I have a lot in common with my hometown of Biddeford.
I am at a crossroads, and I have decided that all good things must come to an end. It’s been an incredibly fun ride, but it’s time for me to make some changes.
You may have already noticed, but last week I put All Along the Watchtower — my personal blog — to bed.
Going forward, this site will focus solely on my new business venture. The blog posts will be less personal and focused more on subjects such as public policy, politics, economic development, media trends and healthcare.
The timing for this seemed right. For many years, All Along the Watchtower focused primarily on the city of Biddeford and its political infrastructure. Because my wife was recently elected to the Biddeford City Council, it would be increasingly difficult to write about the city objectively.
And then, I decided to start my own business.
Many people have asked why I decided to launch Randy Seaver Consulting. A number of factors converged; some anticipated, some beyond my control.
Laura and I have been talking about doing this for more than a year, and finally the time seemed right. So, I find myself at a crossroads. A proverbial turning point in my life.
It is exciting and simultaneously terrifying. There is no safety net. Either I swim or I drown.
Now, with the disclosure out of the way, I would like to offer a few final thoughts on my hometown of Biddeford, a city that is facing its own crossroads; its own turning point.
Biddeford is in the midst of a renaissance, a revitalization that would be impossible to recognize 15 or 20 years ago. There is a new vibrancy here. The city’s narrative is changing and people all over Maine are noticing.
But still, there is an internal conflict in the city and it’s not so subtle sometimes.
I read something on Facebook recently that left me shaking my head. It was penned by a woman who claimed she moved here three weeks ago.
Essentially, this woman wrote that the city does not need a parking garage because downtown has nothing to offer but crime and crappy businesses. Who would want to come here? Why would they need parking? There is already plenty of street parking because Biddeford — basically — sucks.
I fought the urge to respond to this woman. I had a few questions for her. 1.) Why did you choose to move to Biddeford, if it is truly as bad as you say? 2.) Were you court-ordered to move here? 3.) Did someone force you to live here?
I understand that change is uncomfortable. I am experiencing my own incredible set of changes (and challenges). But change is part of growth while stagnation leads to decay.
I can appreciate the apprehension some people have about the city’s transformation. I also fully support the notion of constructive criticism from people who are worried about being priced out of their homes because of property taxes. These conversations happen in every community across the country.
But Biddeford has something unique, there is a strong element of self-loathing here.
Over the last few months, countless social media accounts have been set up for no other purpose than to spread negativity and vitriol through the city. No solutions are offered, none of these folks step forward to actually do anything other than gripe.
Self-hatred is prevalent here, and I wonder why more of our residents are not rooting for the city’s success. I don’t expect anyone to become a cheerleader. I respect different opinions and perspectives, but if you stay focused on the negative then you will find yourself in a negative place.
I am at a crossroads, and if I want to be successful, I must focus on success.
If I want my clients to succeed then I must keep my energy positive while also remaining open to constructive criticism.
It is the same for my hometown.
I am excited and anxious about my future. It’s no different in Biddeford.
Earlier this week, I sensed a disturbance in the force, and sure enough there was significant shift taking place in the city of Biddeford’s political landscape.
On Thursday afternoon, State Senator David Dutremble, a Democrat from Biddeford, announced that he will not seek a third consecutive term in the Maine Legislature. Within 30 minutes of Dutremble’s announcement, Joanne Twomey, a former state legislator and mayor, announced that she would seek Dutremble’s seat.
Oh, happy day.
And to think I was wondering about the subject of my next blog post.
My phone began ringing off the hook. “What are we going to do?” people asked. “We can’t let this happen.”
Republicans began salivating about the potential of capturing the District 32 seat for the first time in 30 years.
After all, Twomey has lost her last four bids for elected office. She embarrassed herself on the state and national stage by lobbing a jar of Vaseline at Governor Paul LePage during an event in Saco. She was carried out of the room, kicking and screaming.
The woolly mammoth was weakened, and the cavemen fetched their spears.
Over the years, I have watched Twomey closely. She considers me a mortal enemy. She has publicly referred to me as “the Darth Vader of Biddeford.”
Even I toyed with the idea of running for the seat, which brought an almost immediate response from Twomey on Facebook: Look forward to running against a Republican Randy Seaver, nothing would make me happier.
