I drove through New Hampshire, homeward bound, trying to beat a snow storm that I hoped would hold off long enough to let me pass, desiring to listen to the primary results with my family. Thousands of candidates’ lawn signs lined the roads of New Hampshire, easy to post in the snow. Every town had people holding up signs for their candidates. An elderly couple struggled to post a huge Dean sign, emblazoned, “Hope Not Fear”.
Lies make the soul sick. I had gone to New Hampshire not only to convince the Democratic candidates that speaking for the self-employed would help enable them to defeat G. W. Bush, but to exorcise demons. To take back a piece of my heart, I had to fight for my country.
I thought back to how my father had ended his labor law classes at the University of Virginia and Harvard Law Schools. “Ninety percent of the practice of law is grueling and boring. Every now and then, however, you can strike a blow for freedom. And that enables you to walk a little taller, and hold your head a little higher.”
I had not struck a blow for freedom. But at least one Presidential candidate had introduced myself and 20 million other self-employed Americans into the political discussion. And that made me feel pretty good.