Disclaimer: Shondaland/ABC owns these characters. And the less said about that the better.
NO-Mellie and NO-Joke: Public Service Announcement for any accidental non-Olitz readers
Before the dinner…
"Dad's avoiding me." Jerry stomped into the West Sitting Room and collapsed on a sofa.
From the comfort of an adjacent armchair, Rowan spared a glance from the book on his lap, and said evenly, "So you're going to throw the race at the first hurdle?"
Jerry angled his head to frown at Rowan. "No one's throwing a race! I'm saying we need a change of plans."
"We?" Rowan peered over his reading glasses at Jerry.
"Yeah, we. I read up on that Gandhi dude. He got the East Indians together to protest Britain's salt tax. He was all about changing the world, but he wasn't about changing it alone. That's saying you can't set me up to corner Dad, while you sit back and pretend this has nothing to do with you."
Rowan closed his book with a snap. "What exactly are you accusing me of, young man?"
"You need to the walk the talk, old man. Be the change you want to see in the world."
"Jerry, I can't get involved in some crazy scheme that's going to get you grounded."
"Mom's real Dad would stand up for the things he believes in."
"That joke is getting old and it was never funny."
"Not when you don't have half the guts Mom has."
"Jerry, I am a seasoned man of mature years. I will not rush into things like an impetuous juvenile."
"Yeah, I get it. You're old and scared and you want me to all the work. This is why nothing ever changes – impetuous juveniles don't have the power to change, and scared old men don't want to use the power they have to make change. Unless you're Gandhi… or Martin Luther King."
Jerry got to his feet and ambled towards the door. He had just reached for the door handle when Rowan called out, "Wait!"
Political Blogger…
"…The White House is bringing back the good times with a state dinner for the newly-elected Indian Prime Minister.
"The United States has seen more political turbulence in recent times than its South Asian ally, but sources say this will not stop President Grant from calling on the Prime Minister to join forces in curbing American counter-terrorism efforts in the region, as well as aligning India's policies with American strategies for trade, employment and weapon sales…"
"Ma'am, the Graphics and Calligraphy Office has sent over the extra invitations you wanted, but I wanted to check the address with you before I had them posted."
Olivia looked at the her Chief of Staff in confusion. "Where were you asked to send the invitations?"
"A post office box… for a soup kitchen in DC."
"I see," said Olivia.
"The Chief Calligrapher said the updated list was hand-delivered by your father, in a sealed envelope. Would you like to… see the list, ma'am?"
"Yes, I would and can you send a copy to Tom."
"Of course, ma'am."
An hour later, Tom walked into Olivia's East Wing office, shut the door and said calmly, "Ma'am, the 15 names that were added to the list are homeless veterans. They've been staying at the shelter where Jerry and Rowan have been helping out."
He paused, before adding, "Are you going to tell the President so he can ground Jerry?"
Olivia gave him a wry smile and shook her head. "No, because this time, I think it's my Dad that needs to be grounded. And he's not the type to stay in his room."
"What did have in mind, ma'am?"
Al Jazeera news post…
"…Homeless veterans from a DC shelter had a picnic lunch with the Grants at the White House today.
"The veterans welcomed the invitation after the shelter's lunch budget was slashed at the start of last year.
"The White House five-course meal was served by the First Couple and members of the cabinet, including newly sworn in Vice President Lucas Zeke and his partner.
"It is understood that the event was organised with the help of the President's eldest son, Fitzgerald IV and the First Lady's father, Professor Rowan Pope.
"Later President Grant met with representatives of the Veterans NOW Coalition to discuss growing concerns for the welfare of homeless Veterans across the country, who make up a fifth of all homeless Americans on any given night…"
"Dad's mad, that's why he waited until I was at school to have that lunch." Jerry kicked a stone on the path. He was walking the dogs with Rowan at his side.
"I didn't get an invitation either," Rowan sounded miffed.
Jerry grinned. "Mom knows you added those names to the guest list." Then at Rowan's continuing scowl, he added, "On the bright side, the guys had a great time."
"Don't rest on your laurels. Our work has only just begun."
"Who said that?"
Rowan cast a puzzled, irritable look at Jerry. "I did."
"Just checking it wasn't someone important like Gandhi."
"Listen, young man, we are living in an age of manufactured poverty. Treating the symptom isn't going to rid us of its cause!"
"Geez, have you taken your medication today, old man? Calm down, I've already thought of Plan B."
Olivia walked into Cyrus' office to find him, Tom and the White House executive chef peering into a laptop.
