I hike up my skirt hoping I don’t split the seam. Silently I curse the blue pencil skirt I usually enjoy wearing. I settle myself into the back with a sigh. Off come the shoes. Alden drives. “Rachel, please close the window”, I say. “It’s killing my hair.” One thing I abhor about the campaign is the attention given to how I look and not what I stand for. In the press, the state of my hair is as important as the state of the union. Last week after a press conference at the veterans hall I fought to get funding for, an overweight woman sidled up to me and said, “Your hair is too light” and then hurried away. Is she or isn’t she going to vote for me? Or does she even vote?
Another time I was speaking before a group about the need to temper development with concern for the environment. I received a good reception. Heading back to the car, I stumbled on a broken step and almost fell. I made the front page of three dailies. “A Fein Stumble” bannered one paper. Another emblazoned, “The Lady’s Still Fein” across my image. No one mentioned my speech on development. As I fumed and then became resigned, Alden thought it great visibility. His view, better some coverage than none.
My opponent, George Haley, can get away with wearing the same color suit and swapping a red and blue tie for his entire campaign. When he courts the unions, he takes off the jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his custom-made shirt to give the impression of being a common man. In truth, he grouses about touching so many hands and keeps hand sanitizer in his front trouser pocket.
My thoughts are interrupted by Alden. He talks non-stop. There is something unsettling about him and I wish I didn’t have to deal with him. Never would have picked him to run my campaign but I was overruled. The party boss was adamant and if I want to go back to the state senate, I must go along. “Lyris, if you want re-election, this is your guy,” he had said. “You were lucky last time,” he added.
His advice also led to more use of words like reinvigorate, revitalize and phrases like create opportunities along with bringing jobs to the district, improving education appearing in my speeches. Catch phrases used by every legislative candidate no matter which state they are running in. It hurt when he felt compelled to remind me that I was no Kirsten Gillibrand (the NY State Senator). I just glared at him when he said that. He shrugged.
It is hard to accept that after more than 10 years in public service with three important bills passed, I must bow to the party boss or risk funding for my campaign. I do it because despite it all, I want to make the lives of people in my district better, especially those so seldom listened to.
“Are you listening?” Alden interrupts my thoughts. I assure that I am. I don’t like him and he doesn’t like me. One thing I can say in his favor is he knows the political landscape. His livelihood depends on delivering a winning candidate. He is constantly calculating how everything I say “will play.” The spin is everything. This week’s poll says this and the next poll says the opposite. When he starts “the poll says,” I have to restrain my impulse to strike him. Rachel worships Alden. I suspect they are sleeping together. Rachel is a fresh-faced brunette who graduated cum laude in Political Science from Brown and here she is spreading for this paunchy middle-aged dickhead. Oh, well they say politics makes strange bedfellows.
Yesterday, he wanted to leak that my opponent has a mistress in the city and a wife in a no-show job. I gave him a firm no on that. I will not run a dirty campaign. Why can’t I just stick to the issues?
Rachel and Alden are reviewing the day’s schedule. Seven stops. I hope my sanity and feet make it. One at a senior citizen center. I don’t mind that one. One thing I can count on, they vote. What is this pain in my head? And then I realize, I’m hungry. I skipped breakfast. I left my husband to get the kids up and off to school. I make a promise to myself that as soon as the election is over, we will take a few days and go somewhere with the kids. They are wonderful, not a word of complaint but still I feel guilty.
I suggest a quick stop at McDonald’s but Alden nixes that in a hurry. “No time” he says, “we are already behind schedule.” I grab yesterday’s bag of Doritos and gulp down water as we pull into the senior center’s parking lot. Only ten days to go.
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