Crazy like a fox
I’m a pretty cynical guy, but even I fell for Joanne Twomey’s self-described narrative of being a champion for the downtrodden.
During her first term as a state representative in 1998, I was working as the editor of the Biddeford-Saco-OOB Courier, and I penned a glowing column about Twomey, describing her “a champion of the people, a fearless advocate for those with no voice within the political power structure.”
She liked me then, and she invited me to her home for a second interview in her back yard, serving fresh fruit, sandwiches and cookies. I threw journalistic ethics out the window and devoured those cookies. (They were awesome)
But as the weeks and months wore on, and as I heard other stories about Twomey and her stint as a city councilor in the early 1990s, my perception changed. I learned that she kept a political enemies list. Once I criticized her for something, my name found its way to that list.
In reality, there is only one thing Twomey cares about: her own political ambition. She refuses to be pragmatic in order to achieve goals. Instead, she conducts herself like a petulant child, stubbornly digging in her heels and shrieking that she is “principled above all else.”
While Twomey tells you that she is principled and fighting the good fight on the side of the angels, take a look at her actual track record.
1.) In 2003, she testified against a proposed casino. In her testimony before the Biddeford City Council, she said: “In my Christmas village, there is no casino.” Seven years later, when she was the mayor and facing a budget pinch because of a new school, she suddenly flipped and quickly became a cheerleader for a another proposed casino in Biddeford.
Principled? Really?
2.) Twomey built her political career on the backs of criticizing the owners of the MERC waste-to-energy facility. In 2009, while seeking a second term as mayor, she held a press conference and was hugging the company’s owners in front of news cameras just two weeks before the election. She said they had come to terms on a solution.
Two weeks later, after securing her re-election bid, she once again reversed her position. Principled? Really?
3.) During Biddeford’s Democratic caucus in 2012, Twomey said the city needed a “real Democrat” in Augusta, failing to mention that she encouraged Democrat State Rep. Paulette Beaudoin to run for her former legislative seat.
But is she a viable candidate?
In the early 1990s, Twomey was removed by police from City Hall, following another hissy fit, when once again her rage trumped manners and decorum. As a state representative, she cried on the House floor when she did not get her way. She is a professional victim and the consummate hypocrite.
But remember this: she has a political base of support in Biddeford. She was elected to four consecutive terms in the Maine House of Representatives. During her last two terms, she beat her Republican challenger by a 2-1 margin. Okay, so…Biddeford rarely elects Republicans and the other candidate was not much of a candidate to begin with.
She made her political comeback in 2007 by winning the mayor’s seat, but it was hardly a mandate. It was a three-way race that included two city councilors: John McCurry and Ken Farley. A mere 38 percent of the city’s voters cast ballots. Twomey won with 1,742 votes. Farley was close behind with 1,573 votes and McCurry finished with 1,052 votes.
Essentially, McCurry and Farley split the moderate vote and let Twomey slide in to office with fewer than 2,000 votes.
Her biggest political victory came two years later, when she sought a second term as mayor. In a four way race, Twomey walked away with 4,100 votes, easily outpacing second-place candidate David Flood (2,640).
Twomey seemed unstoppable. She was a political force to be reckoned with.
The Fall From Grace
In the summer of 2011, I and some other Biddeford residents decided that our city needed a change, and we rallied around another former legislator, Alan Casavant, when he decided to seek the mayor’s seat.
Casavant had also served many years on the city council and was also elected to four consecutive terms in the Maine House of Representatives. But unlike Twomey, he never cried on the State House floor. He never screamed or shrieked when he did not get his way. He is professional, mild-mannered and responsive. He was just what Biddeford needed to clean up its tarnished image.
A lot of people told us we were nuts. They said Twomey could not be defeated. Ethan Strimling chided me for mounting a campaign against a seemingly invincible candidate. Many people in Biddeford, led by Twomey, were advocating for a casino during tough economic times. They saw no other way forward for the city. Casavant had his doubts.
By any measure, Casavant’s campaign was the proverbial long shot. But guess what happened?
Casavant won that election with more than 63 percent of the vote, beating Twomey, 4,165-2,504 with a turnout of 53 percent of voters. Casavant not only beat her, he surpassed even Twomey’s best election result in 2009.
Twomey was stunned and cried before television news cameras.
