Fingers crossed
I had intended that this would be the year I became more than a spectator in politics--way back last year I envisioned myself volunteering for the campaign. Apparently I'm as lazy about politics as I seem to be about everything else.
Tomorrow's rally is taking place literally steps from my office. Normally I work until 7:30, but I think we're closing early because of the anticipated crowd--something like a million people. My sense of history nags me to be there, even though I don't have a ticket and will have to congregate with the throngs in Grant Park. My sense of claustrophobia, as well as my love of sleep (I have to be back at said office at 7:30 Wednesday morning, regardless of whether the country's going to hell or not), however, make me think that I'll be spending tomorrow evening with Tom Brokaw instead.
Regardless, though, I don't think I'll get a bit of work done tomorrow. Even though we're probably closing early, I'm going to vote before work, because otherwise I'll be a wreck about it all day. I sat down with the ballot and the newspaper endorsements yesterday and stressed once again about the 70-odd judges who are up for retention and the cryptically worded (nonbinding) referenda my town is throwing on the ballot yet again. I agonized over the constitutional convention question.
Participatory democracy is going to give me an ulcer. But as always it bothers me much more that not everyone is doing the same level of agonizing.
On a positive note, my brother and sister-in-law are planning to vote tomorrow for the first time. Yes, they're 28 (this has been a bone of contention between us for the last decade). But better late than never, right? And I've been assured that they won't be canceling out my vote.
Tomorrow's rally is taking place literally steps from my office. Normally I work until 7:30, but I think we're closing early because of the anticipated crowd--something like a million people. My sense of history nags me to be there, even though I don't have a ticket and will have to congregate with the throngs in Grant Park. My sense of claustrophobia, as well as my love of sleep (I have to be back at said office at 7:30 Wednesday morning, regardless of whether the country's going to hell or not), however, make me think that I'll be spending tomorrow evening with Tom Brokaw instead.
Regardless, though, I don't think I'll get a bit of work done tomorrow. Even though we're probably closing early, I'm going to vote before work, because otherwise I'll be a wreck about it all day. I sat down with the ballot and the newspaper endorsements yesterday and stressed once again about the 70-odd judges who are up for retention and the cryptically worded (nonbinding) referenda my town is throwing on the ballot yet again. I agonized over the constitutional convention question.
Participatory democracy is going to give me an ulcer. But as always it bothers me much more that not everyone is doing the same level of agonizing.
On a positive note, my brother and sister-in-law are planning to vote tomorrow for the first time. Yes, they're 28 (this has been a bone of contention between us for the last decade). But better late than never, right? And I've been assured that they won't be canceling out my vote.
posted by Madame Defarge at 6:08 PM
1 Comments:
I've bought a bottle of champagne, which is chilling in the fridge. I'm desparately hoping that I'll be using it to toast our good fortune, and not to drown my sorrows. I plan on burning the midnight oil with CNN and a former classmate in Texas. He and I have spent the last three elections together online, comparing notes and recent polls. Every election I have safely managed to deliver both Illinois and California for the Democrats. He has welched on Texas every single time.
We have 12 propositions to decide on for tomorrow. 12. I find it absolute bullshit that people who can barely come up with the names of the current presidential and vice presidential candidates are allowed to determine some of these things. I have no right to decide what the length of jail time should be for drug offenders and I don't think the average California should either. We, too, have sat down with our guide and the local newspaper endorsements, but I can bet that the majority of our neighbors won't. I am still a firm believer in making more stringent voter qualifications. Unless they're willing to vote for my candidate.
One proposition in particular has me in a tizzy. Prop 8 wants to ban gay marriage. The christian right is advertising that (gasp) your children will be forced to learn about gay marriage in schools. My weirdo christian zealot anti-social neighbor with her homeschooled children have put up a big yes on 8 sign in her yard. There have also been hundreds of these ridiculous signs popping up all over Folsom. It makes me sick to drive by them. We tried in vain to find "No" signs for weeks. Finally last Tuesday, a friend from Mike's work gave us a few yard signs and bumper stickers. I took particular pleasure in going out and jamming mine into my front yard, just a few feet away from theirs. Apparently we're quite the talk of the neighborhood. One of mike's colleagues asked if he was the guy who lived at 1212, with the No on 8 sign in his lawn. I told Mike to tell him that I'd rather teach children about gay marriage than teach them discrimination. I was constantly worried that our sign would get stolen, or our house would be vandalized. How sad is that in this day and age? But I realized we did the right thing when we got a knock on the door the following evening. A woman down the block wanted to thank us for putting up the sign and said it was comforting to know that there were like minded people out there. She asked if we had any extra signs for her home and her business. After she put hers up, 2 more signs on our block went up for No on 8. It made me feel good. I may not have made calls for Obama, something I still regret, (especially after one of my favorite students told me she had done it), but at least I feel I voiced my opinion, and encouraged others to do the same.
I am so jealous you'll be so close to the celebration. Course, I'd probably be home too. That's the best place to get all the information. Things are still too close for me to feel comfortable.
Well, I'll leave Illinois safely with you tomorrow, and I'll take care of California. Here's to hoping we can make history, and no longer be embarrassed to say where we come from.
I've still got my passport ready though, just in case the world does go to hell...
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