The campaign trail

Fule for Thought

 

I swore I wouldn’t bring politics into this column, but sometimes the “campaign trail” has events that should be shared! At first, let me tell you that I am not the type who finds it easy to go “door to door” dropping off election material. I always feel I’m intruding, but Debbie told me that it was a “must” to get out and meet people. I guess I worried that there might be people who would “release the hounds” on me, if I did land on their door step.

In actual fact, that’s not too far from the truth. I really only started to go to houses just before the election, because I was forced! Deb would drive me to a subdivision, park well ahead of me, and do her marking in our van, while I lumbered along. She even bribed me with offers of a Cold “Happy Hour” if I stuck with this! You’d think I couldn’t be “bought,” but she found a way!  

When I got to one of the houses, I rang the bell as usual, but was met with the thud of two big dogs hitting the glass front door, as they started to bark viciously. Now, I’m not sure exactly what happened, but it scared the crap out of me! I learned in a Psych class that there are two responses to a threat: “Flight or Fight.”

I went to choose the latter, but then realized the dogs had a barrier. Still frightened, I looked through the glass door to see the owner of the beasts scowl and wave me away! It really didn’t take much convincing, I quickly retreated, checking mentally on things: neighbours not watching … check … door still locked … check … bladder didn’t empty … check!

I must’ve been still a bit shaken as I hit the next house, because THIS time I didn’t ring any bells, or knock. I just stuck my info sheet between the doors and turned to leave. Now I know I was a bit shaken, because with my first step, I missed slightly, and went down the three stairs on my butt! I know I’m not as fast as I was, but at this point, I was up on my feet like a rocket! Another check: neighbours not watching … check … no one came to front door … check … extreme butt pain … check! I was now rattled, but hoped this would be the last of the indignities … I was wrong.

Farther along in my campaign journey, I was just heading to the front door of a house with an attached garage. The owner was just pulling up into the garage, and I thought “this is great, I’ll catch him at the big door!”  

He didn’t want to be caught at the big door, or ANY door! I called out: “excuse me sir, I’m….” but I was met with an answer of: “not interested”…. and the big door’s button was pushed with me bending over, trying to finish my sentence.  

“Uh, I’m not selling anything, I…..” while the door continued to drop and close. Just then it hit me! In a way, I WAS selling something … I was selling ME! I was trying to get his vote, and he wasn’t having ANY of that. For a brief moment, I thought I’d call out that I was some OTHER candidate … but I fought off that instinct! No, I was going to do this “door to door” stuff honestly! Another check: Door down, front door still locked … check … pick up my dropped pamphlets … neighbours not watching … not sure … loss of dignity … check!

Mercifully, the Election day arrived, and I didn’t have to continue my quest. Debbie had forced me onto the “Campaign Death March”, but it was now done! At the high school on Election Day, I was teaching my Grade 12 English class.  

“Tommy” (name not real), was really talking a lot, I thought.  “You know, Tom … I’m going to have to move you if you keep this up,” I said calmly.

“REALLY, Mr. Fule….REALLY…? You’re going to move me, TODAY? I mean, look Mr. Fule, it’s the day of the election, my parents haven’t voted yet, and YOU’RE going to move ME?”  

I can’t tell you what I was thinking, but I CAN tell you that I asked him if he knew he was blackmailing me (politics can be a dirty business)! He replied that he didn’t see it as blackmail … only that he wanted me to consider all my options! I moved him anyway!

Then I did my final count at the end of the day. The day was done, there couldn’t be anything else, could there? I did my final checks:  Campaign over … check … school day over … check … been blackmailed …check! 

(“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that will appear in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)