Every time I see candidates’ signs for municipal elections, I remember my three campaigns for the school board in Bryan, Texas, in the 1980s. Each time I placed signs at strategic intersections, but by far the best campaign strategy was door-to-door canvassing. In the seven years I have lived in Kent County, not one aspiring office-holder has knocked on my door. I hope that old-fashioned canvassing has not been completely replaced by social networking and other modern methods of spreading the word about oneself. I found that canvassing was always an adventure, especially when I brought my small sons Justin and Alex.
In my first and only unsuccessful campaign, Justin was four and Alex was two. They wanted to come along, so I put them in the red wagon and we set off for a nice neighborhood where everyone had actually voted in the previous election. We came up to a lovely house and Justin leaped out of the red wagon to ring the doorbell. An old lady opened the door and a little white dog came out and leaped into the wagon with Alex. There was loud music playing. Justin said, matter-of-factly, “That’s Verdi’s Requiem.” The old lady seemed about to faint. She said, ‘You are absolutely right. How did you know that?” (I was thinking that she’d be sure to vote for me.) He said, “Verdi’s Requiem is my third favorite song.” She was delighted and asked him what his other favorite songs were. “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star and The Three Little Pigs,” he said. She seemed less delighted. Then she looked out at Alex, who had just finished feeding the dog a large chocolate bar. We watched, mesmerized as the white dog appeared to turn green. Then, while she went to retrieve her dog, Justin pulled down his zipper and gleefully watered her flowers that had recently won a prize at the Big Texas Fair. (Now I was not only sure I would not get her vote, but I was also afraid that she would call the police.) From then on, I hired a babysitter when I went canvassing.
I lost that first election but decided to try again the next year, this time for an open seat. Again, the boys wanted to come canvassing. Justin wore his Batman cape and Alex wore his Superman cape. They had carefully hidden a jar full of tarantulas under the folds of their capes. I had specifically told them that the tarantulas were not invited to go canvassing, but they were hoping to find a buyer, and they were not disappointed. The first house we came to was owned by a science teacher who was fascinated by the hairy creatures and bought them on the spot to show his students. Some readers may wonder what pre-school children were doing with tarantulas, so here is the back story:
One fine day the boys were digging for oil in the front yard. I casually asked if they were digging down to China (because China was the goal in 1950s Connecticut, where I grew up). Justin gravely replied, “Mom, this is Texas and in Texas you dig for oil.” Just as Captain John Smith and the settlers in Jamestown failed to find gold but made their fortunes in tobacco instead, Justin and Alex Costa failed to find oil but discovered tarantulas and captured them under flower pots. The manager of a nearby pet shop bought them for three dollars apiece. (Apparently, there is quite a market for tarantulas.) My sons may be the only kids in America whose college funds began with tarantula money. I once daydreamed that the boys grew up to be entrepreneurs and that I overheard an elegant woman say at a party, “The Costa boys? They got their start in tarantulas, you know.” In fact, both of them have turned out to be entrepreneurs, but so far at least, neither has had the slightest inclination to run a door-to-door campaign for local office.
MichaelTroup says
“…not one aspiring office-holder has knocked on my door. I hope that old-fashioned canvassing has not been completely replaced.”
Wendy, this line fascinated me. I wrote a few weeks back about how the word “Chestertown” likely means something different to someone on Kent and Calvert than it does to someone on Queen Street. While I admire the fact that our electeds come on here to face the music and discuss the issues of the day, they’re pretty much talking to people who have the same Chestertown experience. I often wonder if they knock on doors in Calvert Heights or Brookhaven to ask about their world view. This is maybe where a guy like John Munson is a critical inclusion to the discussion.
Tina says
Hilarious!!!
And I told you your boye were brilliant from the beginning.