The Candidate and the Crawfish Boil

The backstory to this is that in the West Lafayette school community, there are tensions among members of the school board. These tensions have risen at election time over the past few years. One of the school board members decided to turn up the temperature by going to a Facebook group with a history of low grade malevolence and posting the names of the people who signed the petitions for the current slate of candidates.

Going further, she posted copies of the petition documents that contain the names, addresses, dates of birth, and signatures of the people signing those documents. It’s not clear what purpose this additional information served that was not already served by listing the names alone (if that was even necessary.) I’m not running but some people I like are. I signed the documents as did my kids and several neighbors.

I offered more serious commentary at last night’s school board meeting because this was a doxing of my kids and my neighbors and I felt I had to make a statement of some sort, not that I hold much hope that it will ultimately do much good. Some of that statement is reflected in Dave Bangert’s account of the meeting. But, shortly after it happened, I wrote this lighter response — if she thought this information was important to the public, surely a fuller account was called for – in the name of transparency.

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Reader, come with me on a journey. A journey into the signing of a school board candidacy petition. This may sound trivial and … well, it is. But a school board member, our Community Voice really, has taken to the public, bravely posting names, addresses and, for a brief while, birth dates of children and neighbors. So here we are. The seemingly trivial must, despite its appearances, be fraught with signs and portents for the discerning reader. I will, therefore, tell my tale.

My journey begins in a sleepy little neighborhood in the Middle West where, at first glance, it seems that neighbors are just neighbors. But, as long-time readers know, the Community Voice has revealed that being a neighbor is a sign. Or a portent. Look, if I’m completely honest, I don’t know the difference between the two.

It was a beautiful June day. You know the kind: sunny, low of 60 in the morning, high of 81 in the afternoon, light wind out of the southwest, 50% humidity. I went for a run. Or maybe a “run.” I am not the strength (or speed) which, in old days, moved heaven and earth. But that which I am, I am. One equal temper of heroic hearts; made weak by time and fate, but strong in will to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. What I’m saying is that I took a three mile run, and it was slow.

As I’m trundling along like a slug in a salt mine, I get a text. An amazing text. A text that says, “Doug! We’re having a crawfish boil.” Do you know how many texts like that I’ve received in my life? I’m not a young man, but the answer is zero. Zero crawfish boil invites. Remember that part earlier about the Middle West?

Why was I getting this text now? Well, a neighbor who has not always lived in the Middle West was bringing a little home here to Indiana. And, as is known, neighbors in University Farm have sworn a blood oath to one another. Or maybe it was one of the shadowy machinations of the unsleeping operatives of The PAC ™ and its allies in the Pentavirate. Or maybe the people who live near me are friendly and thought I might enjoy participating in the festivities. Who’s to say?

Crawfish boil? What has this to do with the very important issue of school board candidate paperwork? Patience, Reader. Patience.

Returning home, I announced the news of a nearby crawfish boil to the family. Some may be surprised – I certainly was — that the prospect of standing around a table outside, cracking open bug-like crustaceans and slurping them out of their shells did not meet with universal acclaim. I was prepared to go alone.

Even if I was alone for a time, when my daughter – whose name and personal information has been bravely revealed by our Community Voice – got home, she would join me. There is not a sea creature in ocean, river, stream, or lake that’s so weird looking or off-putting that she wouldn’t give it a go. Also, my neighbors are pretty cool. So hanging out with them, alone or in a group, is not a chore. I resolved to go.

“But, Doug? Did you go to the crab boil empty handed? Because that would be bad. Not Midwestern at all.” No, Reader, I did not. I brought beer. And not just any beer. Miller High Life. The Champagne of Beers! Reader, perhaps you have forgotten about High Life. Sure, you remember Miller Lite and possibly even Miller Genuine Draft. Not to mention Budweiser and, before Kid Rock shot it with a gun for having a rainbow, Bud Light.

In this day and age, you probably are even familiar with the craft beers –the Brokerage New Kids’ on the Hop, the Peoples’ IPA formerly known as Mound Builder. Maybe even Mexican offerings like Corona, Dos Equis, or Tecate. If you’ve traveled to Portugal, you’re certainly familiar with Sagres and Super Bock.

Carlsberg, demonstrating a Danish discomfort with hyperbole and boasting, bills itself as *Probably* the best lager in the world. Kona Brewing has a fine variety of beers, “liquid Aloha,” as they say. But for some reason, I can never find their Fire Rock Pale Ale anymore. And … oh, right, Miller High Life. It’s the beer that you have mostly forgotten, and when you have some, you think, “this is not *too* bad. It’s o.k.!”

That was exactly the reaction I got when I brought the beer to the party. People were weirdly excited about it. It’s not that they thought it was a top tier beer. It’s not. It’s just that it doesn’t cost too much, it doesn’t taste terrible, and it’s a decent thing to drink on a hot summer day.

So that’s how I happened to find myself sitting out on the driveway in a lawn chair, gorged on crawfish, drinking cheap beer with a group of people when friend, neighbor, and outstanding school board member, Amy Austin happened to walk by on her way down the street to get a signature for her candidate petition. I eagerly volunteered to sign the petition and announced to the group, “this is Amy! She’s running for school board so you don’t have to, and she’s great at the job! You should vote for her and sign her petition!” Or words to that effect. I had had more than one Champagne of Beers by that point.

And, Reader, as our Community Voice has already revealed, several of us *did* put our names on that petition. Will this information help the community? Almost certainly not. But, signs and portents. Signs and portents.

The End.