His View: A fighter ready for his last round

Into each age of a man’s life, there intrude unique reality checks. For me, 30 meant the completion of formal education and getting serious about the sort of productive work I would want to fill my days with. Then, at 40, came fatherhood and a new, wonderful reality check.

What may be one of my final reality checks came about shortly after my last birthday. With 76 trips around the sun under my belt, I was ready to give up a lot of what had juiced my life: skin diving, surfing and skiing were all part of my past. I even made plans for my last backpack trip into the Cascades later this year. I knew my “career” in collector cars and parts was nearing an end.

Then came a phone call from a dear friend who informed me his employers, the Kanter brothers, had finally retired and he, as the Packard Industries core buyer, was instructed to put an immediate halt to all future purchases. My last, large wholesale account was no more. Like the aging Kanters of New Jersey, I was retired.

My aching joints breathed a sigh of relief and I looked forward to even more fun and adventures with Katherine and our erstwhile poochie pal, Brigid.

And yet, there remained one lingering passion which had driven me from childhood forward: the study, teaching and practice of politics. This new reality check would not be made for me like my farewell to old cars. When and where I bid adieu to active campaigning would be my choice alone.

I told my children in 2008 that, as an Obama field operative, his campaign would be my swan song. Then came 2016 and Bernie Sanders stole my heart. After his amazing run for the White House and the soul of America was scuttled by the establishment within the Democratic Party, I told Caitlin and Milo: “I’m finished.”

I should’ve known better. A good and true friend whom I had met in 2016 planned to run for Pullman City Council. As at least 80% of politics, for me, is personal, I had no choice but to volunteer to manage Eric Fejeran’s campaign.

Now, with two wins and one loss in this century, I got to thinking that batting over .650 ain’t bad. But, just as I considered packing it all in — I remembered all the young idealists I worked with and how I was awed not only by their passionate embrace of social justice, but also by their lack of understanding on how to translate that commitment into actual policy outcomes. Not by sacrificing principle — which those like myself have never done — but by learning how the system works and how to access its levers.

After a lifetime of involvement, I couldn’t walk away without leaving a roadmap. It was then that Katherine came upon the idea of hosting workshops and detailing the contours and do’s and don’ts of grassroots organizing. If I could help a new generation of would-be activists find ways of bringing their dreams into reality, I could finally put behind me the last obsession and travel more, garden more, meet with friends and family more — all with a contented smile on my face.

With this in mind, I am holding the introductory workshop Monday at Neill Public Library conference room in Pullman. If there is sufficient interest, there will be subsequent workshops where we will examine grassroots campaigns of which I’ve been involved. Some I designed, some merely participated in.

Topics will range from defending a small community’s health clinic from a grasping HMO, to beating back the world’s largest waste hauler attempt to dump Seattle’s garbage just across the Whitman County line. Future sessions will look at Earth First’s successful battle against the U.S. Forest Service and timber companies to keep Cove Mallard unspoiled wilderness.

There will also be studies of community mobilizing in electoral campaigns, contrasting Obama and Sanders’ runs and local city races.

Each of these workshops is free and open to all. Sessions will begin at 5:30 p.m. and close at 6:45 p.m.

McGehee, a lifelong activist, settled here in 1973 and lives in Palouse with his wife, Katherine. His work life has varied from bartender to university instructor to wrecking yard owner.