When she entered, Cyrus slammed the laptop shut and he sat there for a moment, not sure what to do with his hands before he finally placed them flat on the laptop and smiled at her. "Olivia. How nice to see you."
Olivia glanced from Cyrus to Tom and the executive chef, then back to Cyrus. "We had a meeting ten minutes ago with the Chief of Protocol about the State Dinner." Then looking at Cyrus more closely she said, "What's going on?"
There was an exchange of glances, then Cyrus sighed and opened the laptop, hit a few keys and turned to the screen towards her.
On the screen was security footage showing Jerry and her father entering the White House kitchen and inspecting the pantries, the storage cupboards, the cool room and another couple of doors.
"They're checking out the place," Olivia muttered.
"Yes, I believe it's called 'casing the joint'," Cyrus said dryly. "Or at least that's what Tom thinks they're doing. It's no secret that Jerry wants us to serve the iconic American burger a la Soup Kitchen to our esteemed guests. It looks like they are checking where the real food for the dinner is kept."
"Did they take anything?"
"Not exactly, ma'am," Tom inserted, "They replaced a bag of spuds with frozen fries. Guess they wanted to see if there'd be a reaction."
"I see."
The chef looked at Olivia. "Ma'am, if there's going to be a switcheroo I'm concerned about the okra and prawns – if they get taken, we won't be able to get a fresh supply in time." He paused when the door swept open and Fitz walked in.
"Tom, they told me I'd find you—"
He paused, his gaze coming to rest on Olivia. A moment later, he was at her side, sliding an arm around her waist. "What's going on here?"
"Professor Pope and Jerry are getting ready to steal food from the kitchen," said Cyrus.
"Not steal exactly, sir," Tom said.
"More like replace," the chef hastened to add.
"They want to make sure we serve burgers," added Olivia.
"Unless we can catch them in the act," said Tom. "Scare the crap out of them."
Fitz and the others stared at Tom. "That's evil," Fitz grinned. "I like it."
Olivia stifled a yawn. She was seated on a bag of rice, leaning against Fitz who was seated next to her.
Even in the silence, she could feel the weight of his censure – he didn't want her to be there. He wanted her safe and warm in bed, or at least safe and warm and not in the dark pantry of the White House kitchen where the dry goods were stored.
On the heels of that thought, her jaw cracked on a second yawn. She heard Fitz give a soft laughing groan, a second before his arm tightened around her.
"Stubborn," he whispered, his lips seeking and finding the corner of her mouth in the pitch dark.
If they had been alone, she would have sneaked a kiss of her own, but with Tom and a couple of agents sharing the space, she settled for stroking her fingers over his arm.
A second later, Tom cleared his throat, and said softly, "They're on their way."
They waited in silence. A while later, they heard a door creak open and a voice that sounded very much like Oscar's say, "The weird vibe is stronger in here."
"Yeah," said a voice that Olivia knew was Huck's. "Didn't you say there was a night light on in the kitchen?"
"There's probably a circuit break," Rowan said.
"Still doesn't feel right. We should abort," muttered Oscar.
"If you do, Dad wins," Jerry protested. "Look, I'm going in." The beam of light entered the kitchen, and hit Olivia straight in her face.
Even with the warning, the beam of light in their faces was startling.
"Agh!" she gasped.
"Aarrck!"
The flashlight dropped and there were sounds of stumbling as bodies went down, then the lights came on and Olivia sprang forward to see Jerry lying prone on a heap that included Rowan, Huck and Cyrus.
"Huck!" Olivia protested.
Fitz frowned at Oscar. "Is Zeke in on this too?"
Huck and Oscar untangled themselves and helped up the other two before Oscar said calmly, "Good evening, Mr President. How are we this evening?"
"Cut the crap, Oscar, and answer the question!"
"Put like that, I'd like to assure you that I kept Zeke right out of all this. I got involved because my buddy Huck needed help. No one else is involved except for the people in this room."
Tom reported mildly, "We've got Oscar's crew, sir. They're in the underground tunnels, using the network to bring food from the basement of the Eisenhower Building to the White House kitchen."
"You have to let those guys go." Huck stepped forward. "I got them involved when I heard Jerry needed help."
"You compromised White House security to sabotage the State Dinner? That's a Federal crime and you know it!"
Huck scowled at Fitz. "What I know is that I was homeless when I met Olivia. If Liv hadn't fed me, cleaned me up and given me a job, you and I wouldn't be having this conversation. I'd be buried in a potter's field."
