Missing McAdamsville

Work, job, labor, task...

What tells you if what you are doing belongs on that list? Simply ask yourself, "Am I happier doing this, or not doing this?"

Then you'll know.

I walked into McAdams headquarters last Thursday night and saw Martha multi-tasking at her desk by the door. She smiled and said "Hi George," with the sort of habitual familiarity that accompanies friendship. 

I retuned her greeting and looked back toward Joel's office. At the sound of my name he looked up and smiled, broadcasting the same warmth. "Great to see you," he said, and then he quickly returned to an unfinished project.

My gaze shifted in the direction of our bull pen populated by a checkerboard of mismatched desks. Each was occupied by a computer, a telephone and a person I both knew and cared about. 

Turning toward the hallway I waved to them, but said nothing, not wanting to interrupt their calls. They smiled and waved back even as their presentations continued on without missing a beat. 

Finally, in the back of the office, I found my seat with a group of volunteers earnestly writing on postcards; all of them telling voters, in their own words, why they supported Ben.  

As I sat there I was filled with a feeling hard to define. It was an odd sort of longing, a melancholia founded on nostalgia. Something for which the English language lacks a precise word, but which the Portuguese call "saudade."

I was missing something I still had, anticipating the morning of Wednesday November 7th when, win or lose - and I hope it's win - all of this will be over. 

I'd be missing McAdamsville. I'd miss this sense of mission and purpose. I'd miss the parades, the festivals, the worries, the hopes, the humor. 

But most of all I'd miss these people. Come that fateful Wednesday morning they will all spin off along their own vectors. It will be like a small solar system for which the law of gravity has been repealed.  

There was an ache mixed with gratitude - gratitude mostly to have no one around charging for membership in our campaign, because I could never afford what it's been worth. 

At the beginning of this post I said there's a gut check that will tell you if something is work. Simply ask yourself, "Am I happier doing this, or not doing this?"

Sitting at that table last Thursday night I clearly knew the answer to that question. However, a large part of me wished that I didn't.