Years ago, my workmate spent his Saturday handing out flyers for the LNP State candidate in his suburb.
Trust me, his standing as a Labor stalwart copped a bit of a battering.
But, they were neighbours. Actually, good mates. Politically they were poles apart but their wives were friends, their kids knocked around with each other, they shared garden tools, chatted over the fence, had BBQ’s together and were one-eyed Bronco’s supporters.
Noting how stressed his neighbour was on polling day when several volunteers didn’t show up, he pitched in to help.
As you do.
Mateship 101 with a Gold Star and Koala stamp.
Later that day, he was spotted by another workmate who wandered over to enemy territory and took an LNP flyer from him, while dishing out a bit of good-natured ribbing. Afterwards, as our workmate drove off, he beeped and shouted, ‘Keating’s got this one mate!’
That’s how long ago it was.
One of the dyed in the wool LNP supporters wandered over and muttered, ‘Yeah, he’s definitely a commie, drives a red car.’
My workmate replied, ‘Yeah, everyone who drives a red Sigma is trying to bring down the state.’
We all laughed on Monday when he told us this. Thinking about it, I was driving a red Corolla at the time, and both of us have socialist leanings, so there might have been something in it? (I drive a silver car now, I have no idea where this places me on the political spectrum nowadays?)
A few years later, I was handing out flyers for Labor - the year Kim Beazley got toasted by John Howard - and became aware of some of the negative behaviour being dished out at the LNP folk nearby. So, I wandered over and stood near them and was able to diffuse a few of the rowdier elements.
As you do.
My kindness did not go unnoticed, and I will, hand on my heart, admit I was very grateful for the sandwiches and bottled water they gave me for the rest of my shift from the esky plastered in LNP stickers.
Although, I was even more grateful for the spare Bunnings umbrella the old girl from The Greens loaned me too.
We were a pretty helpful bunch of political enemies that day.
And years later, when I was wrangled in to help at a polling booth for a state election, I spent an amiable hour chatting with Liz Cunningham, the independent state member for Gladstone in the 1990’s, who was handing out flyers for the Nationals.
Voters, entering the carpark, watching the pair of us in mismatching red and blue t-shirts, giggling like a pair of mischievous schoolgirls, must have wondered if we’d suffered sunstroke.
Possibly. It is Queensland, and that’s definitely a thing.
Personally, I put it down to the sugar rush from the amazing fruit slice she was handing out. My only regret of the day was, I never did get the recipe from her.
I haven’t volunteered at a booth in years. But I’d like to think things haven’t changed too much on the ‘front lines’.
Hopefully, we haven’t all forgotten how to disagree politically while still pitching in to help look after each other’s pets, babysit kids, go fishing, mow each other’s footpaths or stuff a screaming socialist’s dial with sugary treats while handing out flyers from an opposing party.
Again, as you do.
Because even if they vote differently to us, they’re humans too. Fellow Australians, Queenslanders, workmates or neighbours.
Sometimes, even mates.
Yes, even the ones who barrack for the Broncos.
Cheers from Flynn.