In 2012, she tried to claim back her state house seat from incumbent Paulette Beaudoin. She lost that primary challenge.
In 2013, she tried to make a comeback as the city’s mayor. Again, Casavant beat her: 2,377-1043.
And last year, she gave up on the mayor’s seat and instead sought one of two at-large seats on the city council. In that five way race, Twomey came in third (1,080), well behind second-place finisher Laura Seaver (1,790)
What does the future hold?
Over the last 18 years, Twomey holds a 6-4 election record. Not that shabby, really.
By contrast, (during the same time period) Casavant holds a 7-1 record.
It remains to be seen who else will run for Dutremble’s seat. It’s a tough job that demands incredible flexibility and a tremendous amount of time with virtually no way to rival a regular income. Twomey, retired, is in a perfect position for that job.
Speaking just for me, Twomey will be a tough candidate to beat. That said, someone sent me a design of her campaign sign this morning, This sign was allegedly designed by Perry Aberle. As a professional campaign consultant, I can tell you that this one of the most horrid and ineffective campaign signs I have ever seen.
But what do I know? I’m just the Darth Vader of Biddeford.
On Tuesday, the new Biddeford City Council voted 8-1 (Mike Ready) to reduce the public comment portion of its municipal officers’ meetings from five minutes to three minutes.
The reaction from some members of the public would make you think that the council had just approved a trade agreement with North Korea.
Now mind you, this particular portion of the council meeting (Public Addressing the Council) has existed since the mid 1990s, but lately it has become a free-for-all hodgepodge of bitching, whining and moaning about things that the mayor and council have no control over.
Despite the new rule, any member of the public is still able to comment on any action item before the council before the council begins discussion on that topic among its members.
The Public Addressing the Council concept was adopted as sort of a bonus round, allowing citizens to speak about items that are not on the council’s agenda.
Some cities and towns, including Maine’s largest cities of Portland and Bangor, also have a portion of their council meetings set aside for public commentary about non-agenda items. Other towns and cities throughout Maine do not have such an accommodation for the public.
The city of Biddeford is not restricting public speech. They could have easily done away with the Public Addressing the Council portion of the meeting. Instead, the city is working diligently to restore civility and decorum in the Council Chambers.
After all, as Shakespeare wrote: “Brevity is the soul of wit.”
Or consider this: President Abraham Lincoln delivered the 272-word Gettysburg Address in less than three minutes, so if you can’t get your point across in three minutes, then you need to learn how to focus.
If you have a problem with the city’s snowplow service, or if you think ambulance rates are too high you should be able to deliver that message succinctly, and three minutes is plenty of time.
If three minutes was enough time for Abraham Lincoln to deliver a historic, landmark address to the nation, then it’s an ample amount of time for raising your gripe with the city council.
NOTE: Four members of the council, including Michael Ready and Laura Seaver, voted in favor an amendment to the overall order that would have kept the time limit at five minutes That amendment, however, failed.
Disclosure: I am married to Biddeford City Councilor Laura Seaver, and I want her home in enough time to massage my feet and fetch my dinner before bedtime.
Another Halloween is upon us, and once again I am reminded how quickly the days go by.
I miss those days of watching the boys assemble their costumes. I miss escorting them through our neighborhood in Old Orchard Beach as they collected sacks full of candy. The skies were dark, and the air was crisp.
I miss the hay rides, and watching them climb narrow ladders to pick apples at the orchard.
It seems like so long ago, and yet it feels like yesterday.
Our boys are now young adults. There will be no costumes or patrolling the neighborhood for candy. In fact, both boys have their own plans tonight; and even Laura won’t be home this evening.
So, I will carry on a tradition that I have done for the past 10 years or so. I will move our fire pit to the front yard; I will load a cooler of beverages and snacks; and invite some friends to join me to hand out treats to the neighborhood kids.
I will pass out candy and treats and take photos of the little ghosts, goblins, princesses and witches that stop by in search of candy.
I will relish the time spent with friends, and the magic of the evening while sitting by a warm fire.
But still, I will think back to the days that seemed to fly by so quickly.
The point?
Cherish the moment that is right in front of you. Don’t fret the future, it will come regardless. Do not count the days in anticipation because they will slip through your fingers and be lost forever. You never get those days back.
Whatever you’re doing tonight, whatever you plans . . . cherish the moment and have a safe and happy Halloween.
