How I met a wonderful friend and became a Mondale delegate

The passing of Walter Mondale reminded me that most of you have probably never heard about my venture into politics soon after I moved to Southwest Virginia.  

Part I:  The Caucus

At the time, I was living in rural Scott County in a rented farmhouse on a gravel road on Purchase Ridge.  This was before Virginia started having presidential primaries. I read in the local newspaper that the Democrats were going to be caucusing at the court house, so I decided to go to see how the caucus system worked.

When I arrived, we were divided up into groups by precinct.  I didn't know anyone, so introduced myself to a friendly older woman named Irene.  It turned out that Irene was the mother of one of my favorite students, Hattie.  She was delighted to meet me, as Hattie really liked me, too.  The purpose of the caucus was to choose delegates for the state Democratic convention, which was to be in Norfolk, 440 miles away on the opposite side of the state.  I had declared for Mondale, as had most of my precinct. We were supposed to vote on the delegates, but no one wanted to go. You had to pay your own way, and these were mostly farmers who really couldn't afford the time and money.  When it became apparent that there were no volunteers, I piped up that I would go.  The group suddenly became silent, and everyone looked at me, like in that old commercial.  "Who are YOU?" Immediately, Irene came to my rescue and vouched for me, so I was elected to be one of the alternate delegates. I said that I would drive if someone else wanted to be the other alternate and go with me.  Irene volunteered.

Part II:  Irene

Irene lived in a small house under the railroad trestle that went over the Clinch River.   Railroad trestle above Irene's house   To get to her house, you had to park on the side of the river and walk over a scary swinging bridge.  Picture of Swinging bridge in Clinchport  She lived on her late husband's railroad pension and what she made cleaning people's houses.  The thought of being able to go to Norfolk excited her intensely.  Every couple of days, I would get a phone call from her telling about a party dress she had gotten at a yard sale. When I told her we were going to a convention, not a party, she disagreed.  She said, "Rhoda, those people PAR TEE!!"  She apparently knew folks who had been to Democratic conventions before.  What did I know?

Part III:  The convention

The convention was a several day marathon of speeches and votes.  Like a good scout, I stayed on the floor and participated, often until the wee hours of the morning.  Irene, on the other hand, found all the hospitality suites. She was a good Baptist, so she didn't drink, but she did PAR TEE!  The only time she showed up on the floor of the convention was for the votes or the celebrations, where people marched around with signs and yelled. She had a fantastic time.  I was exhausted.

Part IV:  Going Home

As we were heading out of town to go home, we passed a sign that said the beaches were one way and Richmond the other way.  At that moment, Irene said, "I've never seen the ocean."  Of course, I immediately turned to go to the beach.  She was so thrilled.  We walked on the beach and ate lunch in a restaurant on piers.  She bought souvenirs for her grandchildren.  It was a wonderful day with my new friend, and I was so happy that I had made it possible.

Part V: Aftermath

When I moved to Kingsport, I sort of lost track of Irene.  Occasionally, she would call me wanting me to go dancing at a country music bar with her.  She said it was a good place to meet men.  I demurred.  I probably should have gone.  But I just couldn't PAR TEE like Irene.  She is gone now, as is Hattie.  Both wonderful people who made my life much better because I knew them.