From 2009: The first thing you need to know is that all of the following is The Husband’s fault. A little over eight years ago he coerced me into running for mayor of our Tiny Town. I served one four-year term, and then I ran for another and spent the last year debating with myself about whether to run for a third term. In the end I decided I just didn’t want to commit to another four years. It isn’t that it takes that much time, but it is just another thing to think about, and one I never seem to want to think about when it is my responsibility to think about it.
So, I chose not to run. I did not file as a candidate to be placed on the primary ballot last winter. I did not run a write-in campaign. I encouraged others to run for mayor. On election day, there were no names listed on the ballot for mayor. I felt a bit sorry about that, but I blackened ovals thoughtfully for the other positions and felt secure that I had promised not to leave the council in the lurch — I would continue to serve as mayor awhile longer if they wanted to appoint me until they could find somebody else to take the position and appoint them.
The trouble is, after all my deliberation and deciding not to run and encouraging others and trying to work out a way I could gracefully exit, I got elected anyway. And remember, it is The Husband’s fault.
It turns out several of the Tiny Town’s citizens got a write-in vote from somebody. Three people got two write-in votes apiece. Guess who was one of them? Uh-huh. Guess the identity of one of my voters? You’re pretty smart. His fault. All the way. So, the three people who tied by getting two write-in votes apiece had to be placed in a drawing. Guess who won the drawing? Got it again. (Not that it would have mattered if I had lost the drawing — the other two people are already borough council members and would have declined the mayorship and it would have ended up coming down to me anyway. But still.)
So, in a drawn-out process of fair and free elections, I have actually been elected to a third term as mayor. Even though I didn’t run, and even though only two people voted for me, and even though one of them was my husband. There are lessons for me here on so many levels. Here is a sample:
–If I ever start to get the big head over holding political office, I need only remember that I have attained my lofty station on the strength of two votes, and, as we have already noted, one of them was from my husband.
–You may have the impression that our Tiny Town is not exactly a hotbed of political striving to get into office. You would be right. Give us a warm body to sign the ordinances and checks, please, and you can have the job.
–Funny that the three citizens who got the write-in votes are already serving the community politically in some way. I imagine the thought process of the voter. “Hmm, it looks like nobody is running for mayor. Well, we’ve got to have a mayor, don’t we? Whose name could I put down? Who helps out in town? I know! ________ does stuff like that. He/she’d be ok, I guess…”
Another four years. I know I could decline to take office, or I can resign whenever I decide I want to, but somehow just choosing not to run for a third term seemed less like abandoning my responsibilities than either of those two options. I have this sinking feeling that I will end up doing all this stuff for the whole four years, if God chooses to keep me alive and living here. Sigh. I have been sighing every time I think of this whole affair. And if The Husband is within range, I have been hitting him whenever I think of it, too. He protests, but I tell him I have the right. After all, it’s all his fault.