I am so ready for this to be over. I have been counting the hours for the past two weeks.
As of this writing, we have 199 hours, four minutes and 54 seconds to go before the 2015 Biddeford Municipal Elections are over.
Nearly 200 hours before we know the results; nearly two hundred more hours of speculation about what will happen when the polls close.
We are down to the wire, with a little more than a week to go, and I can’t wait for it to be over.
Historically, fewer than 50 percent of Biddeford voters cast ballots in the municipal elections. The low point was two years ago when little more than 30 percent of registered voters opted to cast ballots.
The results of this year’s elections depend on how many people vote.
Just like the old days, slates of council and school committee members have lined up behind the two mayoral candidates. And this year, more than any other I can remember, has been especially vicious and vitriolic. You can blame the advent of social media if you want, but the sheer hatred and demagoguery goes well beyond the plethora of Facebook pages that have been created and then quickly deleted.
Most of these Facebook pages have been set up anonymously with the author unknown. When anyone attempts to post a contrary comment or different opinion, such posts are quickly deleted. These actions come from those who claim “transparency” and “accountability” is missing in local government. Yeah, right.
I have been covering Biddeford politics for nearly two decades, and I cannot remember a more nasty, vicious campaign cycle, replete with innuendo, rhetoric and half-truths, most of which is directed at Mayor Alan Casavant and some of which is directed at me.
Make no mistake: The driving force behind this campaign of hate and loathing is a man who has been working for several months to be a disruptor; a narcissistic malcontent with a penchant for slinging mud and hell-bent on destroying anyone who has the temerity to disagree with him.
The good news?
But there is some good news. Over the past few days, more and more community leaders (not elected officials) have been speaking up, calling out the anonymous coward whose sole purpose is to divide and spread hatred.
People like Joe LeBlond, a driving organizer of the city’s LaKermesse Festival; and Kenneth Farley, a past president of the Biddeford-Saco Rotary Club, have demonstrated courage and conviction in calling out this school-yard behavior, which is spurred on by a couple dozen of other malcontents.
I am increasingly optimistic that the voters of Biddeford will see through this cloud of smoke and mirrors. A vast majority of residents have had enough of the school-yard games.
A call for leadership
And I have more good news: the city’s two mayoral candidates (and most of the city council candidates) have stayed above the fray. Alan Casavant is hoping for a third term; and Daniel Parenteau is challenging him in the most professional manner. Parenteau has reached out to me privately to share his disgust and disdain for what some of his supporters have said and done to Casavant and to my family.
My only wish is that Parenteau would show real leadership and publicly admonish the tactics used by some of his supporters.
Where it gets personal
As I have previously detailed on these pages, the same narcissistic, juvenile prankster has gone after me and my family. He has threatened us with an “iron-clad” civil lawsuit; he has tried to get my wife fired from her job; he has made baseless, derogatory remarks about my son with fabricated tales of criminal activity. This man (and I use the term loosely) is a venomous leech with no moral compass or sense or self-control. This has been going for months. Read more here
You would think my family would retreat; that we would be intimidated or shy away from the public arena. Not quite.
My wife decided that the city needed other voices to step forward in this year’s election cycle. She asked my opinion about running for a seat on the city council; and I advised her against the idea.
“Why would you want to do that?” I asked. “We don’t need the aggravation. Serving on the council is an incredible time commitment. There is no money, no glory and it is a thankless job that only opens you to criticism. There are better uses for your time,” I reasoned.
But Laura was convinced, and called me later in the day to inform me that she had taken out nomination papers.
At that point, I was all in. I was going to support my wife’s decision 110 percent. I am a professional campaign consultant. I was suddenly in it to win it; and I watched my wife begin her campaign. She collected more signatures than she needed; she began raising money, designed her campaign signs and set up social media accounts. My advice was more often rebuked than accepted.
If there is one thing you should know about my wife, she is fiercely independent (and I would say stubborn). She began visiting various neighborhoods across the city, trekking alone and knocking on doors to meet residents and explain her campaign. She has been fearless and relentless.
It should be noted here that Laura’s four opponents (Marc Lessard, Doris McAuliffe, Joanne Twomey and Melissa Bednarowski) have run clean, honorable campaigns. There have been no smear tactics, just differences of opinion. The way it should be.
