Because of the national obsession with this year's Democratic primaries and caucuses, I've been been re-reading Timothy Crouse's "The Boys on the Bus," a compelling account of what life was like for the pack of political reporters who in 1972 trailed across America with the men who would be president.

There is good writing here; on Page 1: "While reporters still snored like Hessians in a hundred beds throughout the hotel, the McGovern munchkins were at work, plying the halls, slipping legal-sized handouts through the cracks under the door ... According to one of these handouts, the Baptist Ministers' Union of Oakland had decided after 'prayerful and careful deliberation' to endorse Sen. McGovern."

Also, my interest in the primaries is piqued because my son-in-law, chief political reporter for the St. Petersburg Times, is one of the "boys on the bus" this year.

When I mentioned to Raleigh friends that Adam is sometimes gone from home up to two weeks at a time, one murmured sympathetically, "That must be terrible. Away from his wife and little family all that time."

"Aw, it's not that bad," I teased. "He's not changing diapers, taking out the garbage, letting Delbert out for his nightly potty, unloading the dishwasher and the like."

You see, unlike the men on the bus in Tim Crouse's book, today's newsmen are full partners in child-rearing and household chores.

I remember when I was a young family man -- or perhaps that should be recast as a man with a young family -- my newspaper sent me off to New York for two weeks to learn how to become a better editor.

Sure, I missed my wife and two little girls. But I also loved the exchange of fresh ideas with editors from across the country. I enjoyed the quiet time in the hotel room. The good food. Not being at work at 6 a.m. The happy hour every day at 5, and the subway rides to catch a Broadway play. I enjoyed the camaraderie of men -- and a woman or two -- in love with the gratifying life of newspapering.

I remember actually saying aloud as I closed the hotel room door for the last time, "Goodbye, room. It's been great!"

As any of the men and women who during the past weeks have covered the primary caucuses and elections will tell you, comparing their nomadic and far more arduous duties on the campaign trail with my two-weeks' comfortable encampment is like comparing John Kerry's Vietnam service with President Bush's National Guard stint.

There's very little fun and precious little romance in listening to warmed-over speeches in sub-zero New Hampshire temperatures. Their yesteryear counterparts for the most part merely covered the candidates' press conferences, counted the crowd and reworked the campaign staffs' handouts. Today's political pundits have to show more hustle and put in a lot more leg work, such as chasing down and interviewing prospective voters.

My son-in-law was doing some of the latter in South Carolina when he encountered my former boss and N&O publisher Frank Daniels Jr. and his wife, Julia, pushing doorbells on behalf of Sen. John Edwards.

Calling my son-in-law early one evening in Iowa after he had attended a couple of rallies where the press outnumbered the voters, I learned he had just returned from dinner with syndicated columnist Dave Barry and Newsweek's Jonathan Alter.

"Hey, that's a broadening experience," I said, in my best fatherly-in-law tone, to which he quipped, "I think so, too. And I'm sure they appreciated it."

That was Adam's ready wit responding, not arrogance, of which he has none.

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