Debate seen from afar
Political campaigns are great fun for the spectator. Whether or not they qualify as bloodsport is another issue, for another time. If there is no election in your local area, seek out the content from other jurisdictions. Live vicariously.
Tonight, over a platter of comfort food (spaghetti with real sauce, lovingly prepared by another family member), I was fortunate enough to stumble across a delayed broadcast of the PEI debate. From local cable to CPAC, and before the “big day”; how sweet is that? I’ve been following the campaign. I knew all the names, and most of the faces. Only the voices remained a mystery. The issues were local, if health care, employment and education count. The PNP debacle. Not so much. One of the leaders actually used the word debacle, over and over again.
In an earlier time in history, I’d be a qualified voter. I remember my father and grandmother making the trek during inclement weather, from NS to PEI. All to cast a vote as landowners. That’s me; only the rules have changed, to protect the innocent. I no longer have a legal right to make my mark, but I’m spiritually there.
Based on the debate, I’m saved from making a terrible choice. No matter what way you size things up, a gaggle of geese is noisy. At no point did I feel that the “best and brightest of a generation” were on that platform. Oh, Islanders! The next few years will be long and arduous.
Yes, I’m older. I lost my rose-coloured glasses during a move, years ago. Now I take politics, and the involved politicians, as an necessary pain in my nether regions.
