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YESTERDAY AFTERNOON when my yard man suggested that we have supper early, due to a meeting at which he was due to appear, I said, "That suits me fine, because I have a political meeting this evening that I must attend."
"Oh?" he responded, "you are going to go ahead with that, then?"
"Well, of course," I said. "I was voted into office! I can't let my constituents down!"
The truth of the matter is, Dear Reader, (though I told you otherwise) I'm a politician now.
You see, I leaped too soon to a conclusion that I'd lost that election back in May. It wasn't but a day or so after the voting that I got a call, "You're the new committee person! You received a write-in vote."
"What?" I asked. "I am?! ONE vote does it?!"
It was the local committee chairperson of my particular party calling. "Yep," she said.

I laughed in disbelief. "But it was me! I voted for myself! And it was...well..." I just sort of let the words hang; I didn't have the heart to tell her it was just a joke! (Elected officials shouldn't behave that way, I decided; I should simply confess I knew nothing about local politics, and politely walk away from the job. And that's what I tried to do. I did! But she would have nothing of it!)
"There's going to be an introductory meeting..with a guest speaker. Please come!"
She gave me all the details. "We really need you!" She added.

So I hung up and had a little post-election victory party with the person who had voted for me. We had a glass of wine, half a dark chocolate bar and a very good belly laugh!
And when it came time for the meeting of which she spoke--I went to it.

That was months ago. Since then, the committee has been meeting monthly on Wednesday evenings at a local cafe. It was hoped I would attend.
I hoped that I would.
But circumstances always got in the way of me doing my duty.
Until yesterday evening.

I had had a little talk with the committee chairperson once again. "The election is coming up," she called to encourage me. Later she called to say, "The woman who runs the cafe forgot to keep it open for our committee to meet there this evening because we changed the week, so it's going to have to be at our house."

(The candidate for State Assembly person lives with her. State Assembly person is the other office for which I ran in the primaries. Back in May, when Marianne had called to tell me that I'd been elected committee person for my precinct of the township, I told her, "I also voted for myself as Assembly person. How'd that turn out?"
"Oh, my husband's running for that office," she informed me.
[I'm guessing he got more write-in votes!]).

So, anyway, I googled the address Marianne had given me and set out for the meeting this evening. The sun had set, and I had to crawl along the street, peering through the darkness for house numbers. When I saw a yard full of political signs, I stopped looking, parked the car on the street, and headed for the door.

Marianne met me there and ushered me into the tiny living room, where one other member of the group was seated, as well as her husband. "Have a seat," she said, "wherever you want."

Her husband, candidate for Assembly person, instructed me from his chair, "First you've got to say hello to Lily!" He motioned to the dog at his feet. "She's a shelter dog, was mistreated before we got her..." and he went on to give me a brief history of the life of the dog, while I dutifully scratched Lily behind the ears and stroked her head. I'm not an animal-lover like some folks, but I'm reasonably fond of dogs, and I do know one duty of a politician!

As we waited for the five other committee members who eventually showed up, I studied the startlingly large full-length painting of a young man that dominated the living room wall I was facing. It had to be the son of these folks, the candidate and his wife, the committee chairperson. It was a very well-done likeness, at least as far as I could tell--unmistakably a DNA mixing that looked believable. When the painting was mentioned later on in the evening, this was verified. "When he moved into his college dorm room a few weeks ago," said the candidate, "he wanted to take it with him. But we said 'NO.' Just imagine," he laughed, "what could happen to it there!" Marianne chimed in, "I was afraid it might come back with a moustache!"

When everyone had arrived--Margaret, Kathy (uh-huh, another one), George, Paul, John, Ringo...er, uh...I mean, Don (Dear Reader, you don't know how I longed for his name to be Ringo), the meeting topic turned to the upcoming bus trip to DC for the big rally there (you know the one, don't you?) and plans for the campaign push to take place in the next few weeks. I sat rather quietly by and listened attentively, hoping to hear just exactly what might be expected of me. I'd just about figured it out that what I had done was elect myself as a volunteer to help elect all those candidates who were hoping for honest-to-goodness political jobs. And then Marianne handed me a training manual which included, on the final page, an official Job Description. I couldn't help but notice that "attend meetings" was listed first and foremost as a responsibility to both the larger political party of which I am a member, and to the voters in my precinct. Well, there are a few other things listed, as well...seeking out new voters, staying in touch with constituents in "any way possible" (this raised a few questions in my mind), and various other endeavors that would conceivably advance the party causes.

I'd finished skimming the material in the manual by the time the meeting progressed to actual hands-on activity. We commenced to fixing labels on mailings. These particular mailings were destined for nursing homes in the area, and promoted the candidates running for office. (At nursing homes, I discovered, we are prohibited from passing out literature door-to-door). There were twelve-hundred pieces to label, and we made quick work of the job by all of us pitching in. By the time Marianne's and the candidate's daughter called to get a ride home from her evening job, we had wrapped up the meeting. Everyone was given last-minute instructions and reminders regarding Election Day--in particular, the newest committee person. She it was who discovered that the polls are open from 7:00 a.m. until 8:00 p.m. on Election Day. Ideally, she is to be at her precinct polling site from beginning to end!

When she got home, she tossed her manual down on the table, threw back her head and rolled her eyes. She said to her yard man, "Why did you let this happen?! If you'd just done a little campaigning for yourself, I never would have won!"


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