Being Radowskied

The names have been changed to protect my patchy memory.

I like politics.

No big surprise, eh?

But I've never done too much, because I am at heart a shy person, and it's not a game easily played by the shy.  And my organizational skills  sometimes have gaps, particularly in communicating by phone and soliciting other people's help.

I did run for Junior Class President.  I loved putting up posters, and giving speeches, passing out buttons.  As long as I had a definite spiel, I did okay.

I was running against one of the most popular boys in the school.  He was all A's AND athletic.  The other athletic guys followed his lead.

One time, in a hallway near the gym, this guy, we'll call him Wilbur Jones, saw me by myself, with my campaign materials.  He was with his athletic buddies.  He asked me, "Why are you running?"  I gave him a long, spirited answer, filled with facts and and detailed solutions,  I was at my rhetorical best.

When I was finished, he just looked at me, and said. "Strait, you're crazy!"  All his buddies yelped their agreement, thumping Wilbur heartily on the back.  They left me standing there, by myself, drained, alone, feeling like I had made an utter fool of myself.

But "the girls who actually ran things" - the intelligent, popular girls, the cheerleaders and civic leaders had a different plan.  for whatever reason they told me confidentially that they had decided to back me.  To this day, I have no idea why.  Maybe they thought Wilbur was arrogant, maybe they liked some of my plans.  Whatever the reasoning, I stunned everybody and won.

My administration was what you would expect.  Lofty ambitions that either got ignored or done by somebody else.  I gradually figured out that the "girls who ran things" were indeed the girls that ran things (I'm not trying to be sexist - they were all females - just the way it was).   They would listen to me a bit, and then go off and do what they wanted.

Our first fundraiser was a dance, and I had had some experiences with dances, as the chief fundraiser and organizer for the Student Council's Sadie Hawkins Dance.  If I may say so, I was a damn fine Student Council Rep, often being the leader in promoting student's rights (even with my Dad as School Principal).  But I wanted help in organizing this one.  I enlisted the aide of, we'll call her Veronica Radowski, and she proved to be a big help.  She was so reliable, that I delegated more and more stuff to her, allowing me to do other things.

She did do a great job.  And afterwards, she let everybody know it.  She let everybody know that it was really HER that did the dance, and I was virtually no help at all.  This became such a well known meme, that she ran for Senior Class President.

She didn't win, but neither did I.  Because, in part, I didn't run. I felt that I had not done the job that I promised to do, and therefore, I bowed out of running.  The person that won was a joke candidate, someone elected as a lark.  That person wound up in a lot of trouble, for embezzling a large part of our Senior fundraiser.

I should have run, if nothing else but to help divide up the looney vote.

As I grew older, and became involved in different civic projects, I have always feared being "Radowskied" again.  That I will delegate too much and then a person or persons will start dissing me to others.  But I do have frail organizational skills, and I do need help.  It's a dilemma.

It's certainly not a matter of giving credit.  I freely and gratefully acknowledge anybody who helps me with a project, in the most effluent and positive language possible.  It's the behind the scenes bad-mouthing that bothers me.

The one thing that depresses me most from that time was that the Student Council, which I had been elected to for three years in a row,  I ran and lost my Senior year.  Fellow students couldn't distinguish between my job as Junior President and my position as Student Council Representative.

And that was sad.  Because I was a damn fine Student Council Rep.

So it goes.