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By CALEB MOORE
To look at a house from the outside, you see siding, roof and windows. But this is only part of what makes up the house.
Look inside and you find furniture, painted walls and flooring.
A campaign is a lot like a house.
From the outside, you only see certain aspects: signs, TV ads, endless mailers. But when you’re in it — when you’re really involved in a campaign — it’s so much more.
That’s how it is for me. I am a candidate’s kid.
Four years ago, my dad, Tim Moore, decided to run for state representative.
We have since run and won three campaigns. But as I said earlier, for me these campaigns weren't just a kickoff and victory rally. My involvement was almost ever-present and can be summarized as the ABCs of being a politician’s son: Accusations, busyness and completion.
Imagine it. It’s days before the election, you’ve had a long day and just want to kick back and watch some TV. But as you hit the power button on your new HDTV, you’re greeted by a saddening sight: political attack ads.
Annoying isn’t it?
Try living on the receiving end of that negativity.
In my father's elections, our family has been attacked for various reasons.
This year during a debate, our family was questioned for choosing to home school. Before that, an anonymous blogger accused me of cheating in an essay contest, saying my dad likely used his power to help me win. It isn’t true, but it wears on you.
It's especially hurtful knowing those accusations are being voiced to an entire county.
Unfortunately, taking false accusations has been and will continue to be a part of my life as a politician's son.
Then, there’s the work — the busyness — of helping with the campaign.
The life of a high school student is demanding enough with school, homework, friends, sports and even jobs. On top of that, for me, every two years, fall is campaign season.
From Sept. 1 to the first Tuesday of November, my family campaigns nonstop. I’ve put out signs, made calls to ask for help and written personal cards to hand out.
Saturday is no longer a day off to hang out with friends or relax. Instead I spend time walking door to door, talking about Dad and asking for votes.
This year, I was in charge of Students for Moore. Not only did I devote Saturdays to campaigning, but I asked other students to sacrifice their time to campaign also. For about two hours every day I contacted volunteers and organized them to a common goal.
After two months of nonstop door-knocking, phone-calling and sign-placing, everyone in our family was worn down. Dad had walked miles every day and still worked nights at his primary job. Mom had managed to head up our sign effort while still teaching my sisters and me each morning. And for the last three weeks, I worked every night and all day on Saturdays to organize more than 50 kids to knock on thousands of doors.
Ultimately, what we did had no say in whether Dad won or lost the election; it was up to the voters on Election Day, a day that, for me, was awkwardly normal.
I woke up and did school just like a regular Tuesday.
But as election results began to pour in from precincts all over Hardin County, our family and many of the people who had helped us over the last few months waited eagerly in our family room. Then Dad announced the results: We won. The moments that followed made all our efforts seem significant.
Completing a campaign is the most rewarding part of being the son of a politician. Whether we had won or lost, it’s a good feeling knowing we ran a hard race and never stopped giving it our best.
Not everyone gets to be a candidate’s kid. Sure, there are lows, such as the accusations and busyness, but the taste of completion is sweet.
Should you talk your parents into running for office? Maybe. Maybe not.
But as Saint Augustine once said, “The words printed here are concepts. You must go through the experiences.”
Caleb Moore is a junior who is home schooled.