Curb Your Cynicism
Curb Your Cynicism
My partner and I of twenty years – we can’t get married in New York State, even though a New York State appeals court just ruled our state must recognize out-of-state marriages – go to our local elementary school to vote in the primary.
The school is justly beloved for its dynamic principal, innovative curriculum, parental involvement and special needs program. With all manner of wheelchairs and walking devices, the first floor looks like Lourdes. It is a victim of its success, and so overcrowded, it has had to move many special programs out of the school.
We walk past the PTA Moms hawking baked goods for the school. “The croissants are low-fat.” We give them a ten, but don’t take anything. They are chirpingly grateful.
We walk into a steamy, Dianne Arbus low-ceilinged inner room, smelling faintly of green sawdust and cooked cabbage. I’m hoping that since it is early, the election officials are still just getting their system down. We are the fourth and fifth voters from our district.
The older woman I am directed to doesn’t hear or see that well and seems flummoxed with the multi-tasking of finding “Clinton” on her list – “Can you spell it?” – and assigning me a number. Five. The big lever to open the voting booth curtain is jammed. I cast my vote for someone who will have to deal with global warming, gay issues, education, aging issues, the economy, voting reform. And that war.
We vote, walk out and breathe deeply. We walk by a young woman by the playground fence, at the mandatory distance from the polling place, surreptitiously murmuring “Hillary” and passing out home made fliers like they were nickel bags. A woman with a regulation Obama placard stands in silent vigil across the street.
This Super Tuesday, it’s Carnival in other parts of the world. In the US, it’s the national semi-finals of American Idol and there is a late surge by a talented young man who can kick out a speech like nobody’s business. The handsome business cardboard cutout of a guy is lip-syncing Ronald Reagan. The white haired vet is cracking straight jokes. No matter the talents of the woman contestant, she is to be judged by Survivor rules.
Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday. I am going to daub a big bindi of ash on my furrowed brow and try to give up cynicism for Lent.
February 10, 2008 @ 9:19 am
Well, how would you have felt casting your vote in Florida this year? I almost cried, knowing that it may not matter one bit that I made the effort to go to our polling place to cast my vote for Hillary. I usually use the “new” electronic” system, just so that someone will, but this time I opted for the paper. I filled in that little circle so carefully, thank heavens for Sister Mary Reparata’s shrill harpings to “stay inside the lines”, but still wondered if they saw my designation, and my rainbow kittie t-shirt and shredded my ballot when I placed it in the box. But, I keep hoping that things will get better, or least change just a bit. Who can say? Florida is trying to teach creationism, for G.O.D.’s sake! BTW, I plan to adopt your translation of that acronym! I always wondered what it stood for. I am sure she will help some of these back-water, nuckle-dragging, bible-thumping idiots see the light. Uh-oh, I hear them coming now! Save us! I am praying that you are able to keep your lent resolution. Pray for me, too? My heritage is Jewish, but was raised a Cat-o-lick, so have the hard wiring and the software for guilt. But, I am recovering, thanks to you! Eat some pussy for me, that is what I gave up for lent! G(ood) O(ld) D(yke) help me!
We love you KATE!
February 16, 2008 @ 11:16 pm
I’m going to the polls this week in WI and thankful that at least my vote at least in theory counts. I can’t wait to show my support for Hillary. I am also going to a town hall meeting tomorow to see my second favorite Clinton. I’ll do my best to come up with a good queer question but any helpful suggestions are appreciated!