COURTESY PHOTO Congressman Lee Zeldin.
Codger is not fond of summer road trips, especially if they entail Forking around, North or South, but an invitation to a Lee Zeldin “blitz rally” was just too enticing. It would be a chance to meet the shiny-faced young Republicans pictured on his campaign literature, debate prickly issues, maybe break bagels.
There was also a whiff of danger. Representative Zeldin is known to have an enemies list. If you are on it, you will be turned away at the door. Maybe even roughed-up by alt-right thugs. Codger never made former President Nixon’s enemies list — a regret. So a rejection wouldn’t be all that shameful.
The nearest of last Saturday’s five blitz rallies was on East Main Street in Riverhead at 10 a.m.
Codger, jacked, arrived early. The Zeldin storefront office, still bearing an old Sneaker Aquarium sign, was closed, no sign of life. The stores on either side, a Sweet Tart and a Peconic Bay Apparel, were also closed. Downtown Riverhead was dead.
Codger went for coffee, nothing else. Lee would surely have some breakfast snacks for the crowd.
Codger lurked until after 10, then tried the door again. Still locked. He called a main number and was told the door was most assuredly open. It wasn’t, but after some rattling a big, middle-aged white man with a shock of white hair, opened it warily. Reluctantly, it seemed, Codger was allowed inside.
The store was smallish, bare except for some tables and chairs. The only other person in the room, an older white man, was sitting down. Codger had the feeling he was intruding. Maybe they were waiting for instructions from such Zeldin fund-raising boosters as Steve Bannon or Sebastian Gorka. Maybe they were Russians plotting.
The younger man asked Codger if he was a registered Republican. Codger replied that he was an undecided voter from Shelter Island. At that, the man, who introduced himself as Paul, asked Codger if he had come for some Zeldin signs.
Codger decided this was no time to explain that Crone was the president of Shelter Island’s League of Women Voters, and thus their lawn was non-partisan.
“Actually,” said Codger, “I have some pressing concerns that aren’t addressed in Zeldin’s campaign literature. Health care, especially for the elderly. Environmental issues. Can we talk about that?”
Paul said, “You need to talk to people in the East End office over on West Main Street.”
“Are they there now?”
“No, it’s Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, 10 to 2, by appointment.”
“So what do you do here?”
“This is a campaign office. I run it. We make phone calls.”
“To voters. Don’t you know about the issues?”
Paul seemed to bridle at that. “I have a Ph.D.”
“In political science?”
“In criminal justice.”
On Codger’s way out, Paul gave him a card listing Zeldin’s “New Era of American Strength Agenda.”
Codger lurked on East Main Street for awhile, waiting for people to show up but no one did.
Were they the ones out demonstrating in front of “Park Avenue Perry” Gershon’s Setauket office? (Anti-Zeldinistas have done the same at the Congressman’s offices.)
Codger felt let down and a little foolish. All those emails from “Team Zeldin” promising a “blitz rally” against the Democratic candidate had led him to believe there would be some rousing political talk. Nothing.
The ride home, choked with Wine Country tourists, was endless. On the long ferry line in Greenport, Codger turned on his phone just as his very first email marked “Lee (personal)” dropped, asking for a donation and thanking him for joining the team.
You’re welcome.
What a wasted morning. Not even a bagel. What had he expected? Did he really think there would be a blitz, that he would learn something new, that a congressman best known for sponsoring legislation that would allow an out-of-state gun owner to carry a concealed weapon into a Perlman concert or St. Mary’s would have anything to offer?
So much noise with no purpose these days, thought Codger morosely, so much bad behavior with no consequences.
Codger felt too defeated even to honk when a red sedan with out-of-state plates bullied its way into the ferry line a few cars ahead of him. A ferry hand directing traffic waved and yelled, then apparently gave up.
We give up too quickly, thought Codger. Is this the new era of American strength?
When Codger reached the head of the boarding line he saw that a different ferry hand had pulled the red car off to one side. He waved Codger onto the boat. Codger lurked on the Shelter Island side until he was sure that the red car hadn’t made it onto the ferry. Blitz accomplished!
That night, Codger celebrated to excess at the Historical Society’s Black and White Ball.
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