Loved the ironing board. Hated the patronizing pander to women.
The most affecting part of Ann Romney’s convention speech was — no surprise here — the personal testimonial.
Her description of “this boy I met at a high school dance,” tall and nervous, polite to her folks but “really glad when my parents weren’t around.” Early married life in a basement apartment, eating tuna fish and pasta on a fold-down ironing board-turned-dining table.
The 22-year-old Ann, “probably like every other girl who finds herself in a new life far from family and friends, with a new baby and a new husband,” when “it dawned on me that I had absolutely no idea what I was getting into.” Those “long, long, rainy winter afternoons in a house with five boys screaming at once.”
Actually, I would have liked to hear more about Mitt. More granular specifics about his role in all this. Ann Romney touched on them, but in sketchy terms: “I’ve seen him spend countless hours helping others. I’ve seen him drop everything to help a friend in trouble, and been there when late-night calls of panic come from a member of our church whose child has been taken to the hospital.”