So much of my life seems filled with ghosts and shadows these days. I have done all of the things portray myself to have done. And yet during these long days of illness it feels as if it may not have really been true.
then I close my eyes and drift off and I am there, it is not merely a memory, it is real, tangible and tactile.
The cold afternoons the even colder nights, walking and knocking on doors, hands full of pamphlets. Joe, he told us to call him that, was running against J. Caleb Boggs. The odds were against us.
J Caleb Boggs was a veteran of World War II, and a member of the Republican Party, who served three terms as U.S. Representative from Delaware, two terms as Governor of Delaware, and two terms as U.S. Senator from Delaware. He was known by his middle name. Boggs was elected to the U.S. Senate in 1960, defeating incumbent Democratic U.S. Senator J. Allen Frear, Jr. by 1.4%, and becoming the only Republican to defeat an incumbent Democratic U.S. Senator that year.
He was a formidable opponent.
It was my very first campaign, my first taste of the American Electoral Process for election, my first exposure to the people and places that shaped my state and my country. I did most of my volunteer work in my School Uniform, too excited to go home and change before getting my assignments. The volunteer work interfered with my music, and arts after school activities, but Fr Sprague seemed to understand, never cutting me from the Marching band or chorus that year.
I am standing outside of the Polls holding the Joe Biden for Senate sign, in my jeans and that really smart maxi coat I had just gotten, the air was filled with electricity as each person came to cast that all important Vote. I was a part of the great democracy of the United States. I could not have been more proud.
Then I am awake again, the pain brings reality around too fast, they call it break through pain and the memories fade into the shadows. I take a pain pill, and in a about an hour, the shadows come back as visions.
I am older this time, sitting in the Armory as a poll worker, checking drivers licenses against long lists of names, we got there at 4:30 am, and we will be here until it is over.
The older workers are complaining, too long between breaks, too many dang people wanting in to vote. I don't mind, this is much better than the last election where I was walking around out there in cold like I used to, Standing out side the door, 30 feet away of course, holding someones sign, shifting form foot to foot to keep warm. No school girl uniform now, I have babies, and my husband is home with them. We argued about me being gone this long, but I refuse to back down, I thought it was a privilege to do this work for my country.
Pain wins out again, and I am up, this goes on all day every day, sleeping 1 1/2 - 2 hours, up for 2- 3 hours, and round and round.
I drift off, and I am here, in my house, the old one Pre Isabel, I am excited, I have been called to DC to work. Chosen! I will represent my company in negotiations, and act as a liaison to other large corporations and the government. I think I have died and gone to heaven.
But I have not, instead I have been lead into the gates of hell. I see the men and yes they were all men, I worked all those campaigns for, cheating stealing, lying. They do not care about the American public, just themselves.
So while I wait for my house to be foreclosed on, because no one can go years and years without work or social security and NOT pay a heavy price. watching my husband working so very hard, only to come home and have to take care of me.
Make no mistake I have been made offers too, a 45 foot boat, double my pay for one year, my yearly salary in one lump sum, three times my salary, 5 million. Please just get that contract. Give me that contract, I want that contract.
Like and Asshole I never took the bribes, what an idiot, I could have supported my family better. There is no more thrill for me, I am here 11 years now, I want to know:
What happened,I want to know why, I want to know how you politicians sleep at night. When did ti stop being about the American Public and was now only about you and your greed?
This time the pain is a relief, and instead of taking another pill, I sit and write this diary.