And now, one of my favorite election stories ... one that I don't think I've told in this space before:
My mother and father were registered members of the Conservative Party in New York when they lived in suburban Buffalo before moving. This was a rather exclusive club, since most people are registered members of the two major parties. In this particular year, which was sometime in the Eighties, there was a primary within the Conservative Party for a town office.
One day of two before the primary, the doorbell rang. Mom answered the door, and there was a man at the doorstep. He was running for that town office in the primary, and sought her support. Mom talked to him briefly, took his literature and closed the door.
That's all quite typical. The primary came and went, and then something atypical happened.
The doorbell of our house rang three days later. That same man who was campaigning earlier in the week was back.
Mom was rather startled to see him when she opened the door. She mumbled a "Can I help you?" The candidate apologized for returning, but had a question for her.
"Did you vote for me in the primary?" he asked.
"Um, no," Mom answered.
"OK. There seems to have been something odd about the returns, and I've been checking on it."
"Well, how many votes did you get?"
"Oh ... I'm sorry."
And off the candidate went to the next house, in futile search of someone, anyone who claimed to vote for him.
Ah, politics. A humbling business.
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