Drive down Main Street these days and it’s as if someone threw up politicians. As a card carrying member (by marriage) of these folks running for office, I think it’s my civic duty to share the lessons I’ve learned …thus far.
1. The soil in these parts is rock covered with more rock…and then some.
I can’t tell you how many afternoons I’ve struggled pushing metal posts into our so called soil. I’ve now developed a system for getting them in, which basically consists of coming in at an angle, holding my mouth just right, and praising the Lord Jesus when the stake goes in on the first try.
If it doesn’t go in on the first attempt, then I’ve developed a system for that as well. It consists of multiple jabs of the stake into the rock bed, followed by countless foot stomps, after which I invoke the candidates name in vain followed by another choice word or two, and like magic the stake will finally sink into the ground…on one side.
But it’s in!
2. Once a sign is in, so help the person who pulls it out!
Once you’ve placed a sign, it’s much like giving birth. That’s your baby and you always know exactly where he/she/it is. Until someone steals your baby. Then much like if a real baby were taken, you lose your mind. That’s when you and your best friend go into stealth mode and photos of the culprits stealing your decoy baby are finally obtained. Granted, if a real baby were taken, putting out a decoy baby may seem a bit much, but I guess it all depends on how much you love your baby.
I love mine a lot, especially the ones I put up in the pouring rain thinking the ground wouldn’t be as hard. (FYI…rain does not soften rock)
3. Tattooing your name across my forehead is where I draw the line…I think.
Buttons, t-shirts, caps and even baby onesies, the people making out like bandits right now are the novelty stores. The only time I’m allowed to not be a walking billboard is when I’m at work and even then, as I leave the house my youngest will call out, “put on your button.” The button is now the bain of my existence. And the two tiny holes…in every single piece of clothing I own are the mark of all who are now part of this club.
4. Carbs are the name of the game.
From fish fries to bean dinners to cake walks, apparently none of the organizations hosting political events have ever considered putting out a salad bar. And for that – I say THANK YOU – because this girl likes her cake, especially when allowed to eat it too! Running for office is basically carb heaven. I haven’t seen a leafy green vegetable in months and that’s reason enough for me to vote!
5. It’s a good thing kids can’t vote.
If you don’t have kids or at least someone else’s kids you can borrow – well you might as well hang it up. Kids can put together signs, unload cars, hand out fans, wear your shirt and can even man the booth, while you grab a snack.
Why? Because this is your Dad and we love him. It’s our civic duty to be part of the process. It’s summer and you have nothing else to do.
How ‘bout, because I said so!
Democracy, you see, doesn’t start until they’re 18 and can vote against you.