In the ensuing silence, Rowan cleared his throat. "The purpose of this exercise wasn't to sabotage a dinner or breach security. It was to bring our protest home, make it visible on gold-edged White House china; to contrast the haves with the have-nots on a single plate."
Olivia stared at her father. "Dad, I can't believe you would agree to all this – you're always telling me to act within the law!"
"Olivia, laws are made by men and they can be changed by men, or women, if they are so inclined."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Fitz frowned, as the others watched with the fascination of spectators at a tennis match.
"Fitzgerald, you broke White House tradition when you got a divorce and married Olivia. And again, when you declared yourself an independent while still in office. But that is the extent of your boldness. You stop at self-serving changes, you don't have the will to make life changes for the masses. You know why? Because that would mean changing the status quo that keeps you in power as a privileged white man. "
"Dad!"
"Professor Pope!"
Olivia and Fitz looked at each other, then Fitz said softly, "Let me."
"No, let me!" snapped Rowan. "In the past few weeks, I have seen my brilliant daughter relegated to the role of party planner. Olivia is a brilliant lawyer but she has resigned herself to a life of mediocrity. She deserves better than to check table settings and flower arrangements! She deserves to shine in her own right, without staying in the shadows as your personal fixer! When all she is doing is fixing your messes so you have a chance at a second term! A second term to maintain your privileged status!"
"Dad, enough already!" Olivia cried, placing a hand on her stomach.
Suddenly every eye in the place snapped to her gesture, and as Fitz put a protective arm around her, Rowan took a step forward, only to be held back by Tom. Seeing this, Olivia said in a milder tone. "It's late. Jerry, you have school tomorrow and it's past your bedtime."
"But, Mom, I haven't had a chance to say anything."
"Consider that a good thing," Fitz glared at his son. "You should plead the Fifth and go to bed. We'll talk about what you've done tomorrow."
As Tom shepherded everyone out, and with a nod from Fitz the other agents stepped out to wait in the corridor. Once they were the only ones left, Fitz turned to face Olivia, lifting his hands to cup her face, studying her intently.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"But you felt something? Do you want me to call the doctor?"
"I'm fine, Fitz," Olivia reassured, smiling with a brightness she didn't feel. Then her smile vanished when he added softly,
"Am I holding you back, Livvie?"
"No," she stressed, lifting her hands to his. "I'm exactly where I want to be."
He drew her gently into his arms, resting his cheek on top of her head. "Do you remember the day I told you I wanted to be an ordinary man, so I could get a divorce to marry the woman I love."
"Yes," Olivia mumbled into his chest.
"I haven't changed, Livvie, I'd toss all this away in a heartbeat to be with you, if you wanted to return to running Pope and Associates."
Olivia drew back to look at him, tightening her arms around him. "You want someone else to deal with Jerry and my Dad?"
Fitz stared at her for a long moment, then slow smile touched his lips. "Yeah."
The next morning, Rowan padded downstairs after a restless night convinced everyone else was asleep; only to see Jerry on the landing, dressed in jeans, a hooded jacket and sneakers.
"Casual Day at school?"
"I'm not going to school. I've got word out to the guys on the street and we're going to have a sit-in front of the White House."
"Those protesters will be arrested."
"That's the plan. Criminals get a warm bed and three meals a day. It's time the homeless got the same deal. You coming?" Then seeing Rowan hesitate, Jerry smirked. "Yeah, I thought not. This was never about the homeless with you, was it? This was about punishing Dad for marrying Mom."
Rowan gave Jerry a level look. "There are things you are far too young to understand. I want great things for Olivia, and I don't see her achieving that in the role of wife and mother to a white man and his children."
"Wow, that sounds racist."
"Only a white boy would think so."
"Yeah, well this white boy is glad that Mom's part of this family. I would say more about that but I've gotta run, I'm meeting the guys at President's Park. I'll tell them not to count on you in future because you prefer to be an armchair warrior, blaming Dad for everything and hating Mom for marrying him."
Jerry brushed past Rowan and took a couple of steps, before Rowan snapped, "Wait!"
Wire services online …
"…The President's son, Fitzgerald Grant IV, made headlines around the world today, when he skipped school to lead thousands of homeless protestors for a sit-in on Pennsylvania Avenue. Joining him in the protest was Professor Rowan Pope, the First Lady's father.
"Sources say the two have been actively campaigning against the cost of the upcoming State Dinner for the Indian Prime Minister. First son Jerry took to social media to call the half million spend a 'wicked waste of money', in light of funding cuts to homeless welfare programmes.
