It was
Primary Election Day in the Commonwealth of
Pennsylvania. This was not the big election. We were
setting up the pieces for the game that will be
played out in November, when many of us will be
trying to re-defeat President Bush. The horror, for
me, is not being able to imagine a solution for the
ongoing war in Iraq, Bush's war, a war many of us
never wanted to see started for the very reasons that
presently plague us. In my opinion, Bush squandered
an opportunity when he turned his focus away from
Afghanistan and towards Iraq. What world support we
had, even among other Muslim nations, has been
discarded by this spurious war with Iraq. I believe
as a result of our invasion of Iraq the forces of
terrorism are growing. The present administration has
trapped our soldiers in an intractable campaign.
In contrast to life as it is presently lived in
Fallujah, the suburbs of Philadelphia were enjoying a
quiet spring day. On this particularly Tuesday, after
driving Ms Keogh to work, I snuck back to bed for a
few more hours sleep with the cat tucked against my
side. When I awoke the second time, I dressed at a
leisurely pace, checked my little cheat sheet of the
candidates I intended to vote for, and, sporting
sunglasses and my straw fedora, stepped into a
bright, warm afternoon. It was a gorgeous day, a sky
of blue satin and a few torn shreds of clouds. The
maples were bedecked with tiny pale-green leaves. A
few crab apple trees were still in bloom, but other
fruit trees had abandoned their bright petals to fill
the gutters of the street. The air was fragrant. Kids
were riding bikes. In the schoolyard they were
tossing balls and shooting hoops. School was closed
for the election.
The short walk brought me to my old alma mater,
Samuel Everitt Elementary School, where I had labored
through fifth and sixth grade. Inside the school they
had set up the old voting machines, clunky
battleships with shower curtains. First I identified
myself and signed the register, but these were
neighbors and several knew my name. Shamefully, I
didn't know who they were. I was handed a ticket
announcing me as a "Valid Democrat" and so
the machine was set with the Republican choices
locked out. Being the Primary, I was only allowed to
decide on who would be the candidates within the
Democratic Party. This is unfortunate because the
important choice rested with the Republicans. Joe
Hoeffel was the only Democrat running for the Senate
seat. However, the Republicans were deciding between
two potential candidates, Pat Toomey and the
incumbent Senator Arlen Specter. A fearful prospect
for me was that Pat Toomey might win, a man more
sharply to the right than the moderate Specter. Pat
Toomey would shove his particular religious beliefs
into law, such as denying women the choice of
abortion and denying gays the rights enjoyed by other
citizens.
Then there was the issue that everybody got a whack
at regardless of political affiliation, the
referendum for building a new high school. All about
the community I've seen signs posted on green lawns
reading "Vote No for the New Neshaminy High
School". Voting yes would mean our property
taxes would increase.
Some argued that the fifty-year-old Neshaminy High
School, my other alma mater from tenth grade to
twelfth, was in pitiful disrepair and unworthy of
refurbishing. Pamphlets had arrived to my door during
the last month with arguments for and against the new
school. The arguments were all presented in terms of
conflicting costs and taxes. I could cynically
imagine the construction of a new school as merely a
clever way for developers to make themselves richer;
however, if a new school was needed, I would not want
to deny anything in the service of the education of
our community's children. Not knowing whom to believe
on the issue of the new school, I telephoned the
Neshaminy Federation of Teachers, the local teacher's
union, and asked for the general consensus among
them. They felt the new school was necessary.
So I stepped into the booth and grabbed the thick
lever. With a hard yank to the right, I mechanically
forced closed the pair of curtains behind me. In the
privacy of the booth, I made my choices, latching the
little knobs with my fingertips and shoving them
down. When I yanked the big lever back to the left,
the curtains split apart and the knobs all sprang
into their former positions, thus rendering my ballot
a secret to all but the machine.
Later that evening, en route to retrieve Ms Keogh
from her job, I passed Guns and Things, the
"friendliest gun shop in Pennsylvania."
They had two of those "Vote No for the New
Neshaminy High School" signs on their narrow
front lawn. It gave me confidence that I had made the
appropriate decision, yet the referendum for the new
school lost. On the other hand, I've heard that the
vote was not binding; the politicians will do what
they want. Further good news was that Arlen Specter
won the Republican candidacy by a very narrow margin.
The Primary Elections proved to be a pleasant day,
except for the disturbing notion that far away from
this comfort and freedom, my vote is trying to
influence the present fate of that land between the
rivers, the cradle of civilization, to alter the
sickening quagmire made by Bush and Cheney and
Rumsfeld and Wolfowitz. Still, even if the opposing
party succeeds in removing the Bush administration
from power, how will the new administration resolve
Iraq, where either staying or withdrawing from Iraq
is likely to result in a bloodbath? |