![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Election Incident.
Today, I'm going to write about politics, and I'm not going to apologize for it. I'm going to write about a time when the world was bright with promise. Given the nastiness of politics right now, I think it would be refreshing to revisit a time when there was hope for the future.
Yes, let's talk about 1988.
I was nine years old and in a south Georgia elementary school when it happened--the presidential elections. It was kind of a big deal because these were the first elections that I could ever remember happening--Ronald Reagan was the only president I could remember. My class followed them halfheartedly. We didn't really discuss the issues--I'm not sure we were aware that there were issues, but we talked about the candidates and the electoral process to some degree. When Mrs. Johnson announced that we would be participating in the election, too, in the week preceeding the real election, we thought we had died and gone to political heaven. The voting machines were in the cafeteria in preparation for Election Day, and all the teachers had permission to take their students in to use them as part of the learning process. We knew it meant something more, though--for the first time in our lives, the country was asking us for our opinion.
No real election has been taken so seriously before or since that chilly November morning. We solemnly filed into the cafeteria, waiting in line eagerly while classmates filed into the booths. Tan curtains separated us from them, those important vote-casters fulfilling their national duty. When at last it was my turn, I inspected the machine for as long as I dared, knowing that there were others waiting but feeling consumed by the importance of what I was about to do. Then I cast my vote for Michael Dukakis.
I could mention the reasons that went into my choice. I could discuss the man's politics, his appearance, his ideals. I could say that I voted for him because my dad was planning to. I could say any number of things to defend myself, but the outcome will remain the same. Late that afternoon, the votes were tallied and the decision announced.
George Bush: 29
Michael Dukakis: 1
This incident is still famous in my family because I was utterly devestated. I cried my heart out when I got home because I was the only one who voted against the man who would become our 41st president. If it had been a relatively even split, I wouldn't have cared about losing, but to be the only one was something else entirely. The others quickly deduced who the unlucky vote-caster was (a chorus of "It wasn't me!" began, and when one person remains silent, even nine-year-olds can figure out who the subversive must be) and began teasing me unmercifully. I tried to brush off their comments by declaring that I had only voted for him due to his cool name, but they weren't fooled. I had voted for him for a hundred different reasons, but none of them were about my preference for unusual names. My vote had been heard and summarily dismissed as ludicrous by 29 other nine-year-olds. The insult was deep.
The real elections went similarly, and I never did learn to like George Bush after that. Perhaps that event even nudged me along the path to the political ideals that I now hold of my own accord. I suppose there was a lesson to be learned there, but at the time, my ego was entirely too bruised to see it.
I see the pattern now, though--in 1988, my vote didn't count.
Twelve years later in 2000, my vote still didn't count.
In 2004, though, I still have hope.
Yes, let's talk about 1988.
I was nine years old and in a south Georgia elementary school when it happened--the presidential elections. It was kind of a big deal because these were the first elections that I could ever remember happening--Ronald Reagan was the only president I could remember. My class followed them halfheartedly. We didn't really discuss the issues--I'm not sure we were aware that there were issues, but we talked about the candidates and the electoral process to some degree. When Mrs. Johnson announced that we would be participating in the election, too, in the week preceeding the real election, we thought we had died and gone to political heaven. The voting machines were in the cafeteria in preparation for Election Day, and all the teachers had permission to take their students in to use them as part of the learning process. We knew it meant something more, though--for the first time in our lives, the country was asking us for our opinion.
No real election has been taken so seriously before or since that chilly November morning. We solemnly filed into the cafeteria, waiting in line eagerly while classmates filed into the booths. Tan curtains separated us from them, those important vote-casters fulfilling their national duty. When at last it was my turn, I inspected the machine for as long as I dared, knowing that there were others waiting but feeling consumed by the importance of what I was about to do. Then I cast my vote for Michael Dukakis.
I could mention the reasons that went into my choice. I could discuss the man's politics, his appearance, his ideals. I could say that I voted for him because my dad was planning to. I could say any number of things to defend myself, but the outcome will remain the same. Late that afternoon, the votes were tallied and the decision announced.
George Bush: 29
Michael Dukakis: 1
This incident is still famous in my family because I was utterly devestated. I cried my heart out when I got home because I was the only one who voted against the man who would become our 41st president. If it had been a relatively even split, I wouldn't have cared about losing, but to be the only one was something else entirely. The others quickly deduced who the unlucky vote-caster was (a chorus of "It wasn't me!" began, and when one person remains silent, even nine-year-olds can figure out who the subversive must be) and began teasing me unmercifully. I tried to brush off their comments by declaring that I had only voted for him due to his cool name, but they weren't fooled. I had voted for him for a hundred different reasons, but none of them were about my preference for unusual names. My vote had been heard and summarily dismissed as ludicrous by 29 other nine-year-olds. The insult was deep.
The real elections went similarly, and I never did learn to like George Bush after that. Perhaps that event even nudged me along the path to the political ideals that I now hold of my own accord. I suppose there was a lesson to be learned there, but at the time, my ego was entirely too bruised to see it.
I see the pattern now, though--in 1988, my vote didn't count.
Twelve years later in 2000, my vote still didn't count.
In 2004, though, I still have hope.
no subject
I'd be mortified. For the rest of my life, too.
Our current political system is pretty effed up but it's all we got. I just know that I want the current head honcho out the door asap.
Re:
no subject
BTW, I would have voted for Dukakis too.
Re:
Nice to know I'm not the only one who would have voted for him. :)
no subject
Re:
Election
Re: Election