Talking to Strangers, Hard Rainstorms, and 'Very Light Hassling'

I campaigned for president in New Hampshire and Massachusetts with a radical idea: talking to one another

I spent the 4th of July weekend badgering strangers, getting drenched in the rain and being hassled by authorities — and I feel fine.

Okay, it wasn’t exactly the Five-O, it was a local town official in Hanover, NH. And she didn’t really “hassle,” but rather politely inform us we couldn’t conduct campaign events on the town green.

Still, I did spot a police officer standing a discreet distance behind the official and she did make us move. So maybe we can call this very light hassling?

Not exactly the 1968 Democratic convention in Chicago, but this was New Hampshire and I’m running as a Republican for 2028.

I was there for my first post-kickoff campaign event. Originally, my trip east was just going to be my annual summer pilgrimage back to Massachusetts — home of the Pilgrims and myself — to see family and friends.

Then it occurred to me that I’d be within driving distance of New Hampshire, home of the historic first-in-the-nation primary, on the actual 4th of July.

It seemed clear that some old-fashioned presidential campaigning was in order.

Candidate Casual

You’ve seen the images a thousand times: the candidate in dress pants with his sleeves rolled up, shaking hands with people in shorts and T-shirts. A bit of a mismatch, but not too much. I was going to wear a suit, but a friend with a sense of these things shot that down and sent me a photo of George Bush at a barbecue in dress slacks and a blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Candidate casual,” he said. I nodded and bought a shirt.

The plan was to go to the town green just after the 4th of July parade, set up two chairs and a sign that said, “Let’s Talk,” and see where it led. The seat was open to all comers. Except there weren’t any. People seemed to be giving us a wide berth. So I started walking up to them — and they started walking away. I got it. I would, too. “I’ve become the people I avoid outside the grocery store,” I thought.

So we decided to prime the pump with a conversation with Mike B., the very first person to volunteer on our website, who had driven up from NYC to help — and showed up wearing a T-shirt with my image on it.

“There’s something I like about this young fellow, Smithers. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“He’s wearing a T-shirt with your photo on it, sir.”

“No, no, that can’t be it. I think he reminds me of a young...”

Mike enthusiastically agreed to be my first conversation — and then immediately started firing fastballs. His third question was about Israel and Gaza, for crying out loud. Okay, fine. I have to have a position on this, and my core principles — respect for equal human dignity, the rule of law and a realistic view of human nature — apply here, too. So I did my best to apply them.

Next I spoke with a local doctor. He asked hard questions about how I would deal with existing medical school debt if we switched to a system of universal health care. I had no idea what he was talking about. I mean, I understood what he was saying, but I had not given this particular question any thought. Isn’t a vague commitment to some kind of universal health care enough, folks? The other guys are actively destroying the country.

Do I really need to drill down into the details? Apparently so. Okay, fine. Lesson learned. This is what I came here for, in addition to it being an easy drive.

Rain on the Fallback Plan

Then we got thrown off the town green. But our New Hampshire lead had thought of everything and pre-selected a fallback location in front of the town hall. We set up our chairs and signs and even wrangled a passerby to talk to me — and then it began to rain.

But the passerby — a woman visiting from North Carolina, as it turned out — was a good sport and agreed to keep talking, so we moved under a tree and had a great conversation about polarization and the state of the nation in the summer rain.

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You can watch our conversation in the video below.

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Then the rain let up and two health care professionals agreed to talk — and then the rain returned. But they were true New Englanders and didn’t give it a second thought and shared their frustration with the misallocation of resources — with hospital floors going empty while people are kicked out.

We spoke to a few more people and then, as the post-parade crowd was all but gone, decided to call it a day. I thanked our amazing volunteers — shaking every hand, at the suggestion of the watchful Mike B. — and my wife and I headed south for a week of beach walks and lobster rolls.

The Unintentional Town Hall

“I invited some people to come over Friday for a cookout,” my sister-in-law said that evening. Sure, I said, thinking nothing of it.

Two days later, while visiting friends on Long Island, I opened my email to find a PDF inviting me to something called the Liberty Town Hall, featuring presidential candidate Dan Greaney discussing his vision for America’s future. I emailed my sister-in-law to ask what the Liberty Town Hall was.

“It’s you,” she said.

It turned out she had mentioned my campaign to her friends and interest had grown beyond the cookout level.

So now I was hosting a town hall.

Well, okay. Nobody said running for president was all sunsets and lobster rolls.

A couple days later I found myself standing next to the fireplace at the 200-year-old Paquachuk Inn in Westport, MA, outlining my vision for America in front of about a dozen people.

As in New Hampshire, questions focused on our health care system, polarization and, not unreasonably, my qualifications for office. I was surprised to hear one audience member defend the value of my candidacy in response to another audience member’s skepticism. Maybe I’m biased, but I thought the defender had the better of the exchange.

So what did I take away from it all? That campaigning is fun. I like meeting and talking to people. That the voters want to talk about policy more than politics — and about health care more than any other policy. That the connection I see between the restoration of the rule of law and our ability to enact the policies voters want does not loom as large in voters’ thoughts as more direct frustration with actual policies. Good to know, really. Getting out there and meeting We the People wasn’t just fun, it was a useful reality check.

After all, my mission is an America For All — not just for me.

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EPILOGUE

And then the reviews started coming in.

The next morning, a writer friend with a bent for pugnacious writing and politics dropped in for coffee and to tell me that I needed “more snap in my punch.”

To point me in the right direction, he generously gave me an anthology of American communist writing from the early 20th century. I think the idea is that I could learn a thing or two from the two-fisted intellectual populists of that era who helped lay the foundation for the reforming efforts of the Roosevelts. He’s probably right. I’m not going to be joining the party anytime soon, but I’ll take pointers wherever I can find them. The fundamentals never go out of style in writing, life or boxing.

Then my brother and his wife stopped by. My brother provided my favorite review when he looked up from a long, thoughtful silence and said:

“I don’t see how you don’t win. Nobody wants a Democratic president, and nobody wants the right-wing craziness. You’re all they got.”

My sister-in-law was more restrained. She neither praised nor criticized, but started talking about people she could introduce me to. Given her starting point, as a lifelong Democratic activist, that was high praise indeed.

Then we set off for the airport, stopping on the way to visit my oldest friend of all. He hadn’t been at either the New Hampshire or Westport events, but he had watched the first episode of my podcast.

He was unsparing on both substance and content. Unsparing is an understatement, really. Mean would be more accurate, really. Cruel, even.

He must have used the word “cringe” a dozen times. It wasn’t fun, but it was honest.

And for him to think something is worth bothering to belittle is high praise, really. So I’ll take his letting me have it in the mocking, contemptuous-but-helpful spirit it was intended.

That’s what friends are for.

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OFFICE HOURS W/ DAN GREANEY

Let’s Talk during my first “Office Hours” community gathering live online July 23 at 4pm PST. Get the open meeting link and RSVP on my campaign website at dangreaneyusa.com. #forall