The Coonridge Digest: His feet were cold

Greetings from the Ridge.
His feet were cold. Sandals didn’t provide much protection against the chill of an Iowa winter.
The long-haired young man stood in the back of the campaign rally crowd, prying himself up on his bare toes to get a look at the Presidential candidate. It was impossible. Every time he tried to get a look at a politician he was too late to get a spot on the front row. The young man’s work in the soup kitchens kept him busy most of the day. That, and his constant round of hospital visits.
But still he was attracted to the Presidential caucus. How could you avoid it? Every town and tree stump was plastered with placards, and the pictures of the candidates all but obliterated the Iowa snowscape. But what really captured the young man’s attention was the mention of his own name. I mean, how often does this happen? These men and women whose names and faces had dominated the national news for months were now standing in churches, civic centers, town halls, and shopping malls, all claiming to be his friend. It got his attention.
A former governor of Arkansas had made a pre-Christmas campaign ad claiming absolute and lifelong friendship with the young man. A senator from Illinois paid for an ad in which his entire family gathered around the family fireplace to remind the world that they knew him. The lady senator from New York was surprised when her old Sunday School teacher from Chicago turned up at a campaign rally to ask her about the senator’s relationship with the young man. A governor with the curious name of “Mitt” had called a press conference to explain his undying belief in the guy.
The young fellow finally gave in to the Iowa chill and stepped into the Caf‚ Des Moines to shake off the cold. It seemed he couldn’t escape the new-found friendships. An actor and ex-senator from Tennessee was holding forth in a corner booth, claiming to have known the young man his entire life and promising to stay close in the years to come.
The young man couldn’t even get to the counter of the coffee shop. Crowds everywhere. As he stepped out into the prairie cold again he put his hand into the pocket of his Salvation Army cast-off jacket, and pulled out a banana he’d picked up that morning at the soup kitchen. He chuckled sadly as he thought of something he’d once heard.. “By their fruits you shall know them.”
Although forgiving by nature, the young man felt somehow …how could he put it? Used? If these men and women who were claiming a life-long relationship with him were suddenly mentioning it as the caucuses drew closer, he began to feel more and more like the rich uncle who is visited by his relatives only when the credit card bills come due.
The candidates were approaching $10 million in their spending on TV and print ads while the young man had sold his old Dodge Neon just to keep the soup kitchen in crackers for the holiday season. Could these newly-found friends of his truly be of his mind? Could they be followers of his?
The young man was so consumed by these thoughts that he nearly stumbled over a homeless old man wrapped in a small huddle of cardboard boxes. He sat down with the unwashed relic and they both watched a TV set through a soundless appliance store window. The young man almost laughed. The campaign ads were reaching a new level as one candidate claimed to know the young man better than the other candidates while still another Presidential hopeful ran an ad doubting the closeness of the young man to one of the candidate’s rivals. It’s a contest, he thought. Who can know me best? Who’s known me the longest?
 Just then a campaign rally next door ended and the revelers poured onto the sidewalk, a few crushing the edges of the homeless man’s box with their hurried feet. The young man removed his scarf and put it around the old fellow’s whiskered neck. The bum  simply nodded a thank-you, and the young man moved on down the street. 
As the caucuses began the Senators from New York and Illinois boarded their chartered jets headed for New Hampshire. The Arkansas governor dined with a few close friends then hopped a quick flight to Little Rock. The former New York mayor slid into his limousine and said goodbye to Iowa for probably the last time, and the man named Mitt ran up the steps of his own private jet and he was off to states eastward. The young man in sandals was too busy to see them off. A line had already started to form at the soup kitchen and tonight he was in charge of washing spoons.
You ever in Coonridge, stop by. We may not answer the door, but you’ll enjoy the trip.