When Megan was little, I took her with me to vote.
For many years, it was easy. Our polling place was at a house just two doors down the hill from ours. We would hold hands and walk together, and my little girl loved getting an "I Voted" sticker from the poll workers.
It was important to me. I could never understand why so many members of my generation and the ones that followed were so apathetic about voting -- even though, as a lifelong liberal, I could be a poster child for dashed political hopes. The candidates and causes I cared for most usually lose: Jimmy Carter in 1980. Walter Mondale in 1984. Michael Dukakis in 1988.
The Clintons ushered in my personal political golden age -- tarnished by the revelations of Bill's um, extracurricular activities. Too Much Information -- and not relevant, as it had nothing to do with his ability to govern. It should have -- and would have -- remained private if not for that "vast right-wing conspiracy" that hounded them from the moment they entered the White House. I truly think that Bill Clinton might have been a great president -- if only he had not been distracted throughout his administration by the BS of Whitewater, et al.
And then came the election of 2000. A heartbreaker if ever there was one. But 2004 was worse, because by that time, we could see the kind of administration we had. The evidence that Iraq had NOTHING to do with 9/11 was out there, but people chose to believe Bush and Cheney and they won re-election fair and square. By all rights, I should have decided right then and there to give it up -- my vote didn't matter.
But I suppose those public school civics classes that were a staple of the cold war years made too much of an impression on me. I am a concerned citizen who votes, and I was determined to raise a child who would participate in our participatory democracy.
So we drive to school with NPR news on the radio, and we discuss the issues that are raised on the program. She asks a lot of questions, and I try to answer them as honestly and respectfully as I can. I want her to be able to evaluate issues on her own and make up her own mind. But I also let her know how I feel about things, and why.
Before gymnastics took over my daughter's life, she accompanied me in the voting booth.
This year, I stepped it up a little. I brought Megan with me to a MoveOn anti-war rally. She served as my photographer at the California State Democratic convention. And yesterday morning, she wanted to watch me cast my historic vote.
We no longer have the luxury of a polling place right on our street. The folks who used to give up their garage on election day seem to have decided to give that up, and for the past several elections, our polling location has been a moving target. This time around, we were directed to a fire station on a busy street. We went there as a family yesterday morning -- only to find a line that stretched half a block.
There was no way I could stand in that line AND get my daughter to school on time. So my husband dropped us back at home, and I disappointed her with the news that I would most likely cast my vote while she was at school.
You see, I was a nervous wreck yesterday. I was involved in this election to a degree I'd not allowed since the disappointing Project Survival campaign of the late 70's (a "no nukes" initiative that ultimately failed -- probably because I was actively supporting it).
I was antsy. I could not wait until after school to cast my vote. The registrar was predicting a historic 80% turnout, and suggested going to the polls between 9 and 11 or 2 and 4. Megan had an orthodontist's appointment at 3:00. No, I needed to get there as soon as possible.
The antsiness didn't recede. I indulged an overwhelming craving for carbs. I couldn't focus on work, so I vacuumed the house. And the political news on the television droned on in the background; all talk and speculation. There could be no real news until the polls closed, and that wasn't going to happen for a while -- but I kept the talking heads talking anyway.
And then the numbers started coming in, pretty much as the polling had predicted.
Over the weekend, I'd purchased a bottle of decent champagne, thinking we'd break it open if the election went our way. My husband wanted to open it.
"No, not yet," I told him. "Not until we know if we have a reason to celebrate."
Obama won Pennsylvania. And Ohio. And Virginia was looking -- good.
"OK," I told him. "Good enough."
We sipped our champagne and watched the numbers and at 8:00, with voting over on the West Coast, the news coverage shifted to Phoenix and John McCain's classy concession speech. I got a little tear-y.
A short time later, the world was watching the party in Grant Park, and I started to actually cry.
We're in for a tough few years. I know it won't be easy. But I have faith in our new President-Elect. We will come through the hard times stronger than ever.
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