Two different perspectives
So, in 200 hours or so it will all be over. Laura is prepared and ready for a win or a loss. Regardless of the outcome, she is going to celebrate and breathe a sigh of relief. Although she is competitive, she is also relaxed and confident; comfortable in her own skin.
Me? Not so much. I am on pins and needles. I am fully vested in the outcome, but not just for Laura’s race: for all the races. I want to win. It’s part ego, and it’s part my competitive nature. I can admit that I don’t think I will handle a loss as graciously as Laura would in that event.
I want to win as a way to show the world that smear tactics and demagoguery don’t work.
I want to see Laura win because she is my wife. I want to see others win because they are my friends. I am tired of the innuendo, the hatred and the distortions by those (not most of the candidates) who have been invested in Biddeford’s future for less than 180 days.
I applaud Joe Leblond, Kenneth Farley and all the others who have taken a leadership position on social media and elsewhere.
Biddeford has many good leaders. It’s time for them to step up, too.
200 more hours; and I can’t wait for it to be over.
Running for elected office is not easy; not by a long shot.
But I am so proud of my wife; proud of her courage, her determination and her fiercely independent spirit.
It’s the two-week stretch, and no matter the outcome, I have enjoyed watching Laura grow and face her challenges head-on. She’ll make one hell of a city councilor.
They say if you stand in one place long enough, the entire world will pass you by.
That’s how if feels at the Fryeburg Fair, where every single night I run into someone I know or someone I used to know.
Such was the case last night when I almost literally bumped into Peter Scontras and his wife at the fair.
Mr. Scontras was my eighth-grade English teacher at Saco Middle School, and despite my often asinine behavior in his class, he had a profound effect on my life that lingers to this very day.
Whatever failing can be found in my written words, it is certainly not the fault of Mr. Scontras. It’s more than likely that I was not paying close enough attention when he was talking about gerunds, split infinitives and serial commas.
Today, Mr. Scontras is happily retired, and he owns and operates one of the most interesting businesses in this area: The Way Way Store on Rte. 112 in Saco. If you have not been to the Way-Way store, you are missing out on adventure, a magical journey back in time.
I was surprised that Mr. Scontras would remember me. I was even more surprised when he told me that he was a regular reader of this blog.
“You have a gift,” he said.
Words simply cannot describe how it felt to hear those words. (Example of a split infinitive).
A couple of nights ago, I posted on Facebook that I may have missed my calling. I speculated that I would enjoy teaching because I love interacting with kids at the fair.
Mr. Scontras replied to that post, reminding me that we are all teachers, and we all have lessons to share.
I come from a long line of teachers, and their students often tell me warm and fuzzy stories about the people I know as family.
My father was a teacher. He taught severely disabled students at the Cerebral Palsy Center. My grandfather was a teacher, teaching English and history at Biddeford High School. My grandmother was an elementary school teacher in Saco. Her former students invariably talk about Charlotte’s Web and E.B. White.
Today, my sister is a teacher, and she is married to a teacher. Thus, I am the proverbial black sheep in my family. I am not a teacher. But Mr. Scontras would argue that point. (Starting a sentence with a conjunction is a no-no, but is becoming common practice.)
Just the other day, one of my favorite teachers — Mrs. Loughlin (third-grade) — wrote on my Facebook page, telling me she was proud of me and my previous blog post. Her late husband, Tim Loughlin, was one of only two math teachers that I enjoyed. He had a special knack in connecting with students. Math was always tough for me, and his patience was limitless.
My late uncle, Leonard, was the director of student teaching at the University of Maine in Farmington.
He always told his students that you only need to two things to be a great teacher: 10 percent common sense, and 90 percent love of kids.
My uncle taught me more in one day than I learned during an entire year of high school. He did not teach me geometry, chemistry or how to memorize Whitman.
He taught me about hard work, honesty, compassion and generosity. Life lessons.
Sometimes I fail at those lessons, but the trick is to remain open to the learning process.
If you bump into a teacher, please do me a favor: say thank you.
My apologies in advance to Mr. Scontras for butchering the English language on a regular basis.
When my boys were younger, I drilled into their heads one constant message: Everything is a choice, and every choice comes with either consequences or rewards.
