I took a fast walk around the 1.5 mile perimeter of our neighborhood this evening, under a dark, clear sky that will probably bring with it some near-freezing temperatures overnight. At a couple of spots along my route I caught the scent of one of my fall favorites: wood fires burning in fireplaces.
Down the street, one of our neighbors had left on the interior light of their car as it sat parked in the driveway. I took a detour onto their front porch to (hopefully) help them prevent a dead-battery mishap on a cold Monday morning. The elderly man who opened the door said "Thank you very, very much!" in broken English; being somewhat new to the English language is something he shares with many of our neighbors.
I listened to Simon and Garfunkel as I walked. The classics: "America," "The Sound of Silence," "The Boxer," "Mrs. Robinson" . . . the perfect soundtrack for a brisk walk on a cold night.
I am ready for Tuesday's election to come to an end. It's time to take checking poll-tracker websites off my to-do list. It's time for me to have some closure here. I went to a training session today for "poll greeters" (I'm one of them), people who'll stand 100 feet away from polling places to hand out information about judicial candidates, perhaps offer chairs to people standing in line who might need them, and call a hotline if we see any signs of voter intimidation. (It's kind of cool to know what those signs are . . . I like learning stuff like this!) I've never done this sort of thing on an election day, so I can add this to my "new experiences" list for the year. :)
Another thing I'm ready to stop asking myself: "How can I convince people to vote?" I can't. The people out there who have the wherewithal (time, life circumstances, education level, etc.) to be voters who choose otherwise will continue to be a complete mystery to me. In an election like this, with so many "firsts" and so much to be concerned about, how in the world does a person remain in the ether of indifference? Especially now, when the economic ceiling seems to be crashing in on our heads and the floor is crumbling beneath our feet, how does one remain disengaged? I'll never get this, and I'm not really sure that I want to anyway.
This is the first time I'm voting as someone's mother. Not surprisingly, this is bringing a new weight to the moment for me, and sharpening my opinions on the necessity of the voting process if one's life circumstances allow it (and, no, I don't consider "I had to get to the grocery store to buy soda and Ziploc bags" a reasonable reason to skip voting). When I bring Maia into the voting booth with me on Tuesday, I am modeling active citizenship, engagement with a world bigger than myself, complex decision making, respect for the rule of law, and the meaning of a government "of the people and by the people." I'm going to step into that voting booth on Tuesday and think about the future of an actual human being whom I'll be holding in my arms. Just writing that sentence brings tears to my eyes.
As I was walking around my neighborhood, my thoughts were on those of us who ARE going to vote on Tuesday. Please, citizens, please, vote with kindness rather than spite. Vote from the open parts of your hearts and minds. Vote with care for your children and your grandchildren. If you vote this way, I don't care whose name you check on your ballot. Just take a deep breath, be mindful of the weight of the moment, and VOTE.
2 comments:
Amen, sister.
Adding a "selfish" voice to your plea: we should vote not just for children and grandchildren, but also for ourselves. This is one of those elections where the immediate ramifications of our decisions might actually be tangible. I feel that at some level it's OK to vote for our own self-interests, our own very much in-the-moment (as opposed to future-generation) needs. I need better health insurance for preventative care, for example, and I need it NOW, while I'm still young. I need the economy to stabilize so that universities and museums can still hire faculty and staff when I finish school. I need my reproductive rights intact. Our parents need their retirement money. It's not about every-man-for-himself, or at least that's not how I see it; it's a different kind of selfishness - more like everyone for everyone. Takes a village to raise a village.
I hear you Jo, but get upset when people who voted in their own self interest say what a "dark" night Tuesday night was and that they don't know how they'll handle living in the U.S. for the next four years. These are acquaintances and family - people who I suspect are as racist as Obama's grandma might have been in the past.
I'm trying to have a gigantic heart, but it can make me so mad when people don't acknowledge the hugely wonderful and historic thing that happened on Tuesday. Condi Rice was even overjoyed, for gods' sake.
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