For Duncan, All the Family's In

Those perceptions largely explain why the county has never produced an elected governor, said Tracey Sampson, a member of the Cecil County Democratic Central Committee, who hosted Duncan at the Jack and Helen's Diner in Chesapeake City yesterday. "That's the stuff that matters to people," she said. "Yes, he's from a big, rich county. But when you meet him, and you hear where he comes from, it makes a big difference."

When Duncan decided to run for county executive in 1994, he sat his children down in the den, and he and his wife, Barbara, explained to them what they might expect during the campaign.

"They listened to everything we said, and their only response was, 'When you're done, can we get cable?' " Duncan deadpanned.

Barbara Duncan, who has kept a very low profile during her husband's political career, said the children all understand this campaign will be different -- tougher on everyone. "I just told them, you should never be disappointed in your dad because of a headline or because of something you see on television," she said.

It helps that the children are older now, she said, and in many ways better able to understand the gravity of a campaign. Though on the road, there are still moments where the candidate and his wife must simply be parents.

As when Conor, who has spent much of the ride along the byways of rural Maryland wearing headphones, lost in Tim McGraw, proposed getting her own room at the hotel in Ocean City. ("Not a chance," Barbara replied.) Or when Thomas, 16, thought about breaking away from the campaign trail to spend time with friends. ("If he's going to miss school, it's going to be to campaign," his father declared.) Or when both parents paused, as the RV idled in an Elkton parking lot, to wish Thomas luck on his upcoming football game for Georgetown Prep. (They won, 15-10, and Thomas scored a touchdown on a kickoff return.)

Duncan says the link between family and politics started with his mother, who took him along to hand out fliers for the Democratic Party when he was in elementary school. And there was a reminder of that yesterday, when Duncan was pulled aside by a stranger while touring Chestertown's business district under gray skies.

The stranger was Connie Goodwin, 79, who handed Duncan an envelope wrapped in a Ziploc bag. Inside was the program from a piano recital at Notre Dame High School, dated Sunday, May 18, 1941. Listed as playing a piece by Mendelssohn called "Spring Song" together were Goodwin and Eleanor Hughes, Duncan's mother.

"Oh, my gosh!" Duncan gasped, as he gingerly opened the yellowing parchment to read the program and then thanked her for the gesture. "Can I give you a hug?"

After Goodwin parted, Duncan turned to his wife. "You know what?" he said. "This has got to go on [the Web site] duncansfordoug."