After driving around the block once, I parked next to the curb directly in front. I glanced up at the crumbling brick face of a massive structure. Once part of a school, it most likely had been the gymnasium, from the size of it.
I checked the address Cindie had scribbled on some scrap paper. I looked up again at the decaying façade. Blotchy numbers hanging askew matched. This apparently was the right place, although, I remained uncertain.
I was looking for a Public Library. This did not look like a Public Library, but it was the right address. I stepped out of the car, onto the sidewalk and walked over to the front door. This required walking through 6 inches of wet snow, which made my shoes wet, yuck.
At the door, I saw a sign taped up that had teeny-tiny little letters. It said, “Please use the West Entrance.” I was standing on the East side of the building, so I slogged back through the wet snow to my car and drove around to the other side of the building.
After parking, I took my wet feet to search around for an entrance into what was supposed to be a Public Library. There was a lot of construction going on, so at first, I couldn’t find an entrance. I was glad I left myself some time to be there early.
When I finally found a door and entered, it seemed as if I was transported. I was standing in a typical any town Public Library, stacks of books everywhere, reading tables, Librarians, the works. I finally found what I was looking for.
I walked up to the nearest official person I saw and asked, “Is this where Senator Grassley is having his Town Hall Meeting at 2:00 PM?”
“Why yes it is,” she said, and she directed me to where there were chairs set up, ready and waiting. They were metal folding chairs, sitting out in the open, arranged in neat rows.
I was there an hour before the Town Hall Meeting was scheduled to start. Apparently, I was the only one there and I had my pick of anywhere to sit that I wanted. I chose a seat right up front in the middle. I wanted to be sure that I was seen and heard.
Then, I patiently waited. Nervous, I did not have any idea what to expect. I did not know who was going to show up. I did not know what they were going to talk about. I never talked to my Senator before, about anything, ever.
But I was prepared for what I wanted to say today. I had all of my paperwork with me. I had fact sheets, documentation of what was going on in Ukraine with adoptions, information on Americans and international adoptions and stuff about UNICEF.
I had photographs of the two girls we are planning to adopt. I even had pictures of the 16 teenagers that came from the same orphanage in Odessa our girls are from that have been adopted into families here in our local area. I sat in my chair calmly waiting.
This was the idea of a staff member in Senator Grassley’s office. We called the Senator’s office asking for help with the situation in Ukraine. The aide suggested we speak to Senator Grassley directly. He was back home on a break and going around doing some local Town Hall Meetings.
We thought, “Wow, what an opportunity, what timing, and with President George Bush having a trip to Ukraine coming up.” What a privilege to be an American, to have the ear of influential leaders and to be able to do something like this.
So there I was. Not knowing what to expect, I was kind of hoping for a little private conversation on the side. You know, adopting two children into your family, it’s more like a personal thing. I just didn’t know. I was sweating it.
About one half hour before the Senator was due to arrive, people began to filter in, a few at first, then, a lot. I didn’t think many would come. After all, it seemed like the spot was hard to find, but it must just be me, because the place ended up packed with people.
I didn’t count, but there must have been at least 150, maybe more, a lot anyway. I was shaking in my boots, well, in my wet shoes. I was thinking, “Will I have to talk to my Senator in front of all of these people?”
Then it got worse. TV cameras came. I don’t know how many television stations were there, at least three. There was at least one from Sioux City and one from Sioux Falls. There may have been more, I don’t know, because by now I have this fear thing going. I’m sitting on the front row, frozen. I can’t move.
Oh, there were a lot of newspaper photographers too. They were probably worse because when they were taking pictures the cameras made loud clicking sounds and bright flashes that like SCREAMED that they were there. They never stopped taking pictures the whole time. I was freaked.
Senator Charles E. Grassley arrived right on time, took out a pen and a piece of paper to take notes and said that he planed on taking questions and taking notes for about an hour. He was standing right in front of me. I had the best seat. I was terrified. I wanted to help my kids but I did not want to be on the 6 o’clock news.
People launched into questions. They talked about the Farm Bill, Ethanol Subsidies, Taxes, Immigration, Health Care, on and on about all kinds of heavy and important political issues and topics. It was a perceptive and educated audience. Senator Grassley scribbled notes, asked questions, listened, explained; he was great.
As the session unfolded, I thought that my more personal topic seemed better suited to bring up toward the end. Maybe it was that I was just chicken. At any rate, I held back, waiting for the “right” moment. Senator Grassley said he would go for an hour, so I closely watched the clock and tracked the group’s momentum.
Suddenly, after only 45 minutes, one of the Senator’s aides jumped in and declared, “One more question, Senator.” I panicked. A voice inside my head screamed, “I have to speak! I came here to speak! It has to be me!” My hand shot up directly in front of the Senator.
I think I took him aback with my intensity. I had sat quietly in front of him the whole time until then. He was already in the motion of calling on a teenage boy in the back of the room behind me. My urgency caused him hesitation. He said, “Well… alright then, you in the back and then you here in the front.”
I composed myself while the last one asked his question. I sat straight, board-stiff, on the edge of my seat. I said a prayer. Amazingly, I felt calm. I knew what I would say. I knew it would be fine. Then it was my turn.
I stood up. I was aware of cameras as they clicked and flashed. I told our story, calmly, slowly. Senator Grassley listened. Several hundred other people listened. When I finished, The Senator asked me what he might be able to do to help.
I said that our facilitator thought that enlisting the aide of the US Ambassador in Ukraine might be beneficial, that Americans have a certain degree of influence in Ukraine right now, especially with the upcoming trip of President Bush to Ukraine.
I also wondered if there might be any influence that could be exerted to counteract the harm UNICEF policies have had toward Americans like us adopting older and special needs children internationally.
Senator Grassley whipped out a card and wrote down the name of a key staff member in his office that handles his business with foreign Embassies abroad. He asked me to contact her, saying that she would be able to give us assistance in working something out with the US Ambassador in Ukraine.
Then the Town Meeting was over. Many people swarmed me after the meeting, wanting to offer their support. It was a good feeling.
Senator Grassley’s aide came to me and told me that the Embassy specialist that Senator Grassley asked me to contact could only work on this for us if she is given the go ahead to do so by the Senator himself. That was why he suggested that I come to the meeting to talk to the Senator personally about our situation. Now his office can do something to help us.
I trudged back to my car in my wet shoes and started to drive home. I called Cindie at work on my cell phone to tell her how it came out. When she answered her phone, I could hardly talk. I was such a bundle of nerves and anxiety that afterward, I felt just like a soggy wet dishrag, all used up, exhausted. I was not cut out for this.
Cindie and I sent all of our information to Senator Grassley’s Embassy specialist. This resulted in Senator Grassley and our Congressman Steve King sending a wonderful, detailed and forceful letter to our US Ambassador in Ukraine. They sent it last Thursday, March 27, before President George Bush made his trip to Ukraine.
Ripples in a pond, we do not know how things effect other things, but off it goes. If it helps us get our girls, we may not know.
I was the first one moving through our sleepy and quiet house this morning. We were all out late last night, enjoying the girl’s first experience at an American baseball game. Our local minor league favorites were playing a home game and the evening finished with a dramatic firework show synchronized to music. Anya liked it so much she decided she wants to see a ball game everyday. We should see if she likes apple pie that much too.
