Free Finding It: And Finally Satisfying My Hunger for Life by Valerie Bertinelli Page B

asked.
    “It’s like you rejoined the world.”
    “You, too,” I said.
    In January, I was at my parents’ house and noticed several brochures for cruises on the coffee table. I picked one up as a distraction from the heated political debate we were having. My dad and I were like fire and gasoline when we talked politics. He was a BillO’Reilly—loving conservative who backed McCain-Palin for president and didn’t care that I was vacillating between Hillary and Obama because he thought both were the wrong choice.
    “I refuse to get involved,” my mom said. “I just know your dad and I feel everybody in California is way too liberal.”
    “That’s getting involved,” I said.
    “No, I’m not taking sides,” she said. “But we have to get this country back on track.”
    “We aren’t going to solve it here,” my dad said.
    “All I want to say is that Bush is probably better off on his ranch,” my mom added.
    “Amen,” I said.
    Although presidential politics turned us into a bunch of bickering talk radio rejects, we were in total agreement about the progress my mom was making on her diet. Since going on Jenny Craig, she had dropped 19 pounds. Added to the 16 she had already lost, she had shed a total of 35 pounds. She rode her stationary bike daily for an hour while watching a DVD player she perched on a nearby stool. She had gone down a couple of dress sizes. She joked about taking off another five pounds, which would bring her total to 40 pounds, like mine.
    “Maybe I’ll keep going,” she said, shaking her head confidently.
    “Me, too,” I said, with a wink.
    In all seriousness, I let her know that she looked great.
    “When you’re young, dieting is about looks,” she said. “At my age, it’s about making it to the next age.”
    “I’m with you, Mom,” I said. “It should always be about health and feeling good.”
    In February, mom’s weight loss caught the eye of a Jenny Craig executive and at the end of the month they put her in a commercialwith me. We shot the ad on a soundstage in front a fruit-and-vegetable stand designed to make it look like we were shopping. I explained that my mom and I, after losing weight, were now “a size energetic.”
    Then she tugged on my arm and said, “Come on, Val, keep up.” She was adorable.
    Afterward, we went out to dinner. Despite the dangers of talking politics, we ended up back on the subject of who we should elect as president. This time, I decided to take advantage of my parents’ new openness. I knew they had supported Kennedy in 1960 when we lived in Claymont, Delaware. I asked when they had switched from Democrats to Republicans.
    I was surprised to find out that my mom had done a lot more than support JFK. She had been the secretary of the Claymont Democratic Club. After Kennedy’s win over Richard Nixon, she attended a special celebration for volunteers at the White House, where the new president thanked each of them personally.
    “Did you meet him?” I asked.
    “He spoke to the group,” she said. “A few people might have met him individually. I didn’t.”
    “But you were right there with him,” I said.
    “He was very good-looking,” she smiled. “I wish that I would have tried harder to shake his hand.”
    As for Lyndon Johnson, my mom said she thought he was second rate (“not good enough,” she said) and then, after glancing at my dad, she laughingly said that Nixon was even worse. He agreed. They had voted for Bill Clinton the first time, something my dad admitted so grudgingly I found it funny.
    “But after Monica Lewinsky, no, we couldn’t continue to support him,” my mom said.
    I looked at my dad.
    “No comment,” he said.
    “Valerie, this may surprise you,” my mom said.
    “What?”
    “If Hillary wins the nomination, I may support her.”
    “You’re kidding!” I said.
    “I want to hear more,” my mom said. “I’m definitely intrigued.”
    “Are you kidding?” I asked.
    “Never say never,” she