“This election sign business is turning you back into an
A-type person,” says my partner of 35 years.
“Jeez, Paul,” says my best friend, “it's just like you’re
working again. You’d almost become likeable.”
Yes. I retired four years ago because even I had begun to dislike
the professional “me”. While I felt whole because I had a philosophy justified
by my work for a public sector union, and I could measure my personal impact on
society through my pursuit of that philosophy by just doing my job, I had become
so focused, so humourless and so blind to those around me that, in reality, it
no longer mattered. So I took the retirement pill at the earliest opportunity,
fought those demons and changed my life focus. Over time, I returned to being a
nice guy.
Until two weeks ago.
Sitting at a party constituency association meeting, the
chair asked “who is going to do campaign signs?” and I slowly and thoughtfully raised
my hand. I raised my hand for
Alexa McDonough who fought for my family provincially and federally—who my
children call “Aunt Alexa” and who, though heir to the mantle of Canadian
greats like Tommy Douglas and J. S. Woodsworth, still hugs each of us when we
meet—I raised my hand for my dear late friends Eileen, who taught me to “always
go back to your principles” and Mary Jane, who taught me more about election
campaign mechanics than any average citizen ever needs to know…
I raised my hand because politics does matter. It matters
because there are so many unbelievers who have given up. And if you give up,
you only enable the glory seekers and carpet baggers who, realizing an economic
opportunity, rush in to fill the void.
The job I took on was practical. I’m the guy who pounds
signs into your front lawn.
I hate it and love it. I fear the door knocking; the nasty
old ladies who call for a sign twice and then berate you for pounding it into
their lawns; the feuding couple in which one partner orders a sign, the other
cancels, the ordering partner calls you back and then you’re sent out to remove
it again. But this is how life is lived. The dedicated people called
“politicians”, who disrupt their lives to run for a higher calling, represent
each and every one of us. And regardless of how the news media spins it, I have
met very few politicians from any party who are not the most dedicated, caring and
concerned men and women. Although I no longer want the terror of guiding the
strategy that goes into the structure of a political campaign, I realize that
in retirement, I still have a responsibility and duty to make our society a better
place. And that is why I have put everything on hold for a month. That’s why I
get up every morning, nail signs together and then pound them into strangers’
front lawns. It may seem like a small gesture, but that’s about the best thing
I can do for this country that has given me so much.
It seems like such a small act of thanks for the benefits of
living in this glorious corner of an awful world.
But hey, what do I know? I’m just the sign guy.
