Everything to Envy

What a ride!

And who could have predicted an ending like this?

A week ago we were hoping to scrap together a narrow victory. Ben confided that whatever happened, he hoped we'd be spared a re-count similar to what followed the indecisive Republican mayoral primary.

Sure, we had internal polls beginning to suggest a five or six point Ben advantage, but we discarded them.

It was difficult to trust any poll in the year of the "Romney Tsunami," simply because circumstances were so exceptional. When the Trib's "Mason-Dixon Mistake" was published a momentary seizure of angst affected us all.

Our polls refuted "the mistake," but we knew something totally unexpected could happen, and in fact it did.

Along with a mob of other volunteers I spent election day calling voters potentially favorable to Ben. We had so many volunteers we were obliged to station a large contingent outside. They held signs and waved at passing traffic while waiting for Joel to step outside, announce that a phone was free, and one of their number could come inside.

By 7:30 we had called 97% of potential Ben voters. That's somewhere close to 110,000 calls.

At last I hung up the phone for the last time and scurried off to the Sheraton for the Democratic party's election night festivities.

I was fully prepared to stake out a TV and watch returns late into the evening. Then, on my dash to the McAdams' suite, I was waylaid by our campaign manager.

Justin said early voting had us up by 9%.

That was a shock. We expected early voting to favor Crockett.

Then, a few steps down the hall, someone announced a BYU exit poll forecasting a McAdams' double digit victory.

A half-hour later I was told to stay in the Salt Lake County suite. The meaning was clear. An announcement of Ben's victory would be forthcoming and I should be there to see it.

I was bewildered. Three days before we had attempted to explain a ten point deficit, now we enjoyed a ten point lead. I was suspended in a cloud of euphoria I couldn't entirely trust.

Then came "the call." Ashley Sumner bolted into the room announcing Ben had received Crockett's concession call. At last every reservation crumbled. A wave of acceptance carried me to a place where the rest of our campaign already celebrated.

Ben walked in close behind her. We embraced as if one of us had just emerged from a plane crash and into the grateful arms of the other. The impossible became believable.

The mayor elect floated to the front of a current leading all of us to a stage where his acceptance speech would be given. A huge raucous crowd produced a staccato cheer, "Ben, Ben, Ben, Ben..."

Once on the stage I stood directly to his left. Ben's wife, Julie, stood slightly behind and to his right. Close behind them both Ben's daughter Kate was held in someone's arms.

Ben looked out at a wildly cheering crowd with his wife and daughter just outside his field of view. Julie and Kate watched him, transfixed and oblivious to the chaos around them. I stood there looking past Ben, unconscious of his speech; watching only the faces of Julie and Kate.

Regarding the adulation of that bouncing and ecstatic throng, there was little to make me jealous. Regarding the unreserved affection on those two beautiful faces, there was everything to envy.