What a Long Strange Trip It's Been

So…what’s new? Did you miss me? Ha! Kidding, of course. For the record, I have missed writing in this space, and it’s great to be back. Because the Wicked Local/Marblehead Reporter staff is so fantastic, the decision was made to suspend this column during my campaign for school committee. No candidate should have the advantage of weekly ink, so a break was best, and this paper is lucky to have editors and staff that have the integrity to know that. 

The totals are out now, and it’s clear that I did not win a seat, but it doesn’t matter, they have a full board now, and everyone on it will be awesome. What I learned running for office was worth every minute of the last six weeks. First off, I was not paying enough attention. I didn’t get into the race until the last day to file papers, and that’s on me. It may have been a late start, but hitting the ground running is a specialty of mine. Literally, every time I run, I eventually hit the ground. Wait, that’s not what that expression means is it? Anyway, when I ultimately decide to do something, I go full bore at it, much like Wile E. Coyote going over a cliff strapped to a rocket. My father, who was successful in all of his elections for school committee back in the day, always said, “Go big, or stay the hell home.”  OK, Dad, I did. And boy does that ground come up at you fast.

Now, I am educated; I earned a degree in English with a minor in Political science, but that was :::mumblemumble::: something years ago and none of those classes in constitutional law or political theory helped at all. Running for local office (and Tip O’Neill was right when he said all politics is local) is a process that while phenomenal, and a reminder that democracy lives, is one heck of a ride. Here’s what I learned.

1)    Tim Green at Ace Hardware is the helpful hardware man. If it were not for him, I would likely have put out an eye trying to load the heavy-duty stapler. I know I should all be all “Hear me roar” because capable women rock, but sorry, I grew up in the sixties, the only power tools I got to use were a hand mixer and a blender. Once I had it down though? I was a stapling champ with my signs and my posts.  Tory, another capable woman who, unlike me, can saw stuff in half and use a hammer without winding up the ER was there to help too, and it wouldn’t have happened without her.

2)    People are amazing. Sometimes. I had the great fortune to have good friends helping me, from running around in my car deploying signs, to coming to coffees and helping me organize events and social media. There were also a few who were not so amazing, but that’s what politics is. A whole bunch of people, all of whom have opinions. Clearly not everyone agreed with me on some issues, but that’s a good thing, in my opinion. If you want to have a real community where all are welcome in the process, you’re going to have those with whom you disagree. Talk to them anyway. And keep talking.

3)    Being on television, even a local access program, is gut-wrenching for someone like me with no fashion sense and no filter.  While there were only a few events that involved video, it was enough to send me into a writhing anxiety attack in front of my closet of boring mom clothes.  The League of Women Voters put on an amazing event to showcase the candidates, and my goal was to not get freaked out and let loose with my normal “colorful” vocabulary which is that of a well-educated sailor. Members of my family bet me I couldn’t do it. Ha, at least I won that round.

4)    Rain at 5pm on Election Day is a dream killer, especially when it comes with thunder and lightning. Many people vote after work, but in a downpour, not so much. And so it goes.

5)    Saying “I should” about something, but never actually doing it is for losers. So my campaign didn’t work out, so what? What did I lose? One thumbnail, a few bucks for signs and some votes. No biggy. I met people, I learned about a process from the inside out and I only fell down once, and thankfully I wasn’t carrying the stapler at the time. Don’t say, “I should” when “I will” is what is needed to make it happen. Good luck to all of our elected officials. They’re going to need it. In the meantime, what’s next?

Politics, Local and Otherwise.

This is a column I wrote in 2016, before I knew the results of the Presidential election. I'm not a fan of the President, but he's got the job, so, here we are. I am running for office, locally. Because I believe it's important to show up. My father taught me this, he was wise, he was kind and he was everything a father and man should be. I so wish he could see me now.

“Just because you do not take an interest in politics does not mean that politics won’t take an interest in you.”

— Pericles

By the time this is printed, we will have a new president. Whoever it is will have made history. It’s been quite something this time around. No matter where you stood on the issues or whose sign was on your lawn, this election probably caused some stress, anxiety and maybe even fights with friends and family. There were new lows in some of the campaigning and definitely some high points too. Everyone could likely agree on that even if no agreement could be reached on who was best for the job.

Early voting was a thing this year, and while a quick check of Google tells me it’s not really new and that some states like Texas and Oregon have had it for awhile, it still seems both new and old at the same time. I am used to voting in the gym at the Rec and Park building, but early voters went to Abbot Hall. It’s definitely hometown bias and pride, but is there any place more historic, more American and more suited to this crucial part of democracy than a building that houses a famous painting of the very beginnings of our republic? Still, I decided to hold out and vote on Election Day because growing up, even for small races, it was a very big deal. There was an energy to it that just doesn’t happen, for me at least, until the actual day.

My father entered politics early and often, having been elected to some imaginary office by his classmates on the school bus at the beginning of his freshman year of high school. From then on if there was an office to be held, chances were good that he would throw his hat in the ring. School committee was by far his favorite and where he spent most of his “political” career. Whenever town elections were held, I knew that a large part of the day would find him holding a sign on the sidewalk and the night would be spent waiting around town hall, the smell of paper ballots and cigarettes in the air. A chalkboard was the 1960s version of an electoral map, and a long table with a few telephones on it was the communications center. On this night only, I was allowed to stay up late and wait for the votes to be counted. Some years it took almost an hour in the little town of Nahant to count all the votes. That was politics back in the day, and as much as I love social media and advanced technology, there’s something to be said for going old school.

What hasn’t changed in politics, however, is the concept of being part of the process. Not everyone wants to run for office, and, certainly, not everyone should. That isn’t the only way to take part, however. Did you vote this week? For anyone who didn’t, it’s now time for you to sit down and keep quiet. Early voting went on for 11 days here in town with a total of 89 hours of availability. Then, on Nov. 8, polls were open from 7 a.m. to 8 p.m., offering another 13 hours. Absentee ballots were available for those who might have been out of town. There was plenty of time to get out and vote. Perhaps some people just chose not to vote. Honestly, it’s easier for me to comprehend the Periodic Table of Elements than it is to understand the choice not to vote, and that is saying something since I flunked high school chemistry.

My father gave me many things, from red hair and green eyes to a wicked attitude and a love of car rides to nowhere, but the most important of them has to be the belief that voting in elections, at every level, is vital to all of our lives. He believed in the process; he believed it was a citizen’s sacred duty to cast a ballot whenever one was offered. And he believed it started at home, in our own communities. For him, it was about standing up and showing up. Here’s to moving on, to another four years, to new laws and old battles and to the never-ending cycle of determining who we are and how we will run our towns, our states and our country.

What’s next?