"DC Police did not make any arrests as the city didn't have enough holding cells for the protesters, although some did volunteer for lock-up, saying they were looking forward to a place to sleep for the night.
"President Fitzgerald Grant and First Lady Olivia Pope-Grant later spoke with the protestors, guided by Jerry and Professor Pope. The Grants heard about the realities of living on the street, including new urban designs incorporating spikes in concrete to turn the indigent from sheltered walkways, buildings and bridges.
"That's all we had – a piece of concrete and they've taken that away from us; from my kids," said a mother of three, homeless after a work injury left her unable to pay rent.
"President Grant said the work done by his son and Professor Pope had brought home to him the urgent need for action.
"Special interest groups and concerned citizens who joined the protest were overwhelmingly positive about the family input.
"A shelter manager said the President's family had brought the issue to the forefront of the news cycle in a matter weeks, when campaigners had been trying to get remedial action for decades.
"The protesters eventually dispersed, after emergency accommodation was found for the protestors in Washington DC, Maryland and neighbouring states.
"President Grant is expected to announce his plans for a permanent solution next week, before he flies to South East Asia …"
Back in his room, Jerry sat on the bed facing his father. "Am I grounded?"
"No," Fitz came and sat next to his son.
"Are you sending me to Andover?"
"No." Fitz held up his hand when Jerry wanted to speak again. "Hold up, let me go first - what were you trying to achieve out there?"
"I told you, Dad. I want you to take action to help those guys."
"By getting me to feed the Indian Prime Minister burgers?"
Jerry looked at his hands. "We waste a lot of food."
"In the White House?"
"In the United States. We throw away almost half the food we have."
"Jer, that's-"
"We waste enough food to fill a 90,000-seat stadium and it costs about $165 billion a year. That's crazy. People are starving and we're wasting billions of dollars' worth of food."
Fitz gave a wry smile. "Jerry, I still don't get the connection with the state dinner."
"Wouldn't you feel better if the rich guys you invited for the State Dinner left a $2 burger uneaten on their plate, than prawns and okra?"
"...So you did all this because you want my guests to waste a less expensive meal?"
"Yeah. Maybe..."
"Jer-"
"Dad, look, I wasn't thinking about your guests, okay? I just wanted to give the guys at the shelter a meal they'd never had."
There was a long silence, then Fitz sighed. "Jer, your intentions were good-"
"So you'll serve burgers…"
"No, Jerry, I will not."
"Dad!"
"Jerry, listen. You need to stop and think about the bigger picture. Imagine if you invited Peter's parents from Malaysia to the White House and I served Mac and Cheese out of a packet, how do you think they'd feel? How do you think Peter would feel?"
Jerry was silent, then he said evasively, "I don't know."
"Yeah, you do know, Jerry. When Pete's Dad took you and Rowan out for a meal in China, did he take you to a street vendor? Or a fancy restaurant?"
"…Fancy restaurant," Jerry mumbled sullenly.
"That's the point I'm trying to get through to you, Jer. If all I could afford to give a guy to eat was a burger, that's okay but I'm representing one of the richest countries in the world. We need to be as hospitable to our guests as our guests are to us when we visit them, that is part of diplomacy, Jer."
"To rub our wealth in their faces?"
Fitz released a long sigh. Then he sat forward. "Jerry, do you know who'll look bad if we serve burgers and fries at the State Dinner. It won't be me, it'll be Mom."
"Mom?"
"Yeah, she's the one organising the event. If I nix her plans and go with yours; she'll be the one who gets the blame. Since this is her first State Dinner, you know what the media will say – they'll blow it all out of proportion, make Liv look stupid and incite the Indians to attack her too."
As Jerry stared owlishly, Fitz added, "You remember how devastated Mom was, the last time the media attacked her; she didn't want to get out of bed. Is that what you want, Jer? When Mom is pregnant? You know—"
"Jeez, Dad, stop! I get it. I don't want to get Mom in trouble any more than you do."
"Good." Fitz gave Jerry a narrow-eyed look. "Because if you go back on your word, and make this a disaster for Olivia, I will send you back to Andover and you'll stay there until you graduate."
"Thanks, Dad."
Fitz raised a brow, and Jerry said solemnly, "Relax, I promise I won't do anything to make the bigots attack Mom again."
Fitz stared at Jerry, then grabbed him up in a hug. "There are days when I don't know whether to hug you or strangle you."
"Dad, you're doing both! Leggo!"
