8/16/24

THE ELECTION HITS CLOSE TO HOME - SORT OF

       USUALLY, THE PRESIDENTIAL ELECTION has seemed both urgent and  personal – but always far away.
      Then, suddenly, it’s practically in our backyard.
      Which was the case yesterday.
      Tim Walz - who just nine days earlier was named by Kamala Harris, the Democrat’s presumptive nominee for president, as her running mate -  was right here in my hometown, Newport, R.I.
      Walz, in fact, passed just a few feet away from my wife and me on his way to a fundraising event, which itself was a mere eight-tenths of a mile from our house.
      Our goals were modest. Probably we wouldn't meet Walz. But would we catch sight of him?
       Walz, since being introduced to the nation only on Aug. 6, has has added to the excitement that Vice President Harris as stirred among Democrats - including us - since she replaced  President Joe Biden as the party’s best bet to keep Donald Trump out of the White House and to keep American free.
      It was Walz who labeled Trump as “weird,” which quickly became the party’s favorite word to humiliate Trump. Overnight, Walz emerged as a the embodiment of the down-home favorite uncle, a guy who liked to hunt, who coached high school football, served in the National Guard and wasn’t at all ashamed of defending progressive outrages like serving lunch to hungry school children. One of his old campaign ads, when running for governor,  showed him giving advice on a cheap do-it-yourself way of fixing your headlights, all the better to get voters safely to the polls.
      So, it would have been great to chew the fat with the neighborly Tim Walz, maybe pick up some pointers on repairing our balky gutters, or probe his views on the best way to protect democracy from the despotic and despicable Mr. Trump.

WHEN WORD FIRST GOT OUT that Walz would be stopping off in Newport, there was a fair amount of mystery to the event. Nobody – at least nobody we knew – seemed aware of what time he would arrive, where he would be and what route he might take to get there.
      Walz was in Newport as part of a five-state swing to gather campaign cash as opposed to actually meeting lots of voters.
      Unwilling to part with $1,000 for a ticket for the event, much less $10,000 to have our photo taken with the guest of honor, Mr. & Mrs. Jones best hope was for a glimpse of the man, or at least to spot his car.
    News stories indicated the event would be in one of the city's former Robber Baron mansions, including some that make up part of Salve' Regina University's spectacular campus, which overlooks the city’s ocean fronting Cliff Walk.
    Then,  my wife got an email from the Newport Democratic City Committee, suggesting an impromptu  welcoming party  gather between 12:30 and 1 p.m. at the corner of one of the city’s busiest intersections - Memorial Boulevard at Bellevue Avenue.
    Bellevue Avenue is the city’s signature "street," which includes the Tennis Hall of Fame, along with restored mansion/museums like The Elms, Marble House, Rosecliff and Rough Point.
    Thirty or so people showed up. No one seemed to know in which direction the Walz motorcade – assuming there would be a motorcade – would be traveling.
    But it was a boisterous group – reflecting the mania Harris and now Walz have let loose. Some people brought handmade signs – MIND YOUR OWN DAMN BUSINESS (a popular Walz quote defending abortion rights); DEMOCRACY YES, AUTOCRACY NO, WELCOME GOV. WALZ! And HONK FOR DEMOCRACY.

    Now, Newport police began blocking traffic in all directions, a good omen, at least for the welcoming party. But backed-up motorists began leaning on their horns, but probably they were not honking for democracy.
    Flashing lights appeared, coming in from the west.
    A swarm of police motorcycles grew closer, sweeping through the left-turn onto Bellevue.
    They were followed by handful of the kind of big black SUVs favored by politicians and those who guard them. The windows were rolled up, so you couldn’t make out who was who inside.
      But one of them HAD to be carrying Walz.
      And then they were gone.

    
    BACK HOME, I HOPED FOR ANOTHER SIGHTING.
      Driving to Salve Regina University obviously would be a lost cause.
      But I figured I could walk there from our home in a modest neighborhood that once housed many of the people who worked in the original summer mansions. (My wife wisely took a pass on this venture).
      Who would be suspicious of an elderly man, about the age of Joe Biden, stumbling along the side streets clutching his antique camera?
    “I know you can’t answer this,” I said to one police person, whose cruiser was blocking one of the streets leading to the university, “but could you tell me when the motorcade will leave?”
    “They’ll be there for an hour and 15 minutes. They arrived at 1,” replied  the officer, who was surprisingly pleasant, but left me to do the rest of the math.
    I headed toward the largest of the side streets, where earlier I'd had seen a smiling woman waving a huge TRUMP banner, and who now, thankfully, had disappeared.
    I hiked down to Ochre Point Avenue, where the event reportedly was being held. There was a police person in the middle of the road, which was completely empty.
    “I guess I can’t go down the street,” I said.
    “That’s right,” the officer said.
    “Thank you,” I said.
    “Thank you,” the officer said, but in a way that indicated I’d overstayed my welcome.
    I headed back toward Bellevue Avenue, passing an intersection where several cruisers were parked, with officers directing traffic away from the university.
    “Would I be wasting my time if I waited here?” I asked yet another police officer.
    “They didn’t come this way,” the officer said. “They were supposed to, but the route was changed at the last minute.”
    As I walked back to Bellevue Avenue,  I was thinking how stressful it must be to be part of a security detail like this, especially after the near assassination of Trump, before which the gunman had been spotted, but eluded local and federal officers.
    Now, police where holding up traffic in every direction on Bellevue Avenue and its intersections. Again the horns sounded, and not honking for democracy.
    A long stretch of the roadway was empty of cars. Tourists visiting the mansions were on the sidewalks, seemingly unaware of what was going on around them.
    Someone pushing a wheelchair moved it off the bumpy sidewalk and onto the smoother roadway.
    “Get back on the sidewalk," an officer bellowed. "GET BACK ON THE SIDEWALK!”
    A man hauling a wagon containing two small children tried the same thing.
    “Get off of the road. GET OFF THE ROAD!”   
In the distance, the rumble of motorcycles.
    A squadron of motorcycles emerged from a side street and roared past. But no SUVs.

    Then a second group of motorcycles, followed by the motorcade, raced up the avenue. Had that first group been a deliberate distraction?
    I took as many photos as I could with the old camera. Again, presumably Tim Walz was in one of those big, black cars just a few feet away.
      He HAD to be in one.

EPILOGUE
    Back home, I looked through my text messages.
    One was from Walz. It turned out that, despite my failed attempts to catch sight of him, he and I actually were on a first-name basis.

 Brian, Tim Walz here. I had to text you about an observation that I’ve made. You’ve probably made it too. It’s about Donald Trump and JD Vance.
These guys are creepy. And, yes, just weird as hell. Right?
If you agree, then I hope you’ll pitch in to defeat them, power Kamala and my campaign, and support Democrats across the country today.
https://kamala-harris.us/7x64Pm
Let's win this thing,
Tim

    The hyperlink leads to a campaign site, suggesting a range of donations,  starting at a modest $25.
     The election remained so urgent, so personal, and so far away. But it felt right that for an hour or two it really had been close to home.