What We're Doing Here

I walked in late, the last to arrive; yesterday was a travel day, and it had been delays and missing the invitees' dinner and a steak with three Martinis to make up for that. The rest were sitting at the table, chatting. The conversation, exclusively female, ebbed when I walked in - not quite the "everyone suddenly stops talking/sound effects guys insert sound of needle being dragged across record" that one gets in the movies, but it might as well have been. I'd been to plenty of these events. The looks were enough.

 Who is HE? And what is HE doing here? 

 Here's who he is. The guy that mows the lawn. The guy that figures out that the Check Engine light is on because the gas cap wasn't screwed back in. The guy that teaches his sons - and daughters - how throw a perfect spiral. The guy that obsesses over the perfect barbecue, the home team, and putting. The guy that shows his son that one mustn't be mean to girls. The guy that shows his daughter that they needn't take shit from boys. The guy that teaches both that "just because" is not now nor will ever be a viable excuse. The guy that sits down with his kids and explains supernovas, the Reconstruction, and long-form division. The guy that cooks and cleans. The guy that changes diapers. The guy that patrols the streets of some shithole country with an M4 at the ready. The guy that runs into burning buildings. The guy that writes those TPS reports. The guy that used to write those TPS reports but now, thanks to the latest round of layoffs, is pulling espressos at Starbucks. The guy that drove the car that picked you up at the airport. The guy that occupies the Oval Office. The guy that does this every day for 8, 10, 12, 14, 24 hours, and never really has to dig deep because the reasons for all of it are there in that picture in his wallet, or on his phone, or in his backpack, the one he shows to his fellows, beaming and professing his luck when he does so. 

 Who is he? 

 He's the silent majority. 

 What is he doing here? 

 He's breaking the silence.