Fitz grinned, releasing Jerry. Then he added softly, "I won't break my promise to find a place for your friends to stay."
"They are not the only ones who need help."
"I know, Jer. But let's start with the ones in DC, okay?"
Upstairs in the Music Room, Olivia glared at her father. "Why are you so intent on ruining Fitz?"
"Olivia, that accusation is unjust."
"You are a Law Professor who deliberately broke HR 347 legislation while being a resident of the White House."
"That law is an abuse of our right to free speech."
"So which is it Dad: free speech, the rights of the homeless or me wasting my privileges as a black woman in the White House; what exactly are you trying to achieve?"
"Olivia, I have been an armchair warrior my entire adult life; a man who voices his dissent within acceptable boundaries. I've written scholarly articles read by a handful of people who may or may not be influenced by my learned opinions. I have encouraged independent thinking in young, rebellious minds about moral obligations, judicial oversight and other ethical considerations that get side-lined by a big fat pay cheque, an offer of partnership or a weekend cruise on a VIP yacht. There are things I do not like about this life and what it has offered me or my daughter. Am I willing to wait and see if the world will change enough to be give my grandchild what he or she deserves?"
"But a sit-in, Dad?"
"It felt like we were doing something, and it got Fitzgerald's attention."
"There are other ways to get his attention. I can't encourage civil disobedience from my own father against my husband."
"Fitzgerald is a big boy. He should be able to handle it."
"Dad, you need to stop. If you don't, I promise that you will not see your grandchild until he or she reaches the age of legal consent."
There was a silence. "You would spite your own flesh and blood to save your husband's reputation?"
"Yes, Dad, because I don't want my child believing they are nothing if they don't work twice as hard to be considered half as good. I want my child to know the love and affection of a father who will accept them for whoever they turn out to be, even if it is less than the best."
"A president's child can afford that luxury, Olivia."
"Then I have to make sure Fitz is still President when I have this child, Dad." Olivia waited. "Do I have your word that you will stop agitating?"
"And if I don't you will cut me off?"
"Yes."
"Stated in those unequivocal terms, how I can do anything but comply."
Olivia angled a look at her father, who gave her a wry smile. "Although, it might be a suggestion if you could let Fitz entertain the idea of having a family forum where we can approach Fitzgerald the President with our concerns and get a hearing, instead of constantly being sidelined by Fitzgerald the man."
"I can work with that suggestion."
When Olivia walked into their private sitting room, Fitz was seated on the backrest of the sofa, staring at his crossed feet.
When she walked, he straightened immediately, coming forward to take her in his arms.
"How did it go with Rowan"
"I threatened to cut him off from seeing our child."
"Livvie..." Fitz wrapped his arms more closely around her, then chuckled when she admitted,
"I was kinda looking forward to sending him away." Then she drew back and said, "How did it go with Jerry?"
"I threatened to send him to Andover until he graduates."
Olivia wrinkled her nose at him. "Fitz, that won't work. He knows you don't mean it."
Fitz smiled at her ruefully. "No, it didn't work. But the thought of making you look bad, did. He adores you, Livvie. You're my secret weapon."
"He's protective of the people he loves: me, Karen…"
"Not me."
"You're a big boy."
Fitz chuckled. "You think I'm a big boy?"
"Dad called you a big boy."
"Doesn't sound sexy when you put it like that. Maybe that's a good thing." He said, taking her hand and leading her to the bedroom. He shut the door and walked her over to stand next to the bed. Then he began unzipping her dress.
At her coy look, he smiled. "You're going to have a nap."
"Is that a request or an order?"
He kissed her nose. "It's a you-pulled-an-all-nighter and I want you to rest, my darling."
"You say the nicest things to cover up an order," she mumbled as his smiling mouth met her lips.
He finished unzipping her dress and slipped his hands inside the opening to draw her close for a torrid kiss, but pulled back in the middle of the second kiss to say huskily, "We're not doing this. You need a nap."
Olivia nodded. Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she slowly slid the edges of her dress off her shoulders and down her arms, revealing her naked breasts.
Hearing his soft groan, she let the dress fall at her feet, followed by her underpants. Then she stepped forward, lifting her hands to Fitz's face and stroking his burning ears with her fingers.
He watched her like a man drowning, which made her smile as she stood on tip toe to kiss his mouth gently, before turning away and bending low to pull back the quilt covers.
Once she was in bed, she smiled at Fitz. "Can you close the curtains on your way out, Fitz?"
