Political Science for Breakfast

The walk with the dog earlier this week was a trek through thick haze of summer humidity, a condition we’ve had for a couple of weeks now. Jungle like, the path through hip- high ferns supports lush undergrowth and everything is wet with the sweat of so much moisture in the air. My husband had pretty much decided it would be “out to breakfast” after we reached the summit, and it was to the local diner we trooped, not feeling much like driving and needing to fire up the virtual office fairly soon anyway.

This diner is a regional landmark; the locals frequent it often, others give directions based on its location. The food’s not great, though the staff is friendly; all in all, it’s just an easy spot to visit (and the pie is great.) That morning, a normal cross section of folk were sprinkled in the booths and perched on stools when an attractive 4 person unit arrived, ordered coffee, had clipboards and cell phones at the ready,  sporting white, long sleeve shirts with the sleeves rolled up and looking ready to go.

The man with the tie began to shake hands, introduce himself and work the room. He’s only mildly in the business of converting people: not to religion, but rather in the voting booth: he’s running for Congress in 2014, and this was his first day on the Campaign Trail. The three women he first met seemed to take him in stride, and the loud voiced gentleman behind me had plenty of free advice: “How women of great moral character can be Democrats I don’t know.”  (Egad.)

While consuming my blueberry pancake, I wondered what we’d say when he got to our table, me being part of his Same Party and my husband, who teaches American Politics for a living from his neutral corner as a non-citizen.

It simply turns out this ex-Marine wants to make a difference. He wants Washington to sit up and get something done. I figure he deserves a shot, and I toast his effort to serve and walk what will be probably be an uphill climb. Now,  three days out, I find myself thinking more about him, since today I hit the floor in a dead, dehydrated faint, recovered, got the ‘all clear’ on that surprise gum graft, and have wended my way to my physical office. Will his journey of a year feel anything like this morning?

I wish him well:  Excelsior!


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