Helen
More Farmers Market
It turns out Helen was a regular at the Farmer's Market. She would say hello and we would chat about the price of baguettes, romaine lettuce and a little about politics. One time we ran into each other at Prager Bros. and after some small talk Helen said she didn't see me at Blair's party.
Jody mentioned Blair once, though I don't remember the context. She was not on Jody's list of people I should meet. I looked her up on Facebook at that time and saw she lived in a big house above Agua Hedionda Lagoon, evident from posts of panoramic pictures of her lagoon view. Her profile referenced herself jokingly as a 'Domestic Diva.' She didn't seem political and was not a volunteer who worked on Let the People Vote or No on Measure A projects.
Blair and I would have some interesting phone conversations later in my campaign, by which time she had become Cody's fundraiser. But at that moment, I wasn't even aware of the party, let alone invited. I accurately concluded the house party was celebrating the No on Measure A victory. I later asked Helen what Blair's connection was to NCEC. Helen told me Blair donated $15,000 to the organization. After all, it was her lagoon.
Yet, Helen did not realize I was not invited to the party, which seemed to create an awkward moment. I just smiled and shrugged.
"You should have been there, even Keith Blackburn showed up," enthused Helen, ignoring any apparent awkwardness.
Keith Blackburn, the long-time incumbent on the Carlsbad City Council, had voted at every opportunity to support Caruso's project. Now at a party celebrating its defeat?
"Wow, that seems odd."
"Yes, he was in full uniform driving a black and white patrol car and was hassling party people standing outside."
"Really? What happened?"
"I didn't see it myself, I was inside the whole time, but everyone was upset afterward. It was bad."
I stood silently, pondering how Helen could have not gotten the message that I was on the NCEC blacklist. Helen broke my distracted gaze.
"By the way, I laughed out loud at your April Fool's Day post. That people took it seriously made it even better," she said with a smirk.
April Fool
My April Fool’s Day post on Facebook was the first major blunder of my campaign. Late in the evening before that April Fool’s Day, I wrote a satirical post on Facebook saying I had learned from a reliable source that Rick Caruso had secretly closed a deal to buy the Sheraton Carlsbad Resort & Spa. The Sheraton is within walking distance of Agua Hedionda Lagoon. For good measure, I added that Caruso had also submitted an offer to Carlsbad’s City Attorney to take a 99-year lease on Carlsbad’s money-losing municipal golf course adjacent to the Sheraton resort. The Crossings at Carlsbad was the most expensive municipal golf course ever built. No one has ever determined the final cost of the golf course, but it was well over $50 million.
I can’t remember whether I was stoned when I wrote the post, but I thought it was hilarious. I still think it was a great April Fool’s joke. It was so preposterous I was certain everyone would get the joke. After all, Caruso's project had failed because of Measure A. In defeat, he said he wouldn’t pursue such a project. Facebook denizens of Carlsbad would all laugh at a clever April Fool’s joke. Wouldn’t we?
That April Fool’s Day, I learned that local politics is humorless. I was stunned that morning by numerous posts made by furious Carlsbad citizens, threatening to organize again to prevent Caruso from carrying out this putative April Fool’s scheme. Sometime in the late morning, Cody posted a comment asking whether or not it was an April Fool’s Joke. I decided to “like” Cody’s comment and then delete the post.
I doubt that the post had any noticeable effect on the election. But a battle line between my campaign and Cody’s had been drawn.
The prank was said by Cody's followers to be proof that I did not deserve anyone’s vote for City Council. None other than Angry Woman #2 sent me a scathing rant over Facebook Messenger and demanded that I apologize for it. I told her officiously that her offence was regrettable: Of course, I couldn't have cared less. During the height of the campaign, Angry Woman #2 and Angry Woman #1 teamed up to troll my campaign Facebook page. They would plant comments and replies between themselves about how poorly I did at a previous night's candidate forum, that some post of mine was stupid, and similarly negative things.
But the great thing about the April Fool's post was that it made at least one person laugh out loud. I love making people laugh unexpectedly because laughing is involuntary, uncontrolled, and spontaneous. Making someone laugh is like having magical power over them.
Helen's comment made an impression on me, but I didn't have any interest in Helen other than, let's say, morbid curiosity about her relationship with Cody. I was suspicious of her unlikely friendliness to me. Over time, though, I reluctantly acknowledged Helen’s hard work during the Let the People Vote signature gathering. She always returned filled signature forms, and I imagine she collected as many signatures as anyone, certainly more than me. She had a wonderful sense of humor, too. I looked her up on Facebook and checked out all her pictures. There were no selfies with Cody.
That Laugh
My next encounter with Helen was a candidate meet-and-greet at the large home of active Democrats. The meet-and-greet was organized primarily for Cody but was technically a Democratic Party event so I was invited. This meant that most of the people attending were Cody supporters.
About 20 minutes into the meeting, it was announced that Cody would be late but was on her way. I was asked to speak and answer questions ahead of her arrival. I was happy with my remarks, but I didn’t seem to move the audience much. There was no applause, but some smiled and nodded as I spoke.
Helen and Cody arrived together to the excitement of guests. Some even applauded as they entered the Great Room where we were waiting.
