Dear Readers,

Labor Day has come and gone. Our schools are open, and many of our summer friends are heading home, although most of our businesses will remain open until October.

Fall does not officially arrive until 10:29 p.m. on Sept. 22. But the silly season, the beginning of the 2014 general election campaign, kicked off on Labor Day.

We will soon be drowning in TV commercials asking us to vote for this candidate, or shun that candidate, because (insert reason here). Political commercials are everywhere. You can't escape them.

Last weekend, after gardening, I searched some websites that might tell me how to germinate hostas from seed. Clicking on a Facebook “how to do it” video, I was suddenly watching the familiar TV commercial urging me to support Gov. Paul LePage. It reminded me “he was not like other politicians.”

I guess you can't escape political ads — even on Facebook.

Later, as I waited for the Channel 6 weatherman to tell me if It would rain in the morning, here comes an Eliot Cutler ad. The independent candidate for governor was complaining that his opponents wouldn't debate him. He implied they were both chicken.

That ad was followed by one from gubernatorial hopeful Mike Michaud, a democrat, seeking support because he came from a big family where he learned to get along with others. I come from a big family, and we always all got along. Right?

Later in the evening, an ad from Republican Sen. Susan Collins urged us to vote for her because she helped the brewers, (the beer brewers, not our friends Mary and Butch who live in East Boothbay) fight a proposed federal rule that would have barred them from selling used grain to farmers.

Moments later, an ad from her opponent, Democrat Shenna Bellows, sought our support by promising to raise Social Security payments and to hike the federal minimum wage. Of course, she didn't put a time line on fulfilling her pledges.

I can't wait for the anticipated flurry of slick and nasty attack ads from outside interest groups hoping to elect or defeat a candidate who agrees with them, opposes them, or, in some cases, just declines to kowtow to them.

These TV ads are all part of our 21st century political world where a political campaign, quarterbacked by professional “consultants” shies away from meeting real people, and relays on commercials to plug talking points.

A candidate, who once would spend his/her time engaging voters at barber shops, bowling alleys, churches or service clubs, now spends much of his/her time on the phone asking folks for money so he/she can buy more TV advertising. Is that a way for the candidate to avoid embarrassing questions, like: “How are you going to pay for all this stuff you are promising?”

Sometimes, these fancy techniques backfire.

Despite all the TV/Facebook commercials and other computer driven ploys, like “robocalls,” you can still find old-fashioned, grassroots, one-on-one, political campaigning in Boothbay.

On the Saturday morning before most elections, you can usually find candidates at the dump asking for votes.

“Let me help you with your trash, Mrs. X. And, by the way, I'd appreciate your support on Tuesday,” is one way candidates campaign around here.

Asking for votes at the town dump, dear reader, is how you define “grassroots politics.”