I wrote last week about meeting Hillary Clinton in October, and speaking with her about autism (the cause closest to my heart). Yesterday I had a chance, thanks to friends who were hosting another Northern California Democratic fundraiser, to meet Barack Obama. My goal for this event was exactly the same as my goal for attending the Hillary Clinton event: to raise each candidates' awareness of autism; its potential causes and promising treatments. I had my requisite packet ready to give to Senator Obama -- the documentary I produced about children actually recovering from autism (Finding the Words); press about the film, and about the nonprofit we founded to help as many children as possible to get the help they need to get better.

All week long, since I registered for this Obama fundraiser, I have been receiving daily emails from various members of the Senator's camp. The Obama campaign's use of internet technology goes unrivaled as far as I can tell, and the creative energy behind it is impressive.

Getting to the fundraiser proved to be more difficult than I had expected. The street that lead to the event location was parked out with cars long before the luncheon started. White-coated valets were everywhere, motioning wildly to dozens of searching vehicles that passed. I parked many blocks away and waited for the crowded "ObamaTram" to drop me at the sprawling, two-story home where the crowds were heading. Once inside, the utter diversity of the attendees was the first thing I noticed. I saw the very old, newly-older, middle-aged, young -- even some children, all of every conceivable color combination, culture and country. Nearly equal numbers of males and females. One commonality seemed to be social class -- these were mostly wealthy people. Elegantly attired. Lots of big jewelry. Walking through the well-manicured gardens, I recognized a few legendary software engineers; several Valley CEOs; a couple of well-known venture capitalists; a handful of doctors. Everyone gathered around the expansive pool, snacking on shrimp hors d'oeuvres; or stood in clusters on the deep green lawn drinking champagne and admiring the rose garden. The setting filled up quickly, and we became a tightly-packed, well-behaved mob, all waiting with anticipation for Barack to appear.

A few moments later, precisely at 12:10 p.m., the hostess of the party stood up on her elevated brick patio, surrounded by a catering table barricade, and grabbed a microphone. "This event has been an incredible success," she said. "We oversold tickets, and at last count had made more than $700,000 for Barack Obama this afternoon." Not bad! The crowd of suits and colorful shawls cheered triumphantly. Then she introduced Barack as "the next President of the United States." More enthusiastic shouts and sustained applause.

Barack Obama emerged from the French doors of the Italianette mansion, book-ended by two very conspicuous Secret Service men. They both wore the same shiny reflecting glasses; the same suit, same blue shirt and red tie. (Neither smiled once during Barack's one hour visit with us.) A woman in front of me leaned toward the man next to her: 'Major protection today, huh? I wonder what's going on?' Senator Obama looked much like he does on television: tall, angular, energetic, sincere. His hair seemed more grey in person. He wore the same crisp white shirt he always wears, with a silvery tie and blue suit. His smile was broad and ubiquitous. Barack gave a 30-minute speech detailing the highlights of his plans for America. I have heard his plans before, and most of what he said today synched perfectly with his previous speeches about the economy, education,
health care, global warming. He was careful, however, to qualify his statements about Iraq and pulling out troops with a comment about the importance of being thoughtful and cautious about exactly how we do that. Responding to recent reports from General Petraeus, perhaps.

He is a remarkably comfortable speaker, and takes great pains to talk to the crowd instead of over them. As I listened, I realized that he made many references to the importance of our role as individuals in changing America's course. No sooner would he bring up one of his team's strategies, than he would follow it with a clever bounce of the ball back into our court (makes sense, given his favorite sport). As it should be, I thought. "We must be the change we want to see in the world," to borrow Gandhi's familiar credo. This key thematic statement was woven through and through Obama's speech. The crowd heard it clearly, and accepted this message of personal responsibility wholeheartedly. (Reminded me a little of a much more polished and honest version of the well-intentioned Human Potential Movement of the 80's.)

Then he was finished. Loud, long applause. He took a few questions, but he would not be moving from his carefully guarded, elevated patio stage. No visit with the crowd to shake hands. No photo ops. The Secret Service began to close in. Devoted supporters in the audience, sensing Senator Obama's imminent departure, started a "general-admission-concert push" toward the stage. That was my cue. With my packet clutched tightly against my jacket, I began to move forward gently but relentlessly in his direction, and made it to the second row, front and center. I held the packet above my head and got Barack's attention just before he started to move back inside the house:

"What are you going to do to help children with autism?" I shouted. He turned and looked at me. I extended my arm, packet in hand, over the heads of the row in front of me, toward the Senator's hands. "I produced this film about children recovering; children with validated diagnoses completely recovering and being re-tested at reputable institutions as non-autistic." One of the men with the mirrored glasses took my packet after Barack nodded to him.

"We are looking at it seriously." He said. No smile this time. But I did get a good chance to look right into his eyes, just for a moment. Then he was gone.

I immediately made my move to get out of that crushing crowd, across the verdant lawn, and back onto the ObamaTram. My very specific mission had been accomplished, I thought. I hoped. At least someone on his staff had the chance to see the documentary, to read the press, and to add this information to all of the other information they had been receiving about autism from so many other concerned sources all over the country. Maybe.

Now Senator Obama, as far as the autism epidemic is concerned, if you get your wish and make it to the Oval Office, the ball will be in your court.