Late last year, a series of events--September 11, the US bombing of Afghanistan, the anthrax attacks, and the subsequent militarization of our society left me feeling depressed and intimidated. I needed to do something personally empowering--something that would show my disagreement with and contempt for the path the Bush administration had taken in response to September 11.

Like a few others here in Seattle, I took to the streets to protest. I also wrote articles against the bombing of Afghanistan and criticized the indefinite detention of Muslims and Arab-Americans. These things helped, but I still felt a heavy weight of fear. I realized that there was one form of political speech denied to me by the events themselves--particularly the anthrax mailings and subsequent FBI crackdowns--one freedom that I was afraid to exercise. And so, of course, I had to exercise it anyway. I sent a package to the President.

I sent several, actually--12 in all. Each one contained a plastic ziploc bag, a whole wheat pita bread (inside the bag), and a hand-written letter to his Highness George II. The fear that two FBI agents would come to my door was dispelled by my decision to type up the letters on my computer and e-mail them out to a list of friends and contacts, along with a clear explanation of why I was doing it. The more people who heard and knew about it, the better. Maybe they would mail the President some pitas, too. Surely that many pitas would get somebody's attention. And who knew, perhaps Bush II might have a conscience, after all.

But mostly I sent them out for myself and my friends. It was Christmas time, it had been a hellish year, and a few succinct, heartfelt letters would make me feel good and maybe cheer up my friends.

Here's the first letter I sent:

Dear President Bush: I am sending you this pita bread because I have too many. I was hoping you could forward it to a hungry refugee in Afghanistan. Please do not air-drop this, as air-dropped food sometimes lands in minefields. And I read the other day that a US aid pallet dropped on a house in Afghanistan and killed a woman and her baby. I'd feel really bad if this pita killed somebody by falling on their head, or something.

Maria Tomchick

I kept it short and simple, so George Jr. could understand the letter when it was read to him by an intern. He wouldn't have to call John Ashcroft to have it explained to him. Each successive letter was similar, explaining why I was sending a pita bread and asking for something very specific in return. But the letters weren't all about Afghanistan. Here's a couple more:

Dear President Bush:

I am sending you this pita bread because I'm sure the 1,000+ Arab Americans in FBI custody don't get to eat much pita bread in prison. I can't seem to find the address for any of them to send them pita bread directly. I'm sure you could find out where they're being held and let everyone know where to send the pita.

Dear President Bush:

Why bomb other countries when you could send them pita bread instead? Please consider lifting the sanctions against Iraq, Iran, Cuba, North Korea, Sudan, and Libya. Well-fed people are not a threat to us.

I sent 12 letters in all--one for each day leading up to Christmas (sort of a 12 Days of Pita). Here's my favorite, the last letter I sent:

Dear President Bush:

Please change your mind and support the International Criminal Court. Peace on earth can't exist without justice, too.

I didn't really think President Bush would respond. I did, however, expect him to respond. There's a difference sometimes between what you think a person will do and what you expect them, morally, to do. I expected him to send a form letter, a token that he had received the packages. What I really thought, however, was that I would be lucky not to have my phone tapped.

I waited. I waited. I waited some more.

Enron collapsed, Israel shot up the whole West Bank, the Worldcom scandal broke, and President Bush went on a golfing vacation. Still no letter. I lost hope.

And then, just before July 4, I received a 9 x 12 manila envelope from the White House. Inside was a piece of cardboard (to keep the envelope from being folded) and a single-page letter dated June 28, 2002. It read:

Dear Ms. Tomchick:

George W. Bush

I tested the signature by licking my forefinger and swiping it over the writing. Hhmm. No smear. I got out a pencil and ran the eraser over it. It erased like a photocopy.

I am sending a letter in return. Here it is:

Dear President Bush:

--Maria Tomchick