My own campaign trail

On my way home from Columbia today I passed a tour bus run by a company called "Faith Travel". The advertisement on the back said "Travel on Faith". I have no problem with faith. You might say I have faith in it, but when it comes to a bus line, I think you could throw in some scheduled maintenance, just in case.

This adventure began when I decided to run for a statewide judicial position. The first part of the process was screening in which each of the candidates was evaluated for judicial temperament, experience and ethics. After the candidates passed through screening, the tilt-a-whirl ride began. Let's go ahead and make that the blindfolded tilt-a-whirl ride. Because the position is voted on by the legislature, it was nothing but political. You might say I was learning the process. You might say I got my ass handed to me. The only person I really made an impression on was the man at the Cold Stone Creamery who mixed Heath Bars and pecans into my coffee ice cream every day. He knew what I was up to.

So was it really worth it? I wondered a lot. A few unrelated events conspired to let me know that perhaps it really was. When I was walking across the capitol campus, I passed an older man. He was homeless, but was hanging on to home. He had his bag with him, but probably stayed at the mission most nights. He asked how I was doing and I lied and said "fine thanks, but it's too cold". He said it was far too damp out. That hadn't occurred to me. Everyone comes from somewhere else and there are limits to what we can see.

Later, negotiating with myself over some burdensome task,like actually talking to someone, I told myself that as a reward, I could go to the art museum. Looking at a collection of antique snuff boxes, from China, each perfectly made of a different material like jade, agate, enamel or malachite, I was reminded of the good things about people. We create, we struggle to be better. We don't just wear black suits and trade votes. I may not belong in the black suit world, but I don't belong in any other, really.

So is this a good thing? It is. If I could choose to be a chosen person, I wouldn't. I like my past just the way it is, even with the detours. "They" say that you have to run more than once to win and I wonder, will I? I had faith going in, maybe too much. Next time I won't forget to check under the hood.

Greeetings From Our State Capitol

I'm back home and glad for it. I got the crazy idea to run for a judgeship. I can tell you there is a reason why I've been having this dream for years about running another marathon with no signs to tell you which way to run. Some simple illustrations might be of assistance.

This would be the way I felt before my trip.

This is me afterwards.

The moral of this story is yet to be determined. The only thing I know how to do is put on my running shoes and run.