A political party
“It’s completely horrific.”
That was basically the gist I got when inquiring about the mystery-shrouded caucus process. Chaotic, messy, confusing, archaic and asinine were other words often used in the same sentence.
In other words, right up my alley. “Sign me up,” I said.
Besides, it was hard not to get swept up in the whole Super Tuesday hoopla. OK, maybe it’s not as exciting as, say, the Super Bowl, which my friends had attended and posted on Facebook ad nauseam. But, in a way, it’s like a political Super Bowl, or at least a playoff game – minus the Bud Lights, face painting and a guy passing out nachos. Plus, “The People vs. OJ” wasn’t on for a few more hours, and it had to be more fun than sitting at home.
So, I fed the kids, made sure the burners were off (twice), and hopped on my bike to ride down to see what this time-honored American tradition was all about.
In full disclosure, I am affiliated with a major political party. Which one, I will not say, because as a semi-journalist, it is my duty to portray some semblance of objectivity. However, if over the years of reading this fine publication you have failed to connect the dots (hint: it’s not a pachyderm), suffice to say, I eat granola almost every day, wear Tom’s deodorant, drive a crappy old Suby and have owned Birkenstocks since way before they were cool – again.
Besides, whether you’re red, blue, green or GDI, any American can identify with and understand the caucus process – or not. Would we burn the white smoke and release the doves signaling to the outside world that a consensus had been reached? I was about to find out.
 Caucus groupie: Right before we cancelled each other out – and stayed friends. |
Alas, I arrived at the right place, to find a line out the door. I must admit, the last time I stood in a line that long it was probably for a late night show back when I still needed to bring my ID to the bars. (Now I just offer to show them my stretch marks. Strangely, there are no takers.)
Fortunately, the crowd was well-behaved, and there were no fights between rival gangs flashing “H” and “B” signs – although I did need to show my ID at the door (which luckily for them, I had brought.) And despite what you may think, it was not just a bunch of, shall we say, people of a particular life experience level. All strata of the age hemisphere were represented, from babies to silver foxes, filing into that crowded room; that inner sanctum of grassroots democracy known as the caucus.
It was standing room only – and panic was about to set in upon realizing there were no operable windows in the stuffy room – when I scored one of the last empty seats. I was further put at ease as I looked around the room to see many familiar and friendly faces. I also spotted some cupcakes someone had brought in, and although there were no homemade chocolate-chip cookies of caucus lore, I thought I detected a whiff of marijuana. Caucusing was going to be fun!
I took a few selfies of myself and a friend (whose vote I cancelled out – sorry!) to post on Facebook just to make the Super Bowlers jealous. Or at least make them think I had a life.
Thank god our good city councilman Dick White took the reins, as most of us sat like deer in the headlights, still wondering if we were in the right precinct location or where the polling booths were.
See, caucuses differ from the primary in that instead of going into a booth all by yourself, pulling the curtain, marking a dot on a piece of paper, securing it in an envelope and sticking it in a metal box, everything is out in the open.
So, when you get up to speak in favor of your candidate (which I did not do, mostly due to a fear of public speaking and the inadequacies of the aforementioned Tom’s deodorant) you must look those neighbors in the eye and tell them point blank the way you feel. And, if you like Candidate A, and your neighbor likes Candidate B, well, there’s no way to hide it when you raise your hands and all heads crane to see who’s raising their hand for who.
Technically it’s not a vote, but a “straw” poll – yet another example of how antiquated the caucus system really is. I mean, what exactly is a straw poll? Is it something farmers did before we had pens and paper?
And that, precisely, is one of the major criticisms of the caucus process. What kind of Mickey Mouse political process uses a straw poll? Why don’t we just ro-sham-bo or arm wrestle?
Primaries, on the other hand, are much more dignified and civilized.
And I must admit, I had similar feelings about the caucus system going in. Frankly, a primary seemed much more to the point. Go in. Vote. Leave.
But sometimes, getting from point A to point B, or in this case, Candidate A to Candidate B, is not about speed or efficiency. Politics is a messy, involved process. And, despite what the politically apathetic say, an important one.
What better way to sort through the issues and come together on a consensus – or cordially agree to disagree – than via a healthy discourse and exchange of ideas among trusted friends and neighbors? And where else do you get a chance to stand up freely and take your stand in front of your peers?
Sure, you may end up in different corners of the room – and they may rib you for being on the “loser” or “old people” side – but at the end of the night, you still walk out friends and neighbors.
And isn’t that, after all, at the heart of civilization and democracy? A sharing of ideas and perspectives that somehow coalesce into a common goal for the greater good?
It’s enough to give a Super Tuesday newbie goosebumps, if not an enormous sense of that good, old-fashioned, maybe even corny, American pride.
OK, maybe not quite as much as the Super Bowl. But I’ll take the hoisting of Old Glory over the Lombardi Trophy any day. And cupcakes never hurt either.
– Missy Votel