Cody and Helen were dressed like they had come from a more formal event. Both usually dressed casually. But Helen had ditched her plaid flannel for a light satin long-sleeved and cuffed V-neck top and white slacks. It was the first time I had seen Helen wear makeup—it hid her light freckles and a large but faint freckle in the middle of her forehead which you would only notice if you had studied her face carefully. Her longish hair was slicked back in a sophisticated style that highlighted the sharp features of her face instead of her daily "Jon and Kate Plus 8" styling. She was not hiding her attractiveness.
After Cody’s speech, people began to mingle, gathering in small groups to chat. Jody, who did not attend, had admonished me to circulate and introduce myself to guests. Most split into a group surrounding Cody or a smaller one around Helen. Others made a beeline for the free grub.
I positioned myself somewhere in the middle, but closer to Cody, hoping someone might engage me, ask about something I said, or just strike up a conversation. I didn’t even get acknowledgment from people brushing past me to jostle closer to Cody or lurch toward the cold Costco pizza.
I, for one, was following Jody’s sage advice:
“Never eat during an event—it’s gross. And don’t drink anything but water. Someone’s always ready to take a photo of you holding a beer bottle or a wine glass, and you’ll always look a little inebriated.”
I was listening to Cody and suddenly heard a woman laughing out loud behind me. Her laughter lasted a few seconds and was the loudest sound in the room. I turned to see it was Helen.
I missed the joke, but her laughter drew me to her group. I moved a few steps closer to her group but still a distance from Helen. I didn’t say anything during the conversation.
Though new to the local scene, Helen drew attention without demanding it. She answered questions about her past. She recently arrived in the area and said she had graduated from University of North Carolina as an undergraduate in political science and had an MBA from Columbia. She had just moved from Washington DC where she had worked in international finance for the World Bank, spending a couple of years overseas. She was a very accomplished woman.
Helen also said that she had “followed a fellow worker” to San Diego with whom she had a relationship. The relationship didn’t work out, but she stayed in the area. I thought that an odd disclosure, made in a slightly self-conscious way. Surely that fellow worker was not Cody, but Jody did tell me Cody lived in DC for a while.
Helen had found work as a part-time associate professor at the University of San Diego.
As the groups broke up, signaling the end of the event, I caught Helen’s eye. She smiled and gave me a small wave. I smiled and returned the gesture. It felt transactional. That laugh, though.
The Breakup
We saw each other every few weeks at the Farmers Market. Normally we would just say hello or talk for a brief time. I am not one to tarry while shopping, but I am always polite about excusing myself. One time Helen signaled she wanted to continue the conversation, in the way people do when they say, "OK, I'll let you go, but ..." She said a few uninteresting things as if winding up to tell me something.
"Cody and I are no longer a couple."
"My goodness," I said, after a long pause to figure out how to respond.
"Am I happy to hear that, or...?" I added after a pause.
I was hoping a moment of forced levity would allow me to exit the conversation.
Helen chuckled, "Oh, it's okay, our parting was amicable. We still work together on the campaign and text every day and stuff like that."
I looked around at some of the vegetable stands plotting my next purchase, hoping she would pick up on that and let me go. It worked. We parted with a mutual smile and nod.
Hey Lady
The next time I saw Helen was at the annual Pride at the Beach street fair in downtown Oceanside.
I was hunting for coffee and found a vendor with a few umbrella-covered tables. As I stirred in sugar at the sticky condiment station, I noticed Helen sitting alone at a large table, wrestling with her small dog. The leash had wrapped itself around both her chair and the table leg, and she hadn’t yet won. She was facing away from me.
In a moment of pure inspiration, I shouted loud enough for everyone to hear, “Hey lady! Get that dog under control — it’s gonna hurt someone!”
Helen froze, mid-tangle. She turned slowly, wearing the expression of a full-on Karen fixin' to have a word with the manager.
But the moment she recognized me, we both broke into that kind of shoulder-bouncing, helpless laughter you don’t plan on.
She swatted a hand at me like she was shooing a fly and turned back to the leash, still laughing.
I walked over and pulled out a chair across from her. "Hey lady,” I said, “I don’t think I need your permission to sit here.”
We laughed again.
She explained she was trying to untangle the dog because she was already late to meet someone.
“Oh yeah,” I said, "you're the one who has a campaign to run."
She finally freed herself and the dog from the table and said, “Talk later.”
Then she was gone.
Can I Pet That Dawg
Not long after Helen's throwdown with her dog, we both were attending an afternoon fundraising event for Wally Binghamton on the outdoor patio of a restaurant in Oceanside. I was standing listening to some speaker and as Helen passed me on her way to the bar, she smiled and poked me a little on my arm. I didn't even bother to turn and return the smile but noted to say hello before I left.
As the event waned, I saw Helen conversing with an older couple I didn't know, and I went over. She introduced me and said she met the couple at Cody's sunrise meeting at Agua Hedionda Lagoon months ago. They were discussing the Lake Calavera hiking trails. Helen asked me if I ever walked any of them. I told her that I had participated in a recent volunteer cleanup project there but hadn't walked any of the trails.
Helen said she would like to discuss the election sometime and suggested I join her when she walked her dog on one of the trails. She added that Wally had accompanied her on her morning walks a few times recently. I thought Helen was signaling me that as single male, a morning dog walk with her would not be unusual and would not be considered a date. I agreed but concluded the invitation was polite, with little likelihood of taking place. I forgot about it.