Some people will argue that not every thing is a choice: a flat tire, the death of a loved one or the loss of a job. While those things may be beyond your control, you do have a choice about how you respond to any of those situations; to any situation that arises in your life.
As poet William Earnest Henley wrote more than 100 years ago: “I am the master of my fate: I am the captain of my soul.”
Regular readers of this blog know that some very negative energy has tried to consume and overpower my family over the last six months.
My first and gut reaction is to fight this negativity; to engage in a war of words; to take this fight to the streets and to conquer it publicly.
Too often, I am a foot soldier, not a strategist. I run directly into battle with little thought of the consequences. Most people understand this instinct. In fact, many of my friends cheer me on as I wage each successive battle with this negativity, and I feel self-righteous — on the side of the angels.
The reputations of my wife and my children have been smeared in the public arena. Many friends have asked why my reaction has not been stronger.
A few days ago, this negative energy was revived after a three-week hiatus. Again, my family and I have become the focal point of contempt, rage and obsession. So yesterday, I began stockpiling my ammunition. I geared myself to once again respond to the negativity with brute force.
But last night I had an epiphany of sorts. I thought back to the lessons I taught my boys: I have a choice.
I can perpetuate this negative energy. I can feed this beast of darkness; or I can take pity on it. I can walk away. I can be better than the negativity. I can starve the negativity.
Sure, there is nobility in being a foot soldier, especially when defending your family. But shouldn’t I be putting more energy into supporting my family, to raising them up, rather than going to war?
War always comes with the consequence of casualties. Negativity begets negativity. Darkness begets darkness. There is absolutely no need for that in my life.
For whatever reason, my family and I have become the focal point of one man’s rage and obsession. So how am I going to respond?
I am going to pray for this man; I am going to beseech the God I believe in to help heal this man and his wounds. I am going to walk away and focus all my energy on my family, my job and my friends.
I cannot imagine the pain that this man must be feeling. I wonder if he is simply envious that I have so many people in my life who love and support me. I will pray that he can experience more of what I experience on a daily basis. I am going to forgive him.
I have a beautiful and loving wife. I have two amazing sons. I have many friends, a good job and a warm bed to sleep in tonight. I am more blessed than I should be.
For the better part of the last 20 years, I have been a semi-public figure in my community. There have always been people who have been somewhat offended by both my opinions and my actions. But never before have I experienced such visceral rage.
So while my response of prayer may seem counter-intuitive, it is the best way I know to move forward. It is the best way to put my focus back where it belongs.
You and I are going to die. It is not a matter of if, it is only a matter of when. What will be your legacy?
With every breath you take, you have a choice. No matter how far down the scale you may have fallen, you still have a choice. If today is the day that I draw my last breath, then I want to leave this world thankful for my blessings, not bitter about a man who must be lonely, frightened and confused.
Today is a good day. It is a day I will focus on the things that really matter.
Do you argue about politics on social media? Do you find yourself getting angry and often one step away from “unfriending” someone or blocking them?
And what happens when you argue about politics with someone right in front of you? Are you able to keep calm or do you feel your blood begin to boil?
I have an interesting mix of Facebook “friends,” and follow an eclectic mix of folks on Twitter.
Most of these people are relatively outspoken about their political views, and many of them are political junkies just like me. Hence, we are connected via social media. My social media contacts are pretty much equally divided between the two dominant political parties, but most of them could be described as political moderates.
Lately, however, I am seeing an increasing number of my friends becoming more extremist, whether they sit on the left or right side of the political aisle. I’m not a big fan of the word “extremist,” I prefer to describe these particular friends as passionate.
Passion, however, does not equal reason or even common sense. You can be passionate about something, but if you’re leading with your heart or your gut instead of your brain, you are bound to cross paths with someone who has a polar opposite point of view.
Witnessing those interactions is like watching a train wreck. Nothing good comes from it.
Passionate folks often decry the role of moderates. They say we lack convictions, courage and principles. I would counter that passionate people rarely pause to use their brains when trying to make a political point.
So there, I just lost the art of political persuasion.
Define winning
We live in a culture of winners and losers. We love to root for our teams, and politics has always been a blood-sport.
We have cliches such as “elections have consequences,” a modern adaptation of “to the victor go the spoils.”
But what is the point of winning a political argument? If you win, does it really help your candidate or cause?
What is more important: your PRIDE or your GREED?
