Yeah, I know…it’s been a while.

Since mid-June, my rants and ramblings here at ‘The Quill’ have gone very, very quiet. My posts this summer were few and far between, and in some cases, absent altogether.

Yet at long last, the beloved ‘Quill’ hath returned to defend the downtrodden and give voice to the countless masses who liberal oppression hath robbed! The noble ‘Quill,’ like a brandished sword cutting valiantly through the dense fog of leftist nonsense, hath returned triumphantly to serve as a beacon of light in an otherwise dark world, ever flowing with the ink of wisdom that serves as the lifeblood of the Conservative cause!

Or so I’d like to believe…

This has been, without a doubt, the most surprisingly amazing summer of my life. Allow me to tell my story…

Simply put, I was fretting the approach of summer. While I was eagerly anticipating a break from the classroom, I was not looking forward to June, July, and August. For months, I had dreaded the summer furlough, along with the accompanying absence of a paycheck.

As you may recall from some of my more “forthright” posts since last November, following the birth of our son and the mountain of medical bills that had stripped our savings to the bone, Jenny and I struggled a great deal financially last summer…and that was BEFORE the brunt of the recession hit…

We spent the majority of the past school year playing “catch up,” and doing our damnedest to pay back both Peter and Paul. It wasn’t easy. And when our tax returns arrived in April, we rejoiced at the fact that we could finally put to rest the last few remaining late payments that were still lingering like some great financial albatross about our neck. We were back on track…not ahead…just back on track.

But then, reality set in. It was already mid-spring and the final paychecks from our school system would hit our accounts on the last day of May. You never quite realize just how “long” the summer can truly be until you are devoid of a paycheck between the last business day in May, and its counterpart in August.

Last summer we busted our tails working whatever part-time jobs we could find. Work was still somewhat abundant back then, especially in regard to the seasonal variety. Times were tight for us, but not unbearable. In the end, we made it. Through that experience (and the deep recession that dug its heels in last fall), we witnessed firsthand just how “easy” we had actually had it, as we watched many around us go through much more trying times than we could have ever imagined. At least we still had jobs…so we learned to be thankful.

Yet this summer, things were different. Jobs, of any kind, were hard to find. Of the few places that actually were hiring, most were looking for more than a two month commitment. Things were grim.

The little work that we did find this summer was of the “odd job” variety. I washed windows, moved furniture, drove a truck, and did whatever else I could do to make a little dough. Jenny attended a few paid teaching workshops. Every little bit helped…but “every little bit” didn’t do nearly enough to cover two vacant salaries. But then again, we made it. And in light of it all, compared to countless others, we still had it fairly easy.

Looking back over a full year now, my memories of the summer of 2008 are quite dark. In addition to money woes, I dipped into a state of depression. I was convinced that our inability to pay and “keep up” after the flood of medical bills and baby expenses was a reflection of my credibility as a husband and father. I felt inept. I felt broken. I felt worthless. Getting back on track made me feel better, and I vowed never to return to the black abyss of despair ever again.

Yet, the summer of 2009 was just a few short weeks away…

Not again.

As you are probably aware, I helped kick-start a Conservative political group here in Charlotte back in June. Upon being elected the group’s first President, I suddenly found myself quite busy. Organizing meetings, drafting agendas, and putting together lessons on America’s proud history, her founders, and her most essential documents left me very little time to feel sorry for myself and our financial plight. I learned very quickly that staying busy often keeps one’s mind free from wandering down a dark and lonely path to self-pity…or worse. You don’t have time to feel bad…you don’t have time to think about things that you can’t control.

I swapped hours between what little work I could find and organizing CAUTION (“Common Americans United To Inspire OUR Nation”). Our merry band of “common folks” worked hard to launch a small group of seven concerned Americans, into an organization that in just two months had an active roster of close to 50, and an average weekly attendance of close to 30. And while CAUTION has never been about “numbers,” the growth does give credence to the fact that our group accomplished “something” quite remarkable this summer. It is a testimony to what a group of people, united behind a common cause, can do when they begin putting their “words” into “action.” Two of our members were invited to speak at the Charlotte Tea Party on July 4^th, and Tea Party organizer Matthew Ridenhour commissioned our group to take an active role in participating in the day’s activities. We clearly left our mark.

Then, at CAUTION’s second meeting, I met Tariq Scott Bokhari.

Pronounced “Tark,” Tariq and I established a good friendship from the very beginning. We seemed to be cut from the same cloth in regard to our ideals and principles, and we both shared similar visions in regard to leadership and politics.

When Tariq confided in me that he was considering running for Charlotte City Council, I was immediately a very enthusiastic supporter and I endorsed his decision. What came next is still hard for me to grasp, but it will be seared into my memory for the rest of my life.

“Would you be willing to help out with my campaign team?” Tariq asked.

“Certainly,” I responded, trying to conceal my excitement. “How can I help?”

“Would you be willing to lead the team…as my Campaign Manager?” he shot back.

I nearly dropped the phone. “Absolutely,” I said, sounding confident, yet trying to cover my shock at precisely the same time.

What? Was he desperate? Was he insane? Was he both?

There I was, the struggling teacher who was looking for any part-time gig I could find in order to buy groceries and keep our lights on this summer. The one who had very limited campaign experience, including none during the past 10 years. The rambling blogger and political antagonist for the Conservative cause…

…and yet, he asked. And I, quite humbly, accepted.

(To be continued…)