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Christine did so much for me — for us. She should be our next senator for 2nd Middlesex. She’s a great legislator, and more importantly, she cares
By Peter DeMarco
It’s a very strange thing to knock on someone’s door and hope that no one opens it. Because if they do, you have to tell the story all over again, and that still brings you to tears.
This was me all summer as I knocked on hundreds of doors in Medford, Somerville, Cambridge and Winchester to ask people to vote for Christine Barber to be our area’s next state senator. “I’m here because Christine helped me pass a law in honor of my wife, Laura, who died 10 years ago,” I would say within the first seconds, before they had a chance to close the door on me. “You might have heard of it — it’s called Laura’s Law.”
Maybe you, also, remember Laura's story. She was having an asthma attack at 4 a.m. one September morning and walked to the emergency department at Somerville Hospital, which was just a few blocks away. I wasn’t with her, and she didn’t drive a car.
But everything went wrong for Laura. When she finally reached the front of the hospital there wasn’t an emergency-room sign above any entrance: all Laura saw were blank facades. Confused, she chose the wrong door, which was locked. With her last breath Laura called 911 for help and stated her location, but no one came out of the hospital to rescue her. Panic stricken, she collapsed moments later, never to recover. She was just 34.
How could a hospital not have an emergency sign above the right door? It was because Massachusetts had no regulations for anything having to do with getting people quickly and safely into emergency departments. Hospitals were left to decide on their own upon whatever signage, lighting, security staffing, surveillance cameras, or staff training they did or did not put in place.
I was a journalist with the Boston Globe, so I wrote every detail about Laura’s death in a very moving story called “Losing Laura.” The story was widely read but it didn't change anything: I needed legislation to do that, and I needed an awful lot of help, because I had no idea where to even begin.
This is when I met Christine, who was my state representative. (Laura and I lived in Davis Square.) Christine and our area’s current state senator, Senator Pat Jehlen, both said the same thing to me: “Tell us what you need, and we’ll do it.”
It took four, long years for Laura's Law to get passed and for actual, nuts-and-bolts safety regulations to be created so that no one will ever die as Laura did. During all that time, Christine was a rock for me to cling to.
She was always calm, which was so reassuring, because I was anything but calm. She was always upbeat — but was also a realist, telling me where things stood. She always made time for me, always returned calls, texts, emails – and there were a lot of them from me.
So many times, I would be in her office, or meet her in Sen. Jehlen's office, upset because the bill was taking months to pass from one committee to the next, or because the bill got altered in a way that upset me, or because I was convinced it would be opposed.
Christine couldn't promise me that we'd succeed, but she was determined that we would not fail. I can't tell you how much that meant to me.
Christine used all her resources, and I’m sure a good amount of her personal political capital, to get hospital leaders to meet with me, to pull in the support of other legislators, and to make sure I got a one-on-one meeting with the speaker of the House — the gatekeeper of all bills — without which Laura’s Law had no chance.
A legislative session lasts two years. If your bill doesn't pass within that time frame, it gets thrown away, and you have to start all over again. Laura's Law did not reach the House floor for final approval until literally the last hour of that 2-year session, at close to 3 a.m. Christine was texting with me all night, providing step-by-step updates. The session was live-streamed, so at times I could see her seated on the chamber’s main platform actually looking at her phone and responding to my messages in real time.
In the end, Laura’s Law did pass. Unanimously.
It’s why, a decade after Laura’s death, I have spent almost every weekend this summer knocking on doors and retelling her story over and over. It’s been grueling, but the primary race for state senate in the 2nd Middlesex District is hotly contested, as Sen. Jehlen is retiring. Christine needed my help; I needed to repay her.
If I’m lucky, I get to the end of Laura’s story before they close the door. I hand them Christine’s glossy informational card and ask them to go to her website, www.christinebarber.org, to learn about her policies and all she’s done for the community. Christine has served as state representative for large portions of Medford and Somerville (the district straddles both cities) for 11 years; she’s just trying to move up.
“I was a complete stranger when I walked into her office,” I say, “and she did everything she could to honor my wife’s memory. I can’t imagine a better legislator, or a better person, to be our next state senator.”
I hope you vote for Christine Barber on Sept. 1. She has an easy name to remember, Barber, like a barber.
I know Laura would have.
Peter DeMarco is a Somerville resident. He says, "September is the worst month of the year for asthma attacks, mainly due to ragweed pollen. The third week, called “Asthma Peak Week,” sees the most attacks of the entire year: It’s when Laura’s attack struck. Please spread the word, and if you’re having an attack, immediately tell someone."
