Random Acts of Sass

This exact time, three years ago, I had just made a huge decision: I was going to accept an internship with this guy:

So, over the break, I did some things that were pretty mundane – made phone calls, ran errands around the campaign headquarters – neatly located in my very own hometown.

Then, Janurary rolled around and I signed up to take a trip, to New Hampshire. How does one normally get to New Hampshire from North Carolina? I would suppose that they fly, but I, intrepid intern, was going to drive. And not by myself. In a van, with a bunch of people I’d never met before. So, first, I had to catch a ride to Asheville.

The campaign arranged for a volunteer, a lovely, elderly man named Joe, to pick me up at my little college. I would ride with him to Asheville where we would all meet up with the rest of the group to caravan up to New Hampshire. So, Joe came to pick me up, in his newsboy cap and his white cadillac, and insisted upon carrying my bags to his car, and off we went! I found out that Joe had been quite involved in politics in North Carolina, working for several governors. He even knew my college president – he’d worked with her in the Lt. Governor’s campaign back in the early 80s! Joe knew everyone in the state of Noth Carolina, I think, from Bill Friday to Andy Griffith.

It was charming!

We arrived in Ashville, where the campaign had arranged that I would stay with a woman who worked for the governor and was a major supporter of John Edwards — her brother was his law partner, and she had often cooked them all spaghetti dinners with they were poor law students in Chapel Hill. The family was lovely – they lived in a precious little historical house in an affluent neighborhood. They called each other “Mom” and “Dad” and insisted upon treating me to dinner, because I was their guest.

We all left the next day, in two fifteen passenger vans. Up we all headed, an odd conglomeration of people. There was dear Joe, several other interns, a couple of middle aged people, one high school student, and some others I’m afraid to say I can’t remember. And of course, there was the residential crackpot.

We started the trek up north. We made a pitstop in Kingston, Tennessee, where someone jokingly threatened to lynch me. We stopped in Arlington, Virginia, where I and another intern stayed with a couple who were extraordinary – she had written for the Washington Post and he had been a staffer for Jimmy Carter. Jimmy Freakin’ Carter, people! We got to meet Elizabeth Edwards, at a subway station, where the first thing she said to us was, “All these layers sure make it hard to use the bathroom!” We picked up a (hot) young press secretary who was giving up his vacation to work for John Edwards. We drove and drove and drove, and we got there.

We went to Town Hall meetings and made phone calls and canvassed and ate huge spaghetti dinners with an exhausted staff, and I met the smartest, most exciting group of people I’ve ever known. It was amazing. Game on to the tenth degree. I learned so much, fell in love with a certain young press secretary, and most of all, became a true believer.

There was a charisma and inspiration and strength to John Edwards that I never could have imagined. Nothing convinced me of that more than seeing the people who were gathering to work for him, traipsing around New Hampshire in record level cold temperatures, knocking on doors, making phone calls, handing out literature.

When I went back to North Carolina, when that campaign ended, I was changed.

And now, it’s time again.

Game on. John Edwards ‘08.