The Republican nominee for president was Jason Fletcher, a 50-something year old first term governor of Ohio. He was not a career politician, or deeply embedded in the ideology of his party. Politicians had learned a lot since 2016 and outsiders, or candidates with minimal political experience, remained quite popular and attractive. Whereas Democratic front runner Wendy Chang openly embraced progressivism and a heavily left-listing platform, Fletcher embraced Trumpism while injecting a bit more commonsense, and even empathy into his campaign. Much to the chagrin of every progressive, President Trump’s second term was a resounding success and he carried high approval ratings in the polls. Yet Chang and the Democrats appeared determined to run on a ‘No third term for Trump’ platform. I honestly did not know how that was going to work out.
My parents and brother immediately went to work volunteering for Chang. The campaign’s North Shore office was opened in town, and I was certain my parents had something to do with that. Chang posters started popping up in many yards around Hamilton and in nearby towns like Wenham, Ipswich, and Essex. My brother Caden went a step above and took it upon himself to put Chang 2028 signs up in every yard on our street. He was smart enough to at least do this in the evening and wear dark clothes. The guise didn’t work really. By the following afternoon half of the signs were down and some neighbors were grumbling about the stunt. Instead of being mad at Caden, my parents were more put off by the possibility that some of our neighbors might be supporting Fletcher instead of Chang.
Labor Day came and went, and campaign season really kicked into overdrive. For me, however, my senior year of high school was starting, and I had much bigger things to concern myself with. Having my father as the principal of my school for the last three years wasn’t such a problem, but my senior year was different. Dad is well respected by the students and teachers alike, but when the school year started, he came across as seriously distracted. I knew it was the campaign. He was still doing a lot of volunteer work for Chang on evenings and weekends. It was really beginning to have an effect. I don’t know for sure, but I assume Mom was the same way at her job.
The polls showed Fletcher and Chang in a dead heat through September. Each weekend my parents went out to canvas neighborhoods. Caden would come home from school and join them. I did too, but only sporadically. I was spending most of my free time doing activities I could list on my college applications, which were set to go out at the end of October. I’d narrowed my choices down to Endicott, a local liberal arts school, Amherst, where my brother was going, and Boston College. I think I had a good shot at all three. My backup was Providence, although my parents were not very happy about that, or BC. They preferred me to attend a non-religious university. We agreed to disagree on this point but I’m sure they were secretly hoping for me to be turned down or wait-listed by both schools.
On the last Saturday in September my friend Rebecca and I drove up to the outlets in New Hampshire. Rebecca had recently gotten her license and her parents gifted her a two-year old BMW 3 Series, so she wanted to take a ride north. I eagerly accompanied her, grumbling to myself about the fact my driving test wouldn’t be coming up until late November. Once we crossed the border into New Hampshire I was struck by the change in the political landscape. Whereas in our part of Massachusetts, and the rest of the state really, Wendy Chang signs and support dominated, it was a different story altogether in the Granite State. Yes, we saw a handful of Chang signs here and there. But by far, southern New Hampshire seemed to be Jason Fletcher country. Rebecca even noticed it, though she dismissed it rapidly. “People up here are reactionary hicks,” was her comment.
I just chuckled. “You don’t even know what reactionary means.”
“Its what my parents call Fletcher supporters, so I guess it fits,” was her quick comeback. Whatever.
October came and the polls remained tight. Chang was ahead by maybe one point nationally. In state it was a different story entirely. Massachusetts, always a left-wing bastion, was guns out backing Chang. She’d win the state by a considerable margin, everyone was certain. From what I saw in New Hampshire though, the pandemic of Chang Fever wasn’t nationwide.
You couldn’t tell that to my parents, or most people in Hamilton though. The excitement level was rising as the month went on. In the three presidential debates held, most analysts said all three were draws, with no clear winners. My parents believed otherwise. They saw Chang’s performance as clear-cut proof that she was destined to win in November and return ‘sanity and justice’ to Washington. Whatever that meant.
To be honest, my parents were becoming difficult to live with. I understood and accepted their enthusiasm, but it was getting downright annoying. The same was true with Caden. He was simply insufferable on the weekends when he came home. On the weekend before Halloween we sat down as a family to dinner. Amid the Chang gushing, and Republican bashing, I innocently wondered aloud what would happen if Chang didn’t win in November. They all laughed it off, confident that Wendy Chang would become our next president and bring the country to a new level of equality and social justice.
Author’s Note: I think I’ll post a third sample from this narrative, just to finish the election backstory. 😊
The Final Days of America 