A Quay in the Life

"All politics is local."
-- Tip O'Neill, Speaker of the House of Representatives

It's been a strange couple of weeks in rural, upstate New York. In one town, I helped run three campaigns; in a town in another county, I helped to run two. Although the record of candidates I've backed in elections in the past two years won five of five contests, this year's results were not so good (two wins and three loses). But we continue the Good Fight.

Early on the morning following one of my letters-to-the-editor being published in a small weekly, I had one of those annoying anonymous calls: "I hope you have life insurance, you big-mouthed asshole." Not having consumed any coffee, I was at a loss for a glib response. And the fellow hung up immediately anyhow.

I did a radio ad, focusing on a republican candidate's record with dumping toxic wastes in the town. I noted that if he wanted, I would be glad to debate him on the issue. After five days of play, he went to the radio station, and demanded the ad be dropped. The station manager offered to arrange a live, on-air debate, if the fellow wanted to "correct the record." He declined; the ad continued to play.

Last Sunday, a friend and I did some door-to-door dropping off of a campaign flier. Most people were interested in the flier. But not all: one fellow wanted to throw stuff at me; another wanted to push me; and a third had to struggle with the urge to punch me. As we left his driveway, he was yelling, "Fuck you! And fuck the environment, too!" Yikes! It's as if "road rage" has seeped into people's lawns and homes.