Running for Office

How do people choose who will provide leadership to them? In some cultures, leadership is passed from father to son (less commonly, to a daughter) or announced as an anointing. In other people groups, the leader may be the loudest, the bravest, the most charismatic or the richest. In the United States, a rather elaborate system has evolved of campaigns, advertisements, endorsements and voting that selects leaders of both local communities  and national interests. It’s called politics.

 

In this politically tense world of 2021, why would anyone in their right mind want to run for public office? For the one with a desire – or a calling – to lead, dipping a  foot into the election process is a daunting task. It helps to be on the right (or left) side of a demographic, and the ability to raise money remains an important key. It’s apparently not necessary to have previous political experience, as football coach (Tommy Tuberville), minister (Raphael Warnock), and ophthalmologist (Rand Paul) are among our U.S. senators. But regardless of background, one thing is clear – political candidates have got to be willing to pick up the phone to call potential donors, and, at least pre-pandemic, knock on a lot of doors and kiss a baby or two. 

 

If I ever seriously considered running for public office, my past experience of going “door to door” would scare me away. I thought first of my days of training to be a Salvation Army officer, when we donned our uniforms on Saturday morning to go door-to-door, selling The War Cry, the Army’s magazine. Interrupting someone’s leisurely cup of coffee to pitch a magazine that our potential customers probably didn’t want was a not-so-subtle attempt to solicit donations and invite conversation about faith. As an introvert, I dreaded Saturday mornings during those two years.

 

I’m wondering if my dislike of door-knocking was rooted in a traumatic experience I had as a young child. My mother was often tapped to visit her neighbors for a donation to a worthy cause, such as the March of Dimes or Easter Seals. At age five, I was helping her collect money for the hospital expansion drive when I fell off the porch of one of those neighbors, breaking my arm. No wonder the hospital needed to expand.

 

I’m not up for election, but I have great respect for those who take up that challenge. In the absence of the dreaded television commercials that ran ad nauseum a year ago, we may not realize that we’re currently in the midst of an election cycle in local communities across Ohio, but we are. In a little over two months, we’ll go to the polls to vote for city council members, school board members, coroners and maybe even dog catchers. Some voters will sit this one out, while others will look for a familiar name or pull the red or blue lever just because that’s what we’ve always done. 

 

Instead, can this be the year to take seriously Tip O’Neill’s claim that “all politics  are [is] local,” and get to know those willing to offer leadership within our cities and towns? As an example, two friends of mine are ‘rookies,’ running for public office for the first time. One’s a Democrat, one’s a Republican, but  their character and commitment to their community takes precedence over whether they lean left or right. In Orville, Bev Squirrel is running to represent her neighbors on city council, and Ashland’s Emily Huestis has the same goal. Both are smitten immigrants to their cities, so I can relate. I’ve watched them parent their children, serve their communities, and offer hospitality to both friends and strangers. They have a good heart for people, probably a better qualification for public service than professional wrestling fame (former Minnesota governor Jesse the Body Ventura).

 

Here’s the challenge. Between now and November’s election, get to know them and the others who hope to serve. If they knock on your door, hear them out. Ask yourself: who will govern wisely, with commitment and compassion? Then get to the polls on November 2 and vote.