Different Kinds and Colors

A debate is unlike any other political event. Parades, canvassing, phone calls, festivals and speeches all have this in common: your participation is on your own terms. You're doing it in the company of like minded people. There is no sense of conflict.

Debates are the one instance where two candidates, and two campaigns collide. It's like a place where matter and antimatter are brought together. Everyone's curious about what will happen, but it's nerve-racking if you're quite fond of that small bit of matter at the center of the experiment.

I had the day off, so I went to McAdams headquarters hoping to spend my day there. As soon as I walked in the door I could tell something was different. There was a sense of tension and urgency. Martha didn't say hello, instead she gave me a look caught between hope and pleading. "Where will you be tonight?" she insisted.

I felt like a misbehaving husband on a short leash. "At the KUTV debate," I replied, a bit defensively.

Her posture relaxed, and I could hear a feminine voice somewhere in the background say, "You're an angel."

I know that's not true, but still, it's nice to hear your attempt to fool the world has been marginally successful.

We were caught somewhat flat footed. A few on the staff thought the debate was scheduled for the following Monday. The consequence of this misunderstanding fell disproportionately on Martha's shoulders. She was desperately calling; hoping to find enough volunteers to provide Ben with a show of support.

She needn't have panicked. One of the wonders of the McAdams' following is that in response to an urgent call aprons get hung, hard hats hit the ground, textbooks snap shut, and a small while later you have a bus filled with orange t-shirts.

So it was yesterday.

As the "Ben Bus" rolled up State Street, in all its gaudy orange glory, motorists honked, people waved, and arms extended from car windows with a thumb pointed up. It was a wonderfully affirming experience. I thought that if the point of our exercise was to give Ben encouragement, then he should be on this bus. He should see what we're seeing.

My views on the issues, and the two candidates, are well documented. Therefore, I won't bore you with a recapitulation and call it my analysis of the debate. Instead, let me share two favorite experiences.

Before the debate started Mark Crockett walked over to our huge contingent. It was meant as a show of good sportsmanship, and it was accepted that way. In an effort to make small talk he commented on the different shades of orange worn by our various volunteers.

Laurel, a lovely young woman with a wicked sense of humor, leaned over and whispered to our row, "We're Democrats Mark, we come in all different kinds and colors."

Nicely put.

When the debate was over I started to drift back in the direction of the bus. Suddenly I noticed Ben's wife Julie, who had been invisible during the pre-debate milling about.

In greeting I said, "Hey Julie, where have you been? I didn't see you earlier."

She gave me a hug and said sheepishly, "I was hiding over there behind the greenery."

"What? Why on earth would you do that?"

"I can't stand watching Ben when he's in this kind of situation. And besides, it only makes him nervous if he sees me in the crowd."

Here's a Columbia trained lawyer. An expert in intellectual property law. Julie could have a frontal lobotomy and still be smarter than I am. But her comment could not have been more honest or disarming.

At that moment, if she were my sister, I'd have put my arms around her. Not to offer consolation or reassurance, but simply to say, "What a wonderful human being. Don't you dare ever change."

And so ends my wrap up of yesterday's debate, minus anything that actually happened during the debate. But that's life, it always happens when you're on your way to do something entirely different.