Decisions, decisions…
I ventured out against wind and rain yesterday to enjoy brunch with a few girlfriends who I don’t get to see as often as I would like, due primarily to the amazingness of each of them and their subsequent high demand by others. Of course, I’m busy too, but it’s not because I’m needed at fabulous and important events. No. It’s simply because of my obligations as the mother of a toddler and nagging wench to a lovely man who truly deserves better. I often tell Sam that, in the case of my untimely death, he should grieve openly for at least 24-hours and then go out and find himself a petite, kind-hearted, soft-spoken woman who isn’t chained to her laptop and who lovingly rubs his feet and alternately plays make-believe with Ruby while enjoying it.
During our meal at The Adams Avenue Grill—where we encountered what could possibly be categorized as the worst customer service in the restaurant industry, and if you’re thinking about eating there, my advice to you would be SKIP IT—our conversation turned to Super Tuesday and who each of us would be voting for. One of the my lovely friends dismissed me as a vote-waster with a flip of her hand because I’d mentioned last week that I was still checking the box next to John Edwards’ name. If ever there was a time for me to vote my conscience, it is now. Or, at least, it was at the time that Edwards pulled his name from the roster of presidential hopefuls.
I bristled at being mocked for my potential conscience vote and—given that I’m not the fictional, pushover second wife to my betrothed—I said as much to my teasing friend. I understand where her prodding comes from: She firmly believes that the system works whereas I firmly believe it doesn’t. What I have come to believe, however, is that no vote—other than the one never cast—is a wasted vote. In my mind, any person who takes the time to actually show up and participate in our democracy should be free to cast a vote for whomever she wants without fear of ridicule.
All of that being said, I am not voting for John Edwards. It is one day before what might just be the most important primary election in my lifetime and I cannot go into the voting booth to make a political statement by voting for someone who isn’t running. It would appear that this time, perhaps my vote might matter, which means I have to choose. It’s either Clinton or Obama and, like Rebecca Traister over at Salon (who’s written a fantastic piece I wish I’d written), for the first time in my life, I am undecided. Neither of the remaining Democratic candidates presents policies that overwhelmingly appeal to me. But I know we need a Democrat in the White House and so I’m reduced to voting for whomever I think can beat the Republican candidate.
The thing is this: I have no confidence in the American public, which has been obscenely apathetic as BushCo wiped it’s muddied Crocs all over the Constitution during these past seven years. I don’t believe that a majority of our populace is going to vote for a woman, or more specifically, this
I hope I’m wrong. I really, really hope I’m wrong
Because if I’m not? Well, then…I suppose I could walk into the voting booth tomorrow, and write in the name of my dog without wasting my vote.
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