This folksy trend seems to be spreading

Anyone else struck by the number of presidential candidates running on a first-name basis? Pete, Amy, Bernie, Tulsi, Tom, Beto, and for a while Kamala. In contrast to those who run on their more formal surnames. You know, the folksy thing. Or at least something easier to remember. It works if your moniker isn’t too generic, say like John or Mike or Mary, I guess.

It’s not entirely new. I mean, historically there was Honest Abe and Teddy the Rough Rider and later Ike and Adalai and then Hillary. Or even the initials, JFK and LBJ.

In local elections, our neighbor recently won the mayor’s seat. Well done, Bob.

Catching up on the campaigns

I had hoped that this would be the presidential primary year when I would finally be able to get out and meet the candidates – all of them – face to face. Get a measure of them. In the past, I was usually tied up at the office or in other scheduling conflicts.

In New Hampshire, many of the campaigns start out with house parties, where the candidates talk informally in people’s living rooms, or in fraternal lodges or town halls and the like, and then build up to larger venues. Since the televised debates often screen out those candidates struggling in the survey polling, serious voters will seek out opportunities to give everyone a chance to be heard and considered. This is, after all, grassroots politics.

Somehow, my calendar in the fall and early winter filled up with other activities. So I decided I’d devote the weeks just before and after the Iowa caucuses to the project. What I discovered, though, was that almost all of the remaining events were now scheduled in Merrimack Valley, over an hour away from the seacoast region where I live – that is, they’re in Manchester, Nashua, and Concord. And the U.S. senators in the running were all stuck in the impeachment hearings in Washington.

Well, there have been some surprises since then.

One was on Tuesday afternoon, the day after Iowa, when Amy Klobuchar spoke at South Church in Portsmouth. I attended and am glad I did. The sanctuary was packed, every seat on the main floor, and she really delivered. I had a much better appreciation for her as a presidential contender. Actually, she was amazing.

And Sunday afternoon, Pete Buttigieg appears at the middle school here in Dover. I’m planning to be there, for perspective, if nothing else.

I do regret not starting on this project earlier. I’m left wondering about those who simply failed to connect, what we’re missing.

Still, we’ve met with some interesting and devoted volunteers who’ve canvassed at our front door. And we’ve been following the local news. So it goes, down to the wire.

A definitely wrong spirit of Christmas

As they pulled up at home after a jaunt to the grocery, another car scuttled out the other end of their driveway.

They didn’t recognize the vehicle or the figures who had hopped in a split-second earlier, but the action certainly was suspicious.

Then they found one Christmas wreath on the ground beside the barn and another, still hanging on the white clapboards, with its wires quite bent.

Yes, two people were trying to steal the Christmas wreaths from the siding!

Kinda puts a damper on that “goodwill to men,” doesn’t it? Though the phrase is, more accurately, “to men of good will.”

We’re still baffled that some people have so little conscience that they’ll resort to this, but maybe they’re desperate to veil themselves in images foreign to their real nature.

Um, look around, though, and it’s far more universal than I want to think.

This points toward the hard work of changing hearts and actions – literally, repentance – that the life of Jesus embodies.

Well, I won’t go off on that sermon just now. But we are still saddened by the audacity of ill will.

KEEPING THE COMPANY IN CHECK

Across New England, the spire on city hall typically had prominent clock. Its purpose, I’m told, wasn’t just civic pride.

No, it was to keep the mill owners in check, just in case they were tinkering with their own clocks to squeeze unpaid time out of their workers.

It’s comforting to know the town fathers could stand up to corporate powers. Most of the owners, by the way, lived far from these sources of their wealth. Many of them were Boston Brahmins clustered around Harvard.

In honor of the workers and those who stand up for them, Happy Labor Day.

FAMILY VALUES

Mrs. Richardson had been yelling at the kid
the fifth-grade girl who came around to our door
begging money to pay the babysitter

Mrs. Richardson yelled at the grandchild
for three days, and spanked her

then they were crying, in different parts of the building
all the while, their phonograph repeated
“the angels sing, glory to the newborn king”

~*~

Mrs. Richardson was pale as death
her face, hollow as a skull; hair, powder gray
her lips were chalky, and the eyes barely moved
she was thin as a broomstick

her son returned, with a cardboard suitcase
and cowboy boots
he wouldn’t stay long, if he could help it

To continue, click here.
Copyright 2015

 

WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THE QUOTATIONS BLUR?

When someone speaks of an event while quoting someone else, how accurate is that quotation? How much is a recasting by the teller, perhaps years after the event being related?

In drafting my newest novel, as I turned to a first-person narrative by someone who never even met many of the characters she’s telling about, I realized that her quoting them was actually a filtering through her own voice. In other words, the precision of their voice was in question. Would it be right to put their input in quotations marks? Or eliminate the quotation marks and let the telling float in and out of some recollection?

I’ve opted for the latter. Will it work for the reader, though? We’ll see.