got it, but immediately shared a political detail that showed he was aware of the problem. When discussing the upcoming election, he had a sense of the country that indicated he knew it would not be Politics as Usual this year.
 
God, I suddenly loved him. Forgotten were the times he walked away from us and refused to talk about the war in Iraq. The times he voted for corporate interests over ours were a distant memory. My serotonin was beginning to surge--all of that must have been my imagination. The World was Working!
 
As I looked around the room and saw all the happy faces nodding in agreement with him, a little voice inside said, "They're all soft-balling him."
 
"Shut up voice! Doesn't it feel great to not worry about things? After all, didn't we send him to Congress so we wouldn't have to worry about "things?"
 
Voice: Ask him a question!
 
Me: Okay, damn it!
 
Me to Rick using my out loud voice: "Given that a major portion of our shoreline has recently been destroyed for the next several decades by an oil spill, do you think we should stop offshore drilling?"
 
He agreed it was a terrible tragedy. He said something like, "We still don't know what exactly happened there. We certainly have to figure out a way to stop the oil flowing."
 
"Why are we still letting BP handle the problem? It's been three weeks," said I.
 
Yes, he said, and they're finding huge oil plumes that haven't even surfaced yet. The president has sent experts.
 
Someone else said something about renewable energy sources and Rick said that we can't just flip a switch and be off oil. The implication was that, until there is such a switch, we need to drill.
 
I offered the point that if we were paying $5 a gallon or even more for fuel, it would be a lot cheaper than what the oil spill is going to cost our economy. He agreed.
 
I said that we can't afford to risk what coast we have left to such accidents. He nodded and agreed.
 
I said that no terrorist could have done anything more devastating than this to our economy. He nodded and agreed.
 
I told him I was pleased and proud of what our west coast Senators were doing to prevent drilling along our coastline. He said, "I don't believe we should ever drill on our coast."
 
Had I imagined it all? Was he really this straightforward and caring?
 
Voice: Ask him the question!
Me: Okay already!
 
Me to Rick: "Uh...so given how terrible this was, if it came up in the House of Representatives, would you vote to stop more drilling?"
 
Him: "You mean all drilling?"
 
Me: "No, just further development of offshore rigs."
 
Finally the old Rick Larsen we knew and loved shown through. He paused, frowned a little and said (very sincerely), "I don't know yet."
 
I thought I saw him start to lick his finger and hold it into the air, but maybe not.
 
Then the frosting, the coup de grace, the old song to which we'd learned to dance:
 
A man who had lost his family in a war, spoke to Rick about war not being a path to peace.
 
Rick said, "Nobody wants war."
Rick said, "I want what you want."
Rick said, "We're on course to withdraw all but 50,000 troops from Iraq, later to be replaced by civilians."
Rick said, "Afghanistan isn't that easy." And he explained why.
Rick said, "We just can't abandon those people by pulling out before they can be trained to replace our troops themselves."
 
Me to Rick: "Iraq was about oil."
Rick snapped, "Afghanistan didn't have oil."
I said, "No, we needed a gas pipeline there."
He said, "The terrorists were hiding there."
I asked, "If the terrorists had been from Canada or Mexico or France would we have invaded them and bombed those countries?"
 
This particular question being on Rick's Do Not Respond list, he turned his back and resumed talking with a local dignitary who started to defend him.
 
"Oh, he's used to this," I said.
He agreed, "Yes, I am."
 
And thus, our little affair ended, not with a bang but a stalemate. The irresistible force had met the immovable object once again. Ah, but the magic, the illusion had been so enticing. I wanted to believe, but...
 
The music has stopped, but my ears are still ringing. Somewhere there must be a candidate... And I still have one precious, shiny vote to give to my country.