A week ago today, I had just walked out of the voting "booth" feeling an odd combination of confidence, trepidation, and guilt. Before I explain, let me go off on an unrelated rant.
Here's the unrelated rant: Touch screen voting sucks. Give me the days of closing the curtain to the booth and pulling the lever. I remember going to vote with my parents. It seemed like such an important and personal act. Something that required deep thought and concentration. Those metal machines were huge and the sound of the lever was so emphatic. There was no doubt that what you had just done was monumental. Touch screen voting has reduced the voting experience to something akin to ordering a sandwich at Wawa. Bring back the curtain!
But I digress.
When I left my polling place, I was as confident as I had been since the Iowa caucuses that Obama would win. Before Iowa, I liked him and supported him, but wasn't confident that he had what it took to win. Since I wasn't on the ground, I had no idea that his field organization was so strong. All I knew was that his performances in the debates up to that point weren't particularly strong. He definitely seemed like the most thoughtful candidate, but with an electorate that gave us W not once, but twice, I did not think the most thoughtful and intelligent candidate had a chance in hell of winning. Like most, I thought Hillary was destined to be the nominee, even given her baggage.
I was slightly worried after McCain picked Palin. (Isn't it funny how we refer to her by her last name, and Hillary by her first?) There were a lot of rabid feminists out there who were pissed with Obama for not picking Hillary and would vote for McCain just because of his VP pick. But once her, let's say her lack of preparation, yeah, that's what we'll call it - once her lack of preparation surfaced, it was clear that she wouldn't add anything to McCain's failing efforts.
So I was quite confident that Obama would win, but at the same time I was worried as hell.
This is the country that invented the poll tax. Disenfranchisement happens in every election. And with so much at stake in this election, I was sure that there would be some serious trickery happening. I was fearful that we would have another Florida on our hands. I was worried that voter intimidation would run rampant. Simply put, I believed that the election would be stolen.
But if, by the grace of God, the election wasn't stolen, I was scared that someone would try to hurt Obama. Just a few days before the election, two young boys were picked up for their plot to kill Obama and other African-Americans. There are still folks living today that are happy that Martin, Malcolm, and John were killed. There are still folks who are angry and resentful that African-Americans enjoy any kind of success. There are those that still believe that if an African-American elevates himself, then they must have been given unfair advatange because of race. So it wasn't such an outrageous thought that something bad might happen if and when Obama won.
Above all, I had an overriding sense of guilt. My feeling of guilt had been building since the winter of 2007. You see, I spent almost a year in Iowa for Bill Bradley during the 2000 election cycle. I retired from electorial politics when I went to law school in 2003. I decided that I wanted a more stable life. But I always said that if the right candidate came along, I'd reconsider. Well, when this cycle got going, I was just starting my legal career. I knew that if I went back out on the trail now, I would never return to the courtroom. So I decided to stick with my committment to my law degree and to stay put. It's a decision that I struggled with for almost two years and one that I truly regret.
Here's the rant: What the hell was I thinking?!!!!! Enough said.
So on election night, when the world was sheading tears over the historic win, I was not at all surprised by the outcome, holding my breath during his speech, and feeling stupid for not having played a bigger role.
Here's the unrelated rant: Touch screen voting sucks. Give me the days of closing the curtain to the booth and pulling the lever. I remember going to vote with my parents. It seemed like such an important and personal act. Something that required deep thought and concentration. Those metal machines were huge and the sound of the lever was so emphatic. There was no doubt that what you had just done was monumental. Touch screen voting has reduced the voting experience to something akin to ordering a sandwich at Wawa. Bring back the curtain!
But I digress.
When I left my polling place, I was as confident as I had been since the Iowa caucuses that Obama would win. Before Iowa, I liked him and supported him, but wasn't confident that he had what it took to win. Since I wasn't on the ground, I had no idea that his field organization was so strong. All I knew was that his performances in the debates up to that point weren't particularly strong. He definitely seemed like the most thoughtful candidate, but with an electorate that gave us W not once, but twice, I did not think the most thoughtful and intelligent candidate had a chance in hell of winning. Like most, I thought Hillary was destined to be the nominee, even given her baggage.
I was slightly worried after McCain picked Palin. (Isn't it funny how we refer to her by her last name, and Hillary by her first?) There were a lot of rabid feminists out there who were pissed with Obama for not picking Hillary and would vote for McCain just because of his VP pick. But once her, let's say her lack of preparation, yeah, that's what we'll call it - once her lack of preparation surfaced, it was clear that she wouldn't add anything to McCain's failing efforts.
So I was quite confident that Obama would win, but at the same time I was worried as hell.
This is the country that invented the poll tax. Disenfranchisement happens in every election. And with so much at stake in this election, I was sure that there would be some serious trickery happening. I was fearful that we would have another Florida on our hands. I was worried that voter intimidation would run rampant. Simply put, I believed that the election would be stolen.
But if, by the grace of God, the election wasn't stolen, I was scared that someone would try to hurt Obama. Just a few days before the election, two young boys were picked up for their plot to kill Obama and other African-Americans. There are still folks living today that are happy that Martin, Malcolm, and John were killed. There are still folks who are angry and resentful that African-Americans enjoy any kind of success. There are those that still believe that if an African-American elevates himself, then they must have been given unfair advatange because of race. So it wasn't such an outrageous thought that something bad might happen if and when Obama won.
Above all, I had an overriding sense of guilt. My feeling of guilt had been building since the winter of 2007. You see, I spent almost a year in Iowa for Bill Bradley during the 2000 election cycle. I retired from electorial politics when I went to law school in 2003. I decided that I wanted a more stable life. But I always said that if the right candidate came along, I'd reconsider. Well, when this cycle got going, I was just starting my legal career. I knew that if I went back out on the trail now, I would never return to the courtroom. So I decided to stick with my committment to my law degree and to stay put. It's a decision that I struggled with for almost two years and one that I truly regret.
Here's the rant: What the hell was I thinking?!!!!! Enough said.
So on election night, when the world was sheading tears over the historic win, I was not at all surprised by the outcome, holding my breath during his speech, and feeling stupid for not having played a bigger role.
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