It’s early in the morning, glorious June, and I’m thinking about nothing, just looking at the small plots of sidewalk flowers, waiting for the bus to work. It was a nice start to the day. I hadn’t had to speak to anyone yet: a little Zen time.

“Because I’m not a Communist, that’s why!”

This is how my day starts.

I look around to see what gives, and spot a burly man dressed head to toe in fake camouflage gear, bucket hat decorated with a dozen pins of who-knows-what nature, storming away. This type of guy confuses me: I would never disrespect a veteran (though I may differ with his political views), but there are also a lot of nuts — not ex-soldiers — who seem to think that a useful way to spend their days is by spewing anger and rhetoric. I had no intention of finding out which type this man was, but I did see the object of his wrath — a very pleasant-looking person with a clipboard.

I’ve been known to cross the street to avoid someone with a cause, and don’t lie, so have you. But now I felt bad for this crusader. Plus, you know my curiosity got the better of me. I trotted over to Clipboard Guy.

“What was that about?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he smiled graciously.

Turns out all he needed was to get enough signatures to put some judges on the next ballot. I put pen to paper: I would have signed it whatever party they were from –because it ain’t Communism, sir, it’s a democracy.

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