On Friday, the 13th of this July, thus spake Obama in Roanoke, Virginia: “And when I think about that first campaign, what strikes me is no matter where I went, no matter who I was talking to, I could see my own life in the life of the people whose vote I was asking for.” (h/t Daily Caller)
Yes, of course. Let me see now. Exempli gratia:
Born in 1917 in a dirt-poor part of the Carpathians. Worked like an animal from the age of 10 to help the family survive, even while earning top grades in the gymnasium. In 1939, halfway through his medical studies, thrown out of the university because of the Nazi invasion of Czechoslovakia. In 1940, inducted into the Hungarian Army’s slave labor battalions whose official policy was to work Jews to death. From 1940 through 1944, hewed tunnels and fortifications out of living rock with nothing but a pick so his masters could defend themselves against the “Red tide.” Shipped to the Munkacs ghetto in 1944 when his Hungarian masters surrendered. Transported to Auschwitz in May 1944 when the ghetto was evacuated.
Watched his entire surviving family go “to the left” (i.e. gas chambers and crematoria) on arrival in Auschwitz, while he alone went to the right.
Further evacuations and death marches to Mauthausen, Lieberose, Sachsenhausen. Near death, escaped from a death march in April 1945. Liberated, repatriated, sick with typhus, dysentery and weighing just about half his pre-war weight. Returned to his medical studies in 1945, obtained his doctorate in 1948, mere months after the communist putsch. Survived seventeen years of socialism as a member of the intelligentsia, a Jew, the son of a minor businessman and a non-Party member (all severely socially undesirable labels). Led his family on a death-defying escape across the Iron Curtain. By dint of determination, his own talent and hard work, made good in the United States, building a successful medical practice and security for himself and his family.
Gave his children and grandchildren a life in freedom.
Yes, I can readily see how a Suburban American Prince like Obama could see himself in my father’s life.
Oh, wait! This is the wrong, ahem, narrative! Obama couldn’t possibly have asked for my father’s vote, since my father had died before Obama sought to acquire the Presidency.
Obama is right, of course.