“Do you even remember Bush Sr.?”
My friend Jimmy is 10 years my senior and likes to remind me of relative youth in a way that sounds as if I should still be wearing diapers. I like to remind him he’s 1 year closer a daily Cialis regimen.
“F–you. Of course I do. I even threw a re-election party for him. All my teddy bears were dressed in their finest,” I paused to give myself a moment to reflect before continuing. “Incidentally, it was the last time I ever voted for a republican.”
Dear Readers, I should note that I was 7.
Indeed, In my extreme youth, I was quite the little politician and social activist.
In the 3rd grade, I started several clubs aimed at advancing civil rights while curtailing global warming. My Anti-Pollution Club was formed over a slumber party. The next morning, I made my friends go pick up trash along the sidewalk outside my house. By that evening, there was strife within the organization, and we disbanded on Monday morning due to “fundamental differences” with respect to our “founding principles.”
We didn’t actually use those terms, but we were 3rd graders in a national “blue ribbon” public elementary school.
There was also the Women Vote Too club, which was aimed at getting women the right to vote. We retired our efforts as soon as one of our members discovered that, thanks to something called an “Amendment” to a piece of paper called The Constitution, women already had the right to vote.
Again, we were 3rd graders in a public elementary school.
Like any good politician, I also ran an illegal gambling ring. At summer camp, I convinced my counselors that we were holding intense Go-Fish tournaments, when really, I was teaching my fellow campers poker and making a killing.
You’d be amazed how much milk money kids got in the 90s.
Then in middle school when we had to select, memorize and deliver speeches originally spoken by someone else, I always chose key, historic political addresses. Susan B. Anthony’s defense to the court. President John F. Kennedy’s inaugural speech:
“And so, my fellow Americans, ask knot what your country can do for you –ask what you can do for your country. My fellow citizens of the world, ask not what American will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.”
Yea, I memorized that.
I also ran for student council.
Every real election, I accompanied my father to the local fire hall that became our polling station. I would watch intently as he closed the curtain, flipped some switches, and cast his ballot. I felt he transformed into the Wizard in The Wizard of Oz — all powerful and all knowing.
The democratic process fascinated me. And I confess that at an early age, I hoped to live out the prophecy of the doctor responsible for bringing me into this world:
“She’s going to be our first woman president!”
20 years later, I can’t say I’ve remained so politically-minded. I have my causes, but my aspirations to follow in Kristen Gillibrand’s or Hilliary Clinton’s shoes are not as high as they once were. (Though, I wouldn’t mind being Chair of the President’s Committee on Arts & Humanities….which means, I’d better get friendly with a President.)
But, if there’s one thing I still believe in, it’s the power of the voting booth to transform. For those few minutes behind the curtain, I’m alone with just myself and my choice.
I am the all-knowing and all-powerful Wizard.
“With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love…”