The two of them are in their yard, backs to the street, watching

[struggle4progress]

a group of children play, when I get to the house. They're twenty or thirty years younger than me, enjoying the fall afternoon, with their arms around each other. I say, from the curb, I'm looking for the So-and-So's and they turn: yes, that's them

So I go through my brief routine on the election, hand them a flier about our Senate candidate, and ask if they intend to vote and if they intend to vote Democratic. Yes, they intend to vote. And no, they're sorry: "We don't want to pop your bubble, but we're independents," he says

I spontaneously like them. They're young and happy and seem to be nice people. I reflexively ignore the implication that I'm traveling through the world in a fragile shell and will be devastated by the sudden unexpected realization that not everyone shares my views. They don't have a clue who I am or what situations I've faced; they're still kids and still believe they see through people. And I have more important things to do right now than to be offended. So it isn't difficult for me to smile and wish them a lovely evening and move on

But he's right behind me as I walk down the sidewalk

"So, how's it going?" he asks

He's hungry for some authentic political feeling, but I can't oblige: at this point in the election cycle there are very few, friend or foe, with whom I'd share any detailed thoughts. So I gush about how much I enjoy walking around meeting new people and talking to them. Of course, that's not what he wants

"I mean, what kind of reaction are you getting?"

I'm automatically honest as I can be without telling him anything: Some people are friendly, some people are afraid to open the door, some people tell me to get off their property. Everybody's different

I smile and tip my head to him and amble down the street

There's not so much I could tell him, really. I guess I could say that it's good to meet your neighbors; that I really think it's OK if a brief conversation with political opponents ends on mutually gracious note; that every little housing tract has it's own distinctive civic Zen; that I'm getting better at sizing people up. I certainly wouldn't tell him my various goals for a contact or exactly what I think I'm up to or what I've really learned about the politics of my town