He looked at the curtains, then back at Olivia sitting there, half naked in bed. Then with a soft growl, he pounced as she shrieked a laugh and scrambled away, although Fitz made sure to land on the bed and not on her.
Olivia was still giggling when he dragged her into his arms and gave her a hot, passionate kiss. "Naughty girl." He growled kissing her again while her hands went to work on his tie and shirt.
"Say that again, big boy."
He laughed, falling back against the pillows to give her room to work on his pants. "You know you're keeping me from doing some very important Presidential things."
"You want this to be a quickie?" Olivia asked, disappointed.
He laughed again, sitting up and pulling her onto his lap. "Livvie, I love and adore you, but you're not going to keep me from reading Zeke, Oscar and Huck the riot act."
"They were only helping Jerry and Dad."
"Livvie, I can't have vigilantes running loose in the White House."
Olivia slid her arms around his shoulders to comb her fingers through his curls. "I know."
"But…"
"But, I don't want you to be too hard on them. Huck was in a bad way when I found him. It's not easy living on the streets."
Fitz sighed, smoothing his hands up along her back. "I've been thinking about what Jerry said about empty rooms in this place. The Federal Government owns over 77,000 vacant buildings all over the country that we spend billions to maintain. I've spoken to the Office of Management and Budget and we agree that the buildings could be renovated to house the homeless."
He paused, smiling at Olivia. "Would you like to be in charge of that project? You can get the delinquents and vigilantes to help. And…" He rubbed noses with her. "It'll give you something to fix that meets your father's high standards."
Olivia drew back to stare at him with a soft look in her eyes.
"What?" he said huskily.
Without a word, she cupped his face and kissed him.
A/N: Some of you already sussed where I was going with this, regarding Jerry inviting some unexpected guests to the State Dinner. That was my original intention, then I remembered that I'd put Tom in charge to improve White House security.
So while I generally ignore reality and Scandal the show, I thought it would be bad to ignore my own plots (unless I have genuinely forgotten them, which I do on occasion!).
Actually, yes, I did want to write the Grants as a normal family in the White House – which is what I find fascinating: how ordinary people cope in extraordinary situations. Also I'm sick of reading/watching/revering sociopaths and psychopaths or of Hollywood trying make their sick shit acceptable to the rest of us.(Oh my goodness, is that a soapbox, I see? Why, yes, let me make a stack of three!)
And I did forget to attribute the Gandhi quote! You remembered when I totally forgot! Thank you! I have included it in this chapter
You know what, Jerry and Rowan are becoming my favourite duo too, and I can think of a hundred things for them to do, but I have to remember the others haven't fallen off the edge of a flat earth!
As always, you all reading this are the best. I do appreciate the attention you pay to this story ;) and the feedback you give. And I'm glad you see improvements in my smut-writing skills (still a D-minus, not an A-plus) here I have to mention that KikiNickMc helped with that – when we collaborated on a few chapters of her lovely story On Stage.
So again, any of you thinking of writing fanfic – go for it. The Scandal fandom is wonderfully supportive and it's a great place to start or re-start your writing ambitions.
Now for my references and points to note:
Note: I have absolutely no idea if there is an underground tunnel network from the Eisenhower Building where the 'ceremonial office' of the vice president is located.
Also have no idea where and how the White House kitchen stores its dry goods.
Now for the other sources I have misappropriated:
Gandhi quote: FALSER WORDS WERE NEVER SPOKEN (X)
Homeless References:
GOVERNMENT'S EMPTY BUILDINGS ARE COSTING TAXPAYERS BILLIONS (X)
HOW THE U.S. MANAGES TO WASTE $165 BILLION IN FOOD EACH YEAR (X)
HOMELESS VETERANS (X)
IN JUST 100 DAYS, DC FINDS HOMES FOR MORE THAN 200 HOMELESS VETERANS (X)
VETERANS NOW COALITION ON TRACK TO HOUSE OVER 400 HOMELESS VETERANS IN D.C. BY MARCH 31 (X)
600 CHILDREN LIVING IN WASHINGTON, DC HOMELESS SHELTER (X)
.
White House related
PRESIDENT AND THE EXECUTIVE OFFICE (X)
FIRST LADIES LIBRARY BLOG (X)
NFIA PRESS RELEASE FOR STATE DINNER AT WHITE HOUSE (X)STATE DINNER (X)
WHITE HOUSE FACTS › THE WHITE HOUSE STATE DINNER (X)
THE WHITE HOUSE'S DINNER THEATER (X)
WHITE HOUSE CHINA (X)