By Gregory Moore
At first you had to think that this was really going to be a novel ideal.
Three guys, two of them friends; two of them “adversaries; are going to sit down at a table and pop some suds and talk about an important issue.
Just three guys doing what hundreds of thousands of Americans probably have done for the past two weeks since the July 16th of Dr. Henry Louis Gates, Jr. became public.
No big deal right?
The world wasn’t going to let this be something that is commonplace; the world media was destined to make this a Hollybrewed production.
What President Obama, Dr. Gates and Sgt. James Crowley will do is something that I did the other day and I didn’t have all the pop and circumstance of a press corp snapping pictures and being out on an East lawn.
The conversation I had about the whole Cambridge incident didn’t take place between three men; it took place with two women and a man.
We are all good friends but you know what it was?
It was one person drinking a Dos Equis, one person drinking a Miller Lite and having a whiskey shooter, and one person having a Pomegranete infused Vodka and Cranberry.
The conversation was lively.
The conversation touched on at least six different topics that were all inter-related to the main one of racial profiling.
And the conversation showed that people of different backgrounds can talk and have a civil conversation.
No talking heads saying that we should be drinking Sam Adams.
No prepared statements.
Just three people having a couple of drinks and talking about a serious matter.
That is something that I can guarantee will not happen today.
As noble as the gesture of President Obama playing host to Crowley and Gates and the three of them drinking a frothy brew, the elaborateness of the setting is taking away from the importance of the event.
This beer summit has become more about where they are going to sit and what they are going to drink rather than maybe the event being held in the White House kitchen; which is where I think it should be held.
Think about it for a minute.
The president orders hamburgers and fries, or barbecue or Long John Silvers and the three of them stand around a kitchen counter for ten minutes and talk, then one person grabs something to eat and sits down at the kitchen table. Then another gets up and grabs a couple of beers for the other two.
Pure, genuine dialogue at its best.
Something that is done countless times in this country between people of all types.
Except at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.
Instead of this showcasing just three guys coming to a consensus on some things, it has now become a full fledged production.
Lawyers, family members, union reps, and the media.
Oh and the three guys who are supposed to drink a beer together in their Sunday best.
What happened to the notion of just three guys who were going to sit down at a table, drink some suds and help resolve an issue?