Shaking Hands and Kissing Babies

It’s that time of year again,election time. Don’t worry, this isn’t a post to try and sway your vote or get you to finally see that Democrats do it better… Sorry, I had to throw in one tiny piece of fun. Personally, I want the first Tuesday in November to hurry up and get here because I’m sick and tired of ALL the ads and campaign nonsense.

As I was trying to watch the debate a few nights ago I thought about how elections and campaigns were run when I was a little girl. This might seem odd since most kids have no interest in politics but I was an odd kid. My dad was always very involved in politics, never as a candidate, but as an avid supporter and “person on the ground” campaigner. And since I was usually my dad’s shadow, I got my first taste of handing out cards and knocking on doors at an early age. I remember being with my Aunt Mary (I’m sure my dad convinced his baby sister to come along on our adventures) and a dog chased us. I also remember our brown Volkswagen van. When dad took a sharp curve one of the bench seats would come loose and throw everyone off. This was obviously a safety hazard but I guess things were a bit more lax in the early 1980’s. Anyway, I survived and I felt like I was really “involved” in something important.

Skip ahead several years and I was working for former Governor Martha Layne Collins. She had been out of office for about fourteen years but I always wanted to blurt out, “The night you won and Grady Stumbo lost his bid for Governor, I cried along with Grady’s daughter because our dreams of a Governor’s Mansion slumber party were dashed.” She would have gotten a kick out of that statement.

My latest foray into the political world was two years ago when my father in law ran a successful campaign and became Mayor of Cynthiana. My sister in law, Emily, and I did quite a bit of work (she did most of it) and I felt extremely proud the night Steve was elected. (Funny side story: Lily has introduced her Pa as “The Mayor” the past two years at her school’s grandparent’s day. Hilarious.)

I miss the way campaigns used to be. Nobody is even cordial these days. I miss being a part of the state and local elections with my dad. I really miss homemade signs. My dad had quite a collection of these signs. They lined the walls of his office with sayings like “Vote York” in thick painted lines on an old board. I have never heard of anyone with the last name York in my neck of the woods but I think it’s kind of neat that part of his story has been preserved.

Maybe someday I’ll go public with my threat to “run for something.” If I do, I won’t win. That’s okay. I think I’ll start saving old pieces of wood and stocking up on spray paint. If you know anyone with a Volkswagen van for sale, call me.

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