Eve of Destruction Election

I used to really hate election day. Used to be, back up North when I live in a township and not a town, Mother was an elected official. Town clerk, or something. I don't know what that entailed besides keeping an antique file cabinet in our basement, having access to #1 lead pencils (ever seen one? I have!), going to a meeting once a month, giving people money for killing pocket gophers, and sitting at the polls on election day.

This is now illegal. For some reason at the time they thought it was acceptable for the local elected officials to also be the election officials.

I hated election day because Mother was always gone from 6 AM on election day until sometimes 4 AM the next day. We brought supper over for her, and Father would usually vote at that time. She did sack breakfast and sack lunch, and the coffee flowed constantly; since it was Minnesota, they had the 40-cup pot going nonstop.

At the time no one thought to ask for volunteers, much less pay anyone to do the drudgery. Mother and the three others (Treasurer, Chariman, and The Other Guy) had to sit there all day, hand out ballots and #1 lead pencils, register voters, assist voters, talk to voters, make coffee for voters....

Then they counted the ballots. By hand. They had to do it at least twice. If they came up with different numbers, they'd count again. And again, and again until they were each sure that the tallies they came up with were correct.

Considering that Mother was ALWAYS home, election day was an anomaly. Until my Grandma Eleanora died, she would would cook supper for us on election day. Earlier that day, Father would have gotten us off to school, which I suspect wasn't that hard since Mother would have chosen our clothes and made sure our homework was in order, our jackets and shoes located, and the cereal and stuff would be sitting out. All Father had to do was tell us to get up, then pour us some milk and juice, and tell us when the bus was coming. He was a bit uncertain about it, and his uncertainty unnerved us. My grandparents would take over for the evening shift.

Going to the poll was fun but scary. I would get to sit by my mom--quietly, of course--while my grandparents voted, and then chatted. We would be teased by whomever was there. We didn't protest because we only saw most of those people once every four years. Then we'd go home and not get to watch our sitcoms, and have to go to bed early but not be able to sleep because Mother wasn't there.

Then my mom quit or resigned or whatever from her local political post and it didn't matter any more.

But I went back one more time, in 1988, to vote in my own first presidential election. I drove home from college specifically to vote. I drove 600 miles round-trip to vote for Dukakis. It wasn't a wasted vote because Minnesota went to Dukakis that year; the words "George Bush" were still a joke in my family.

Voting was always a very tangible thing to me. Everyone made an effort. They made arrangements. They might disagree--as I voted the first time, I was standing next to Father whom I knew was voting for Bush--but they didn't disrespect.

I just realized something, right this minute. No Presidential candidate I have ever voted for has won. Ever.

This might be the first year ever.

Cool.