08 November 2017

The Day After

Every year, the politicians campaign, standing around the train station, and in front of Starbucks, and at the farmers market, and anywhere else they can see and be seen. Last night, election night, all six of the people running for town office - plus a bunch of their surrogates - were on the train platform or in the overpass or at the bottom of the stairs. It was like running a gauntlet to get out of the station.

Once upon a time, we lived in Manhattan, on the Upper East Side. Our state senator was, for most of the time that we lived there, a liberal Republican named Roy Goodman. He was the kind of liberal Republican that won cross endorsements from the Independence Party and the Liberal Party - so I'd happily vote for him on the Liberal line. After a nail-biter of a last race, in which I voted for his opponent, he served one last term in the Senate - thirty three years altogether.

The thoroughly endearing thing that Goodman did after every election? He'd assume his campaigning position at the top of the stairs to the 86th subway station, wearing his utilitarian and slightly wilted trench coat, and hold up a sign that said "Thank You".

This morning, there was no one at the train station to say thank you. I don't need to be thanked for my vote, but I have to say that it made an impression.