Pride is defined as your way of doing things, your personal view of yourself and tactics. Greed is defined as your goals, the object of your desire.
So, first ask yourself: am I arguing to beat someone or am I arguing to help them better see my point?
Instead of bashing a candidate or cause, why not vest your energy into making a more compelling argument for your candidate or cause?
Why are you arguing? To thump your chest, to make a point or maybe to win someone over?
Last week, Speaker of the House John Boehner abruptly announced he would be leaving his post at the end of October. That announcement drew cheers from many of my friends on both sides of the aisle.
I don’t think Republicans understand fully how much Boehner helped his party. He was a fundraising machine and held together one of the most challenging caucuses in recent memory.
I also don’t think many of my friends on the left appreciate Boehner’s dedication to his country, his willingness to compromise and the leadership he offered in the House.
If it is to be all out war between the two political parties, then the casualties will be counted in losses for our nation.
So let’s all take a stab at better approach to arguing. Let’s persuade instead of attack.
Persuasion is much more difficult, but it is far more rewarding.
And it will likely help keep your blood pressure in check.
When I first met Laura, she was running for one of two seats on the Old Orchard Beach School Board. I was the editor of a local newspaper, and generally wrote endorsements for various candidates in five different communities.
In that particular race, I endorsed the incumbent, mistakenly thinking there was only one seat up for grabs.
I got an e-mail from Laura Kidman the next day. Part of what she wrote: “If I were a newspaper editor, I would get my facts straight. There are two open seats and three candidates.”
Ouch.
I was feeling defensive and returned her e-mail with a curt response, a half-hearted apology and also told her: “If I were going to write to the editor of a newspaper, I would be sure to spell the name of the newspaper correctly.”
This is how our relationship began.
Later in the day, I was complaining about the e-mail exchange to a reporter from another newspaper. That reporter empathized and added that Laura was really cute . . . and single. She offered to show me a campaign photo.
I was smitten, and I immediately returned to my office to write another e-mail to Laura. A response came into my inbox only moments later.
And that’s how it went for the next several days: a series of e-mails that became increasingly flirtatious, leading up to Election Day.
During our e-mail exchange, I made Laura an offer: If she won the election, I would actually bother to cover a meeting of the Old Orchard Beach School Board. But if she lost the election, I would buy her a cup of coffee.
We had still not met in person.
On Election Day, my gut felt as if it were filled with shards of broken glass. I could not concentrate. I was planning to go to Old Orchard Beach and check the polls, knowing that Laura would likely be there, greeting voters as they entered the high school.
I saw her standing against a wall with other candidates, and my heart sunk. I knew instantly that she was way out of my league.
I shook her hand briefly, and then moved along quickly, trying to look important . . . as if I cared about the other races in Old Orchard Beach, and then left quickly without saying goodbye.
I drove away from the high school that night, cursing myself for believing that I might actually have a chance with this woman.
Long story short: Laura lost that election, and e-mailed me the next day to remind me that I owed her a cup of coffee. She provided me three different phone numbers to contact her.
There were more e-mails, and then a first date, a second date and so on . . .
Bottom line, it’s very unlikely that we would be married today if Laura had won that election.
Sometimes a loss is a big win.
What goes around comes around
After being married only a few years, Laura won other elections; serving two terms on the Biddeford School Committee. And today, she is a candidate for the Biddeford City Council.
This is where it gets tricky. I often get paid to work on political campaigns, but what do I do when my wife is a candidate?
I struggle with wanting to run her campaign, and she pushes back, saying she is going to do things her own way.
Make no mistake, she appreciates my support and advice, but at the end of the day this particular campaign is hers, not mine.
I am personally vested in seeing her win, but I am also reminded that even a loss could be a good thing.
Laura really cares about the city of Biddeford. She has a lot of good ideas about how our city can move forward.
My job is to sit back, and let her do her job; to help her when she asks, but otherwise keep my opinions to myself. And if you know me, you know that is a tall order.
Laura’s campaign won’t really start until Tuesday, and there are seven weeks to go before Election Day.
It just strikes me that if I didn’t make that mistake during my newspaper days, my life would be completely different today.
So, there are two lessons here:
Mistakes can turn out really well, and losses can be very big wins.
LESSONS IN MEDIOCRITY | OUTLAW JOURNALIST 