Just like the crew who re-introduce egg nog each year, when it’s seasonally advantageous, or those who re-release the easily melted chocolate treat named Ice Cubes, there has to be a gang of language people who remove certain words and expressions from cold storage for elections.
     A couple of candidate-speak expressions taken off the shelves during the political processes are “You can’t change horses in midstream” and “Stay the course.”

     Some of these political terms come through the magic of the metaphor, a figure of speech which every high school student has drilled into him and yet swears he understands. I like to define a metaphor as an “impossible comparison.” The expression, “Don’t switch horses in mid-stream” is one such metaphor. Though it specifies equines, it refers to people, with the underlying meaning that it’s unwise not to allow someone to complete his or her term.
     Of course, we understand that people are not horses, although one particular prom date . . . But that’s a topic for another column.
     “Stay the course,” an archaic expression used only by centenarians, goes back to about 1916; it’s a metaphoric expression referring to a horse running an entire race. Strange that this expression would arise, in that horse races today aren’t exactly of the medley-relay variety, in which one horse runs a certain distance, to be relieved by a second one. Usage of this expression is generally in regard to the U.S. involvement in Iraq. Asked whether he has plans to pull American troops out, President Bush replies he will “stay the course.”
     The other horsey expression is a bit more complex.
     Invariably, when an incumbent is seeking re-election, the slogan becomes “Don’t change horses in midstream.” Fine. That metaphor is convenient, but too often people take it literally, which they mustn’t do. A metaphor likens one thing to another, in this case a incumbent with a horse and the stream with terms of office. The expression is certainly clear, but we mustn’t get saddled with as if it were fact.
     Nothing’s more harrowing than the prospect of some genius switching horses in mid-stream and having the wagons, cargo, friends and neigh-bors floating aimlessly down the Willamette River.
     But candidates aren’t horses and they don’t run for re-election in mid-stream. Manely, they complete their term, and, if allowed, stirrup support to run for another. So unless we’re referring to a total recall election, that benefitted Ahhnold Swarzenegger, the horses-midstream metaphor collapses.
     During a sixties Democratic primary convention, both factions voted on a resolution that would drastically change the rules of the convention. The losing side, shocked by the lopsidedness of the vote, threatened to take the other faction to court to put things the way they were.
     “Not so fast,” shouted members of the winning side. “You can’t change the rules after you’ve played the game.”
     That statement prompted a minority delegate to deliver a 20-minute speech on the theme of “This isn’t a game; it’s a convention.”
     Without using a thousand words I struggle with a way to counter what the delegate said. True, a convention is not a game. Yet, it’s tough to find the right words to convey the meaning intended by the delegate on the winning side. People who agree to a set of rules and then get spooked by the results often try to undo the outcome. Yet, there seems to be no clearer, more terse way of making the point. Sometimes metaphors are better than the concepts they describe.
     Regarding the “mid-stream” metaphor, an oft-forgotten bit of New Mexico political history is that gubernatorial terms used to be two years. Incumbents were allowed to seek a second term.
     In the early sixties, New Mexico had a one-term Democrat governor, a rarity, given the many advantages of incumbency. In those days, citizens argued, correctly, that the terms were too short. “They spend the first six months breaking in to the job, and the last six months campaigning for re-election,” people said. And because the de facto term of about 12 months galloped by, many people thought of a two-year stint as “mid-stream.” Accordingly, supporters of the incumbent governor resurrected the horses-stream expression.
     Well, the strategy came out lame for New Mexico’s Democrats, as Edwin L. Mechem put the incumbent out to pasture for the 1961-63 term.
     Election night, as the results came in over KFUN, my mother, Marie, appeared distraught over a fellow Democrat going down in defeat.
     Somehow, she got over it and later even chuckled over the quick thinking of a Pecos-area Republican. After hearing a San Miguel politico repeatedly using the “mid-stream” analogy, the Mechem supporter brayed out, “No, you can’t change horses in mid-steam, but you can change BURROS.”
     By the way, the name of the incumbent who lost to Mechem was . . . John Burroughs.