Live free or die.

I have visited the state of New Hampshire on many occasions, but only in the winter months of January and February, when it has been bitterly cold. Never before had I seen the thermometer in my rental car read zero degrees Fahrenheit. For those of you trying to work it out, that is minus 17 Centigrade! The reason I found myself in this beautiful state every four years was because this is where the race for the White House, to become President of the United States, begins in earnest with the first Primary election. A money spinner for the state as it guarantees that every media organisation and each Presidential hopeful would spend weeks here and criss-cross the state countless times to shake as many hands and kiss every baby as was humanly possible, in order to garner votes and get a head start in the race. There would be pancake flips on a Saturday morning; at one of these I saw a hapless candidate, Gary Bauer, toss his pancake high in the air and then take too many steps backwards in order to make the catch, only to disappear through the curtains off the back of the temporary stage. That ended his bid for the Presidency!

 

Other ludicrous events would see a hopeful candidate and the entire press core heading out to sea with the fishing fleet on a morning so cold all the nets were frozen to the decks. Polling day begins with further piece of pure theatre in a small hamlet called Dixville Notch. It has twelve registered voters, the poll opens at midnight and closes as soon as all have voted, which is usually only a couple of minutes later. The ballot box is opened, the votes counted and the first result in the race for the White house declared and broadcast across the nation! However New Hampshire is also where I literally bumped into and shook the hand of a man who I then followed all the way to his inauguration as President on another freezing cold day in Washington DC, his name, Barrack Obama.

Each state has a motto, which is stamped onto every vehicle licence plate. Some make bold claims like Florida – The Sunshine state, others are a bit lame like Missouri – The show me state. I like New Mexico’s – Land of Enchantment and our adopted state, Montana’s – Big Sky country, both of which give a sense of expectation. New Hampshire has opted for Live free or die, which I had regarded as audacious and bold. It seemed to espouse that desire to shake off order and do your own thing in a state that has no income or sales tax, but where nearly every journey by car involves paying a toll charge. The collection of this charge is now largely automated with a device stuck to the windscreen, but during my early visits it would involve stopping at the booth, winding down the window and throwing coins into a basket, then waiting for them to be counted by machine before getting the green light to proceed. I have now come to realise that the goal of living free or dying is unachievable; we do not have that choice. Recently a good friend of ours and New Hampshire resident sadly lost her mother and I found myself thinking about what any clergyman would be able to say at the funeral because this lady was a free spirit and had lived a fantastic life which had been an inspiration to many including Andrea and me when we were privileged to meet her briefly earlier this the year in Florida. She had lived free, but ultimately could not escape death.

I recall hearing a very poignant message at a funeral many years ago. The vicar had been driving to the chapel without any idea of what he should say at the service, when he pulled up at a junction with yellow cross hatching painted on the road, the sign read “Do not enter the box unless your exit is clear” That became the inspiration for a very moving homily.

It has been great to be back in New Hampshire and experience the state in the summer time. Driving among rolling, lush green hills and passing through picturesque villages of typical, brightly painted New England homes or strolling along the narrow streets of the pretty lakeside towns like Wolfboro – “The oldest summer resort in America”, packed with elegant shops and desirable residences. The carefully tended gardens bursting with flamboyant colourful blooms and countless verdant Hostas of all shapes and sizes. Maybe the motto should be Live free before you die?