36 days

In 1968, a teachers strike in NYC closed the school doors for just enough time for me to get knee-deep in my first political campaign.  While my classmates met regularly to tackle SAT words, trig problems, and new Spanish conjugations — with my parents’ blessing, I found my way to the local O’Dwyer/McCarthy HQ  and tagged on to visibility efforts across the city.  I gave out flyers, sized up delis to see if there were enough people to merit a quick visit from the candidate, and wove through a standing room only fundraiser at  Madison Square Garden collecting contributions.  36 days on a launching pad: new friends, and then back to the Castle on the Hill, Music and Art..  Eventually,  symptoms of campaign fever receded —  just a brief visit to  the 51st State campaign,  to see what was going on.  I helped the tiniest bit on a Philly race — but mostly led a campaign-free life  until Al Lowenstein’s Congressional Primary run in 1978, which I’ll get back to on Al’s birthday ( 1/16). And then, years later, at my 10 year old’s feisty insistence,  we joined the presidential race that Gore really won.  Oh, I miss all those GOTV calls, the door-to-door visits — never to forget  Kathleen and her daughters inciting us to wave our campaign banners together on the busiest corners.  2012?  Is it really here?