Once my dad told me about his first semester of teaching. He was teaching several courses one of which was developmental psychology. He'd taken one course as an undergraduate in developmental, and had not fared well. But now, he was being asked to not only know this, but teach it to others.
So he bought the text book, and just made sure that he read it faster than they did.
That's the feeling I get some days out here. I don't know exactly what to say, or do. I just try to learn the lessons a bit faster than those I'm leading. And when that doesn't work, I try to think about what Jeff would do, or Robert, or Dan, or Tim. The good news is I've had great role models, the terrifying thought is, what if I'm never that good.
In other news: we moved into our new office today. It's wonderful. I have my own private office; that's good for the ego. I have a door and everything. It's pretty great. I'm helping the county chair to set up the office, and am drawing on the insight gleaned from the FOG. Good offices need couches, microwaves, tea kettles, mini-fridges. I wanted to suggest that adding a really cool former Army Ranger would round out the place and give it some needed energy, but that doesn't seem like something she can realistically provide. (Though one of the US Senate candidates, Mike Miles is a former Dean supporter and Army ranger, so that's close).
The best feature of the office is that down the hall in the bathrooms, there is a shower. A full fledged clean, I might add, shower. There are lockers and a little bench. So I'll not stink as much as I might otherwise. Always a plus. I am very excited about the shower.
Let's see what other fun campaign tid bits can I share.
FANDOM
1. While canvassing I saw a truck with a Copenhagen sticker. Not a sticker proclaiming the virtues of the Dutch city (ed note, I'm informed by JKD that I have again screwed up Denmark/Holland/Netherlands/Dutch and Danes...I cannot keep them all straight), rather one professing undying brand loyalty to "chaw." He is clearly not impartial or undecided regarding chewing tobacco. He is a Copenhagen 1, which is just as good for my campaign as a Corn 1.
2. Broncos signs. I'm a nominal sports fan. But I grew up a fairly serious Browns' fan. Every open garage here in Fort Collins has a frickin' Denver Broncos banner. It's maddening. I went so far as to find fellowship with a transplanted Steelers fan---just in our shared annoyance with the Broncos. Said Steelers fan is currently employed as a distributor for tortillas here in Fort Collins. I joked with him, and suggested that that was a better business for here than his hometown of Erie. We decided that in Erie the comparable business is selling wursts, kielbasa, and sausages. He also showed me a shirt his wife had just bought him, it said "The only sign of life in Cleveland" and below that was a interstate sign reading: 146 miles to Pittsburgh. Not sure he'll vote for us, but we both hate the Broncos, so that's something.
3. While walking down a short cul de sac, I encountered a 7 year old boy, Brandon who was cavorting in the middle of the road. He was doing his "trick", which consisted of tucking his knees into his baggy (hand me down, I'm guessing) Chicago Bulls sweatshirt, and then sort of running/bouncing/lunging. It's hard to explain, but essentially he used his arms to pull himself forward while kicking his tucked under legs. Imaginge Gollum from LOTR. Sorta like that. Every few feet he'd stop and make sure I was looking. When he sat still he looked like those mushroom men that you squash in Super Mario Brothers, what with his arms pulled into the sweatshirt and his feet just sticking out from under the Bulls logo. Brandon ran (in a normal manner) over to me and informed me that the doorstep I was on was where Marcos lived (well actually the house, not the doorstep). Sure enough I knocked on the door (with Bradon at the end of the driveway behind me) and sliding on the linoleum floor in his baseball gear (stirrups and all) was Marcos. I talked to Marcos' mom and moved to the next house. I was told by my newest staffer (Brandon) that this next house was his home. I knocked on the door and sure enough there was a man who claimed parentage for my 7 year old accomplice. Brandon's father, had a tattoo. Truthfully, he had several. The most unusual, and potentially the most unusual I've ever seen was a full color reproduction of the MOPAR logo on his inside forearm. Yup, MOPAR like the auto parts. This was a level of brand loyalty, affinity, devotion that I'd never imagined. Very nice conversation, but I just tried to construct a story that explained what experience would lead to such a tatoo. I struck out. He's just a big fan of MOPAR. You gotta root for something.
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