Caucus Carb-loading

This morning I attended my first political caucus, or any kind of caucus for that matter, and I foolishly ate breakfast beforehand, thinking I'd be starving if the whole thing really did last four hours, which is what we'd heard. So I was surprised when I arrived at the Greeley Middle School where the event was held for our district and found a cornucopia of food.  Being a newbie, I mistakenly wandered into the Yarmouth room even though I live in Freeport, and found a virtual sea of huge boxes of Dunkin' Donuts, more than you'd find in any Dunkin' Donuts shop. There was every variety of donut and many, many boxes of donut holes. People were wolfing them down like they hadn't eaten in weeks. There was also coffee, of course, and bottles of water.  Despite usually frowning on such empty calories I opted for a plain "old-fashioned" (my go-to donut) and coffee, and once again learned that Dunkin' Donuts donuts are not very good and their coffee is worse.

Fortunately, the lady who was running our town's caucus ferried us to her classroom, where there was a considerable spread laid out including bananas, grapes, three kinds of mini-muffins (blueberry, chocolate-chip bran and corn), several varieties of homemade fruit breads, coffee, teas, orange juice and bottled water. I peeked into the Falmouth room later on and saw those same pink and white Dunkin' Donuts boxes, so I'd vote for Freeport in terms of best food choices. We all descended upon these goodies like locusts as the town's business was reported and delegates to the state convention were chosen. The combustion of caffeine and carbohydrates igniting feelings of civic duty, Mitch signed on as a delegate and I agreed to be an Election Day worker come November. (Apparently I will get paid $60 for my services.)

As for the political process, the general mood was nothing like the raucous rodeos we see on TV. People quietly found seats on bleachers inside the school gymnasium, everyone still munching on those damn donuts. (It seemed like wherever you looked, there was a donut hanging out of someone's mouth.) Each of the four remaining Republican presidential candidates had a bridge table stacked with brochures, bumper stickers and signs. Some local politician running for something or other and seeking signatures on a petition had put out a tray of miniature York Peppermint Patties that were going fast. The table for Donald Trump was completely bare, and I learned that all his materials had been grabbed early on. As the guy in charge of the Trump table put it, "it was a feeding frenzy."(He was certainly right about that.)

Eventually, a representative approached the podium and gave a boring rather than impassioned speech on behalf of each candidate. (In all fairness, the speech made by a 23-year-old college senior touting John Kasich came closest to fervor.) Then we all filed into the lunchroom, dropped our ballots into a cardboard box and exited out a back door into the parking lot. All in all I'd say the event offered too many empty calories and not enough red meat.