The Challenge and the campaign

Well, I’m back in communion with my own computer, in my own office, so regular posts will once again be available to a public ravenous for these fascinating ruminations. This morning, excavating pyramids of detritus both temporal and digital, I found this piece, which I’d meant to post long ago, but tucked aside and forgot.


With the exception of a few years here and a few years there, I’ve lived in this town for over five decades, but I sometimes feel like a stranger in a strange land. The receipt of my Big Envelope in November came at the end of a week during which I’d been attending to the odds-and-ends aftermath of an unusual, urgent, rushed small town political campaign that I ran from late October to Election Day on November 6. Without going into detail, I’ll say that a friend suggested that my slogan should be, “Strong Convictions, but no Indictments.” I am long retired from what could be called local politics, hadn’t really been paying attention, and it was too late to get on the ballot. So I had to run as an independent write-in candidate, a drawback that I hoped I’d be able to overcome, but despite great support from a number of people and the kind of rabble-rousing pictured above, couldn’t quite manage in the two weeks available. I got 1,000 of 2,300 votes. And so a person who was forced to resign his state office in disgrace continues to hold a position of honor in our town.

It would be profoundly untrue to say that I’m glad I lost my election. It was, to me and those who supported me, one of those extremely rare black-or-white, we-know-we’re-right situations. But if I’d won, I would have had to decline my place on the Challenge, since my presence would have been required here for our annual Town Meeting on the third Monday of May.

So in my disappointment, it was soothing balm indeed to be able to receive the good news from Scotland with utter delight and no reservations. I’m now looking forward to spending Monday, May 19, walking from Lochcallater Lodge to Clova over Jock’s Road.

Now the urgent question is what to do with all these lawn signs….


(Six or seven weeks on, I can tell you that I took most of them to the transfer station for recycling and proper disposal, saved one for sentiment, and two are slated for use as spill and splash protectors under paint cans.)