Sunday my city council person, a young guy who’s about to vote in his third election, came by promoting a candidate. I like the guy, and I was already behind his candidate, and we had a short political chat after he’d asked me if I wanted to put up a yard sign. I said, “No.”
Why not? Plenty of people do… He didn’t say that, but I think the question was in his mind. Instead, like the good politician he is, he said, “I understand.” But I didn’t think he did so I explained.
It’s funny that often our parents think we don’t listen to them but we do and one of the conversations I remember is my parents and aunts (?) talking about voting. I told the city council member about their philosophy and he’d never heard of such a thing. I said, “I think it was normal for their time. People needed each other — just like we do in this small town — so they didn’t publicize their politics. They believed — and said — “A man’s vote (back then ‘man’ meant human) is his business. It’s between a man and his conscience and it’s disrespectful to ask anyone how he’s going to vote.”
The city council member said, “I can see that.”
“Yeah,” I said, “it meant fewer disagreements between people.”
I also think, though I didn’t say it, regardless of who gets elected, when it’s all over and the stooge, I mean candidate, is inaugurated, and the new government takes over, it’s pretty much business as usual. That’s what we hope for, anyway. By respecting the sanctity of the voting booth, and every person’s right to vote his/her own conscience (in my day ‘he’ is a gender loaded pronoun), we make that easier.
But I’m (not) the first to admit that as presidential elections go, this is the most surreal of my substantially MORE than three experiences voting for that office.