Week 13 On the Campaign Trail (or What to Wear to Max Fish)

Last Thursday was a warm one if you’re walking Manchester Center, and the humidity did not help any. Still, I was up at 7 a.m., out the door by 7: 30 a.m., and knocking on doors by 8 a.m. That early in the morning, you find people walking their dogs, watering plants and tiding up before the full force of the sun makes any exertion exhausting.

Unlike the hills over looking Manchester Center dotted with large homes and spacious yards, the housing in the Center is much older, in many cases multi-family, and tightly packed together. Its residents are also older, and those who are younger are ethnically diverse.

I stopped and visited awhile with those who wanted to talk and simply said “Hi” to those focused on their morning chores. At 2 p.m. with the air shimmering above the pavement, I called it a day and traveled home to prepare for an early evening “Meet and Greet” for State Senator Steve Cassano at Max Fish, one of those expensive, fancy place-to-be-seen eateries that Glastonbury has several of. With a mind like that of most 63 year-old men, all goes well if the day’s events are linear in nature. Insert a diversion into that schedule and anything might happen.

So, diversions I had. Let’s start with one family member locking their keys at Hartford Hospital. Retrieved replacement set of keys and delivered them to the relief of that family member. Returned home to find son who had undergone several medical tests that day asking for a lift to Staples. Task undertaken and completed. Returned home to find Nellie, that’s the Retriever, holding my sneaker in her mouth and sitting patiently by the library door. Right, it’s time for Nellie and I to hoe the potatoes and check on the peppers and tomatoes at the bottom of my neighbor’s hay field. Yup, totally forgot about the Cassano “Meet and Greet” at that fancy eatery.

Off goes one set of clothes and on goes the outfit that my wife says defines me - a dark blue pocket T Shirt and work shorts – both from Tractor Supply Warehouse. Now these work shorts are a few years old, two sizes too large for my body, and until I altered them with a pair of scissors way too long for my way too short legs. Like most work pants these shorts are laundered when they need it; say once a week on Sunday. This being Thursday, well you get the idea.   

Off Nell and I go. Past the barn, through the horse manure that spilled from the spreader and onto the farm road that leads to the bottom of the hay field, and then the cell phone rang.

Charlie (That’s my campaign treasurer and jack-of-all-kinds): Where are you?

Me: Huh?

Charlie: Meet and Greet!

Me: Ohhhhh, I totally forgot!

Charlie: Get Down here!

Me: Charlie…

Charlie: No excuses! Get down here now!

Charlie is a man of few words and I have learned to listen to him when he speaks. So, Nellie and I hurried back to the house; into the car I got; and off to Max Fish I went. There, I hustled across the parking lot pulling up my work pants that had begun to droop and thankful that the horse manure covering my sneakers had an earthy odor in comparison to say that of chicken.

My timing was impeccable. Just as I stepped into the tented outdoor patio and Steve Cassano was thanking those in attendance for coming. Bobbie DiBella (Cassano’s Glastonbury Campaign Co-ordinator) raised his voice and cried out, “And here’s Candidate Gullotta!” As the crowd of Glastonbury and Manchester Democratic dignitaries turned to greet me in a loud voice I announced, “The Glastonbury Farming Contingent Has Arrived.”

You should have been there. Never before had I so captured an audience’s attention. All conversation ceased. The assembly was speechless. More than that, they were frozen for a moment in time - actually – make that several moments in time.

Not wanting to steal any more attention from Senator Cassano - this was his event - I stepped up to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine for medicinal purposes. I was a bit surprised that Charlie (campaign treasurer) who was standing before me walked off with two bottles of the stuff to a quiet corner of the room, but I figured he was probably considering the next “Meet and Greet” event I should be attending and needed some private time.

Much to my delight, members of the Manchester Democratic Party who had at the April nominating convention seemed a tad cold and distant were much more cordial and down right fun. Over that glass of wine, we discussed tomatoes, potatoes, and the simple joys of getting your hands into the soil with the companionship of a good dog beside you. Later that same evening as Nell and I retraced our steps across the yard, through the manure, down the dirt road, and ultimately to the lower garden, I worked the soil as Nell chased fleeting scents drifting across the recently mowed hay field.      

P.S.: This week’s photos are of Nell chasing smells and yours truly tending the garden just after the “Max Fish” experience. YES, that is how I appeared at the event (without the rake, of course). For Manchester and Glastonbury Patch readers new to this “Campaign Journal” visit “Tom Gullotta” on Facebook to catch up.