I parked my car. Paced a little. Then paced some more.

It was early evening—the time when people are just getting home from work, unloading groceries, trying to catch a moment of peace. The hardest part about door knocking isn’t the walking or the weather—it’s the fear that you’re intruding on someone’s life.

But I kept telling myself: If I can’t get through this, I have no business being in politics.

So... I did it. Or at least, I tried.

I still couldn’t bring myself to knock on the first door.

Instead, I kept walking. A few blocks later, something caught my eye—a “Tina Cahill for School Committee” yard sign. That was it. That’s where I’d start. Someone with a sign must be civically engaged, right?

I walked up, knocked gently, and—lo and behold—it was Mr. Bregoli.

Yes, that Mr. Bregoli.

The man who’s been running for office in Quincy since 2011. A well-known figure. Someone I knew had opposed Lunar New Year being recognized as a school holiday.

“Why I oughta—”
Only kidding.

What struck me immediately wasn’t the tension—it was his presence. Calm. Open. And, most of all, welcoming.

I introduced myself. Told him I was thinking of running. That I didn’t have my nomination papers on me—just a notebook. I was walking the neighborhood to listen. To ask: What would make Quincy better?

He laughed. And then he said something I didn’t expect:

“Come on in.”

A Seat in the Leather Chair

He had just finished babysitting his granddaughter. He said he was tired—but not bothered. He handed me a water bottle, pointed to one of two worn leather chairs, and we sat down to talk.

He told me something I’ll never forget:

“Even when you disagree with your elected colleagues, you cannot be adversarial. You just can’t. This role is about service, and service requires collaboration.”

In that moment, the race I had been imagining in my head—full of positions and platforms—shifted into something much more real. More human. More relational.

The Parting Gift

Before I left, he told me to come back sometime. Said he’d introduce me to neighbors. Help with signatures. “It’s the right thing to do,” he said, with pride in his voice—the kind that comes from being a North Quincy Red Raider through and through.

And just as I stood to leave, he handed me a folded newspaper—his latest issue of the Bregoli Bulletin. His parting gift.

What I Took Away

For my very first door knock, Mr. Bregoli didn’t gatekeep.
He didn’t test me or turn me away.

He opened the door, offered me a seat, and gave me something better than advice—a moment of mentorship.

I started the evening thinking I’d be out convincing people.
But instead, I was the one who walked away convinced—
that this job is about listening first.