Citizens become part of campaign narratives

Some pledge their votes; others look elsewhere

T.J. Bonner, 54 In August, border patrol agent Bonner gave candidate Mitt Romney a tour of the Mexico border near San Ysidro, Calif. Now in TV appearances and campaign speeches, Romney mentions the visit and Bonner's advice when he talks about his plans to stem illegal immigration. "He was a very approachable man - and he was a good listener," Bonner said of Romney. (Abby Brack/Romney Campaign)

A border patrol agent showed Mitt Romney how the fence between California and Mexico had been breached by illegal immigrants with shovels and makeshift ladders. The mother of a soldier killed in Iraq gave John McCain a black bracelet, which he says he wears as a reminder of why the United States must finish the fight. A 98-year-old great-grandmother born before women could vote told Hillary Clinton she wants to live long enough to see her elected - and reelected in 2012.

The presidential candidates meet dozens of voters every day, hundreds every month. Only a few of their stories hold special appeal to the campaigns, and become part of the candidates' carefully crafted narratives, parables that illustrate the candidates' deepest values and biggest ambitions.

To the people behind these stories, the experience of being thrust into the hurly-burly campaign elicits a more complex mix of honor, anxiety, and hope. Some have become fervent supporters of the candidates who adopt their stories, others have not.

Lynn Savage, 54, of Wolfeboro, N.H., said it was an impulsive decision to give McCain the bracelet she wore in memory of her son, Army Corporal Matthew J. Stanley, 22, who was killed last December by a roadside bomb in Iraq.

"He was talking about his time in Vietnam, and suddenly it dawned on me," Savage said. "During the 1970s, I had a silver bracelet that carried the name of a soldier. I wore it faithfully. As I was sitting there, I thought, 'My God, now I'm wearing my son's. . . . I thought it would help him remember why he was running for president."

Now, McCain wears the bracelet on his right wrist, and invokes Savage in speeches. He says he plans to wear the bracelet until the mission in Iraq is complete.

"She symbolizes the courage and sacrifice of a lot of American families," McCain said in a telephone interview. "It serves as a reminder to me, to be honest with you, of what my first obligation is. All of us are caught up in our own ambitions, and it helps me keep my perspective."

Savage agrees with McCain's stance on the war, and likes his honesty. But as a longtime Democrat, she says she has not decided whom to support in the primary. "He wasn't my candidate, and I'm not sure he is to this day," Savage said.

Politicians have long invoked ordinary people - soldiers, factory workers, children - to dramatize sacrifice and struggle. "These are very significant rhetorical choices and, when they're well made, you can't tear them down," said Kathleen Hall Jamieson, a University of Pennsylvania political scientist. "You're telling voters that the candidate cares enough about this issue to personify it."

But the technique can be risky. When Democrats enlisted 12-year-old Graeme Frost - who had suffered brain injuries in a car crash - to argue in September for expanding children's health insurance, some Republicans accused them of exploiting him and bloggers questioned whether his family was too wealthy for government insurance.

Shanto Iyengar, a Stanford University political scientist, said politicians must negotiate "the perception that you are stage-managing, or you are taking advantage of this guy's problem to promote your own political career."

The people chosen in this campaign say a lot about the candidates.

John Edwards, the son of a millworker who makes poverty a central theme of his campaign, talks about James Lowe, 51, a disabled coal miner from Virginia who had difficulty speaking until last year because he could not afford surgery to fix his cleft palate.

Romney talks about "turning off the magnets" of employment and benefits for illegal immigrants, a phrase he borrowed from T.J. Bonner, the president of the National Border Patrol Council union. Still, Bonner, a Democrat, said he is not sure he will vote for Romney. "He's certainly in the running," he said.

Clinton appears to have been especially touched by women in their 90s who tell her they want to live to see the first female president. After Clinton spoke last month in Peterborough, N.H., Pauline F. Kenick, 98, was too slow with her walker to reach the rope-line where Clinton was shaking hands. Alerted by an aide, Clinton excused herself from a conversation, walked over, and took the retired nurse's hand to chat.

Kenick grew up poor in Nashua, the daughter of a railroad worker. As a schoolgirl, when she knitted blankets for wounded soldiers in World War I, her father had to sand down nails for knitting needles. She remembers her mother registering to vote when women gained suffrage in 1920.

Now, she has a Clinton sticker on the door of her unit in an elderly housing complex. And she hopes to vote for Clinton for a second term.

"My mother lived to be 101 and four months," Kenick said. "I'd only be 102. It could happen. . . . It's in the Lord's hands whether I'm around or not, but if I am she can count on my vote."

Levenson can be reached at mlevenson@globe.com, and Bombardieri at bombardieri@globe.com.