Hi, I'm Jean Hay, I live in Blue Hill, and I'm running for Congress in Maine's 2nd District.

One of my opponents, at a candidate forum recently, claimed to have the credentials to run for Congress.

My first reaction to that was surprise. I didn't know I needed credentials to run for Congress. I thought we elected people based on their passions, their intelligence, their philosophies, and their grasp of the issues.

My second reaction was, that explains a lot about why Congress is the way it is.

My third reaction was to dig out my credentials and show them to you, because they explain a lot about me.

First, the credentials I don't have.

I'm not a lawyer, I've never been in the Legislature, and I'm nobody's nephew. And while some of my best friends are any or all of the above, you'll notice Congress is full of lawyers and former state legislators.

With only a handful of women in Congress, I'd guess there are a lot of nephews there, too.

Congress does not reflect the diversity of the population it represents. It should. I am trying to do my part to move Congress in that direction.

Here are the credentials I do have.

My driver's license. You will notice it has a motorcycle permit on it. So when I claim our public roads to be hardhat zones, and call for a helmet law, that law will apply to me.

My license from the Department of Agriculture, Food and Rural Resources for my farmstand and greenhouse. I know about government paperwork and small-business regulations, first-hand.

This certificate from the state Fire Marshal's Office permitting me to discharge, fire off or explode fireworks. I set up the big shows for the towns for Fourth of July or county fairs. The finales are fun because you get them all ready ahead of time, light one fuse, and then stand back and watch them take off, one after another, in rapid succession. I've thought of that many times recently, picturing George Mitchell lighting that final fuse, and sitting back and watching the series of colorful explosions he touched off. Four of them are here with us today.

An honorable mention in Connoisseur Magazine. A food editor talks about eating in season and how he ''foraged for inspiration'' in our farmstand. The richest man in the world is interviewed in the same magazine. That's not his granddaughter on the cover with him. That's his wife.

A certificate of appreciation from the Superior Court, for my ''conscientious performance of an important duty of citizenship.'' Grand jury. Now there's a credential for you.

This is a bar of Old Goat Soap. Not only do I own a box with this trademark on it, but I own the trademark. It's real lye soap, what used to be plain and ordinary when every woman made it in her kitchen, but they don't make it that way anymore. I did. I made plain soap, put it in a fancy package, and gave it a name only a mother could love. I was trying to make a point about the absurdity of the hype of packaging. Of course, the whole thing backfired on me. People liked it. One guy even wanted me to gear up and make 10,000 bars a month so he could sell them to cutesy shops in California. I did the homework, figured out I could do it, and then dropped the whole thing like a hot potato. I really didn't want Old Goat Soap to be my legacy.

But the box is perfect. How many politicians bring their own soapboxes, with their own trademarks? There's a credential for you.

This certificate answers the question: ''Has Jean Hay ever been elected to office before?'' The answer is yes.

This Certificate of Election certifies that I was elected to the LAA 1 Blue Hill ''A'' Community Agricultural Stabilization and Conservation Committee in Hancock County, effective December 9, 1986.

As you can see, I have a thing about credentials.

In Ohio, growing up, I was taught credentials were very important. You did anything the doctor said because, after all, he was the doctor, he had so much more experience and all that education, and he's so much smarter than you. Don't ask questions.

It is bad enough when the patients have that idea. It is worse when the doctors have it, too. People need to take more responsibility, not less, for their own lives. But that's another issue.

I brought the overblown respect for credentials with me to Maine in 1972. But it didn't last long. Maine is too full of intelligent, insightful, interesting people with not a credential to their names.

Working as a general assignment reporter and bureau chief for the Bangor Daily News for 10 years reinforced the idea that credentials and quality don't always go together. I came to deeply respect people who were good at what they did, no matter how humble or aspiring. The clam digger or blueberry raker whipping that fork or rake along are as graceful as Barishnokov. The tiny woman trucker backing an 18-wheeler into a tight spot in the mud to load up our carrots is as skillful as George Mitchell maneuvering a bill through Congress.

Sometimes it takes newcomers to Maine a while to learn that. I've got one more story to tell, and then I'll close up.

The Blue Hill area doubles its population in the summer, and those of us who live there year round usually enjoy what we call the ''summer people,'' but sometimes they are strange. One of the people who worked in my farmstand made some money when he designed a T-shirt that read ''Summer People, Some Are Not.''

Anyway, about three years ago, a man who was spending the summer in Maine proceeded to make a real pest of himself. He didn't like the hours our farmstand was open. He was a busy and important man. He wanted to come by two hours before we opened and he wanted what he wanted all bagged and ready for him to pick up when he got there.

I did that once for him to accommodate him. I did that twice, in fact, the second time on a Sunday, which was the only day we had off all week.
The third time he demanded, not asked, but demanded, special treatment, I sent him this letter.

Dear Mr. (anonymous for your own good),
     Our recent telephone calls and brief conversations have shown me that you know little about the area in which you are spending your summer.

     One of the things I like about Maine and about the Blue Hill Peninsula in particular, is the way people treat each other with respect. Violinists and artists and rich summer people have intelligent conversations with plumbers and carpenters and lobster fishermen. Assumptions are not made, cannot be made, about one's social status, bank account, talents, interests – and intellect.
     I know several carpenters with degrees in the humanities, for instance. One plays in the Bangor Symphony in his spare time. I have a very good friend who finished his doctorate in clinical psychology to please his family, and is now happily enmeshed in his own computer-repair business. The elderly woman who has taught home wine-making at a local gardening club is a chemist who has several patents on commonly used prescription drugs. The farmer who hand-dug the potatoes you ordered has a doctorate in wildlife ecology from the University of Michigan and has served as an adviser in his field in three states and one foreign country.
     Your attitude, since we first talked, has been polite, but is still clear: that since you are busy in publishing and have money, and I am a farmer with dirt on my hands, I should adjust my schedule to accommodate you. Your attitude is extremely arrogant. Further, I resent being treated as your nigger.
     Our farmstand is open 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. Monday through Saturday, July through October. If you wish to do business with us, please confine it to those times.
Sincerely,
Jean Hay, owner,
Hay's Farm Stand, Blue Hill, Maine.

Two days later, he came into the stand, bought his vegetables, politely put his money on the counter, smiled, and left.

* * *

When you go to the polls to elect your next member of Congress, you will be voting on a candidate. Each candidate is a package made up of that candidate's professional background, personal history, philosophies on life, and priorities. You will be sending to Congress the person you think has the judgment and courage to make the decisions necessary for the good of the country and for the state of Maine.

As a voter, I always took that responsibility very seriously. I hope you will too. I know there are a lot of us here. Please take the time to sort us all out.

As you do that, I would like you to consider just one more thought:

     That maybe, just maybe, now is not the time for politics as usual.

Thank you.

– Speech to the Aroostook County Democratic Party Convention