The Political Sign

As I dashed across the on-ramp of a busy Kansas highway, my brain shouted at me, “And now you are putting your life in jeopardy for this campaign!”  Oh, the things you do for the man you love.

I had been nagging Glen to get at least a few of his political signs up around Wichita. I spent hours perfecting them for free for a very picky political customer (aka my husband), and it was really going to tick me off if my artwork just sat in our basement, unviewed by the public. Of course, I had romantacized the task of putting up signs as a grand family adventure. It started out that way. The older girls were happy to help. They loved choosing locations, hiking to their designated local, and planting the sign they were so proudly carrying into the ground. Then, the sun began to set.  Dusk arrived and with it the loss of light. The mommy side of me worried about the safety of my girls after dark so I decided they had to stay in the car. That left the sign planting all to me. Here is where the romantic family adventure died. Flip flops filled with burrs which I proceeded to fold underneath me and sit on (Ouch!), jaunts across busy streets with oncoming traffic that wouldn’t be expecting a crazed woman to be dashing in front of them, and tall grasses that hid who-knows-what kind of sleeping critters were just a few of my challenges. But the strong survive!  Some signs are up, and I lived to campaign another day.

Of course, the candidate was made well aware of the physical, mental, and painful sacrifices I had made for him. Again, all without compensation. I may need to renegotiate my contract.


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