Over the hills, under the moon - and off the beaten path

Yep - I know, it IS cheesy, but coming to Boston for a few days, I just had to look up Cheers, which I frequented for so many hours in the 80ties, where the bar appeared almost non-stop on TV sets around the world. Sitting for a pint (on Norm's seat) I found out the brutal truth: Actually, no one in there knows your name! A few hours later, I happened to find the real deal. Deep down in Southie - the notorious Irish-Catholic neighborhood in South Boston, which  the gangster 'Whitey' Bulger  ruled for decades - I found refuge from the cold wind inside the pub  Murphy's Law. In here, nobody wanted to have their photos taken (and you don't push your luck in Southie) - but it was a nice place to sit for a couple of hours - and actually, a few of them did indeed ask for my name 

My feeling just now is - emptiness! For the last couple of weeks, I have been working for the Bernie Sanders campaign leading up to the New Hampshire primary. The Bernie Brigade is known for its enthusiasm and vigor - and we, the scores of volunteers, have been  canvassing the neighborhoods in and around the snow-filled capital of Concord. Now - the election is over! Our candidate won. Last night we partied - and this morning all the candidates, the reporters, the satellite uplink trucks, and all my Bernie Bros have left town - bound for the upcoming primaries in Nevada, South Carolina, and beyond. As I walked the streets this morning, I felt like the only guy left and now I wait for my bus to Boston and the flight back home. I sit, thinking back on some fantastic days filled with laughter, camaraderie, hard work, and a lot of sludge and huge snowdrifts to cross before you reached  the doors to knock. When I volunteered for the Bernie Sanders campaign, it was...

Last night, I went to the huge rally, which Trump held to spite the Democrats on the evening of their Primary! I probably have to keep this a secret for my Bernie friends, as most of them would find attending a Trump rally as offensive as if you wanted to go dancing with the devil himself. I went, and - what can I say - is seeing believing? Can you believe how many red hats you can have standing in line on a bitterly cold night? How many you can cram into one hot stadium? You probably can, when you know how hard the recession hit New Hampshire in the 2010s. Today employment is much better and many blue-collar workers see Trump as their savior. He is the astute businessman personae they know from Fox News and from many seasons of reality TV. Can you understand how a person, who is rambling along for more than an hour, obviously speaking whatever rubbish comes into his head, can gather this much admiration? The roaring red hats might be too busy cheering to ac...

Many years ago, I saw a newsreel of presidential candidates walking the snow-filled streets around New Hampshire, greeting voters in diners, grocery stores, and barbershops. I was a child then, and the candidates may have been Nelson Rockefeller and Barry Goldwater, but I still remember deciding at that time, that I would one day experience the New Hampshire primary, which every four years is the first primary in the nation. 56 years later it has finally happened. I'm in Concord, the capital of New Hampshire, the candidates are here, the snow is everywhere and I'm not just a bystander to all the political debates - I'm thrown right into the action, as I'm here working as a volunteer in the Bernie Sanders campaign. In Concord, we're probably 20 or 30 activists, who walk the streets, knock on doors, distribute flyers, and try to persuade the voters. This has been a dream come true - and not only am I working for the Democrats in what probably will be...