The Raucus Caucuses

"We are NOT going to let this caucus divide this family!" my mom shouted in exasperation as our family sat around the dinner table discussing the election.

Unfortunately it was more than clear that our family had already been split down gender lines. The men for Obama. The women for Clinton. My father had been a delegate for Kucinich in '04, but this time around he said, "I met him at the last convention and I just wanted to say, 'Geez, Dennis, grow a few inches. Forget the presidency, he should just concentrate on giving a progressive voice to the Senate."

We were both behind Edwards until he dropped out, so for us there was no other option but Obama. My mom was "on the fence," which was a codeword for "I'm going for Hillary, so I don't want to hear anymore crap about it." My father, my older brother Bill and I had all resolved never to support a candidate who had even initially supported the Iraq War. In 2002 we had all watched in frustration as Hillary had voted to give Bush the power to invade Iraq. Five years ago, all three of us had protested against the Iraq War - my father in Washington, Bill in Sydney, Australia and myself in Taipei.. My mom had attended several; weekly peace vigils with a group from church on Duck Trap bridge, but she was much more forgiving of Hillary than the rest of us. Of course I did nothing for the argument when I blurted out, "Oh c'mon! Vote for real change, not sisterhood!" For weeks, friends of the family had been calling and inserting little Obama pitches at the end of their conversations with my mother, but she remained staunchly "undecided." This year, the Lincolnville Democratic caucus had another importance for our family because I was announcing my candidacy for the state legislature.

So on a snowy afternoon, my brother Bill and I jumped into his car armed with my Democratic nomination petitions, the Clean Elections campaign sheets, and a winning smile. As the car jumped, jolted and skidded over the chunks of asphalt, potholes, gaps, and frost heaves in the road on the way to Hope, we filmed the trip, constantly bringing up the fact that "When Andy O'Brien is elected, as God as my witness, we're gonna fix these &%@# roads!"

As any rural Maine resident can tell you, our infrastructure is going to hell. Lincolnville probably doesn't have the worst roads in this state by far, but we've been the loudest about it. My brother Ed described hitting a bump on Slaughterhouse Hill that made his car get so much air that sparks shot off the asphalt when it finally came back to earth. My friend Sandy told me that she lost her muffler somewhere on Route 52. About a week ago, a group of angry residents circulated a petition at all of the local general stores and via email which stated that we resolved not to pay anymore funds to the state until they agree to fix those &%@# roads. In the past couple of weeks signs have appeared on Routes 235 and 52 with messages like Wagon Trail Ahead!, BUMP (next 10 miles) and Clean Fill Wanted, Next Two Miles.

We were the first ones to arrive at the Hope town office/library/police station/animal control center (you gotta love rural Maine). A short time later more cars began pulling in and the caucus official showed up to open the door. I asked him how many people he expected and he said, "Gosh, I'd say at least twenty. It's going to be a big day!"

Earlier that day, I had called the caucus director in Morrill, a tiny outlying town in my district. I could hardly hear the man on the other end of the line because it was drowned out by the roar of what sounded like a crowd of thousands.

"Hello?"

"Hello?" the voice said.

"Hello?!"

"Just a second, let me turn down the TV."

He told me they were expecting an excellent turn-out because they had been calling registered Dems all week.

"Gosh, I'd say at least ten or fifteen!" he said proudly.

The Hope caucus leader told me that they had expected at least twenty caucus goers, but it wasn't long before the tiny library filled up with almost a hundred people. Everyone was in high spirits. My former high school English teacher put up several homemade Obama banners on the walls. I held up my "Andrew O'Brien for State Rep" sign and I got several signatures for my nomination and a few contributions. However, I soon realized that my name recognition was going to be my biggest asset.

"Oh! Wally and Diane's son! Wonderful! We sat on the school board together!"

"You're Diane's son? Well, I bought a rug from her."

"Oh, you're the youngest O'Brien? You've got such lovely parents. They were so helpful in Longley's campaign for state senate."

"I attend church with your folks."

Of course most of them were unfamiliar with the youngest, derelict O'Brien son.

"Aren't you the O'Brien who was valedictorian at the high school?"

"Ahh...no, that would be Bill, my older brother."

"You're the DHS case worker right?"

"Actually that's Ed, my other brother."

"You're the teacher who lived in Australia and have three beautiful little girls."

"Oh, that's Bill, my older brother."

"Didn't you go to Williams College?"

"That would be Bill, my older brother."

"That was your daughter who was christened at the church last week?"

"Actually, she's my niece. She's my brother Ed's daughter."

But right before the caucus began, the official gave me the chance to speak and introduce myself. As soon as I finished, a woman stood up in the audience.

"I'd also like to add that Andy's older brother Bill, who is with us today, holds the record for most buckets of blueberries raked in a single day! How many was it?"

Bill blushed and smiled. "228."

Everyone cheered and the checks came rolling in.

We had to hustle back to Lincolnville to make the caucus in time. The parking lot of Lincolnville School was packed, but we found a parking space at the end. The line of people stretched way out of the gymnasium and we caught up with the rest of the family as well as many friends and neighbors who had no idea I was running, so I filled them in. After the official business was settled, the party leader called me down and I gave a quick speech.

Then the caucus was underway and practically the entire crowd swept over to the Obama side like the mouth of Ducktrap River at low tide. A few Clintonites were left holding their own, including my mom and Tracee, my sister-in-law. As predicted, the O'Brien clan had parted along gender lines.

All and all is was a good time and the caucus turned out over 170 people, the one of the biggest our little town’s history. I met all kinds of people of all ages who were really supportive and wanted to help out with the campaign however they could, which is really exciting.

When we arrived home, my mom defiantly put a Hillary sign up in our window, in spite of my dad's protests.

"Hey! I'm an Obama delegate!" he shouted. "What are you doing?"

"Well, I'm a Clinton alternate," she said. "Why don't you go talk to your Obama friends and get your own sign?"

My dad went right to the computer and emailed our most rabidly pro-Obama friends. For the sake of this household, it'll be nice when this whole thing is over.