The Voters I Remember

Early Voting Day 1

The woman had a little kid with her. I scan her card to find her in the voter files. Look up. "Oh! I just voted for you! Wait, I'm probably not supposed to say that...."

As the couple were heading to different registration clerks, I heard her say "It's our first time voting together." I'd said the same words the day before as we filled in our absentee ballots at the kitchen table and smiled at them. Not that they saw, behind the mask and all.

Early Voting Day 2

Mother and daughter entered the center together. Mom went to one clerk, daughter came to me. We're working on getting her registered--she has her passport but nothing with her address. ("Not a problem, we'll use a special ballot.") At some point during the paperwork, she mentions being up since 2 this morning. "Has quarantine turned you nocturnal?" "No. My dad died this morning. But I'm still here to vote." Later, when the clerk next to me shouts a celebratory "First time voter" and the cheers erupt, I wish I had thought to do the same for this Gen-Zer.

The older woman who told me it was her first time voting. She was wearing a purple raincoat and had crossed the city to come to our center because she heard it had a shorter line. (I didn't lead cheers for her either.)

The joy of the Nats fans having a way to wear their jerseys, caps, and masks into the stadium. Even if it's not for a game. (Though I also delight in the guy who wore his Boston Red Sox gear. Turns out I like sports teams much better than political teams.)

Early Voting Day 3

The woman wore a shirt from the Southern Baptist affiliated but looks non-dom praise band church around corner from me. She may have needed to update her address (I never was clear which place she currently lived at and which was old). It was clear that her drivers license hadn't been updated. --People are telling me they can't get in until March. Though one guy who signed up for an appointment months ago has it on his calendar for January.) Not a problem! Do you have anything with your address on it that you can pull up on your phone? A lease? A paycheck? A bank statement? A bill? "No. They're all in my husband's name." She presented as privileged, so it didn't hit me until after she walked away. Not even a bank account with your name on it? Really? My neighbor clerk said it best, "I didn't think those women existed any more."

The trickle of people coming in to vote, even on a rainy day.

Early Voting Day 4

The guy wore a bespoke suit, but I complimented him on choosing to wear the US flag mask to vote. "Oh, thank you. Not everyone appreciates it." I would've squinted at him, but we'd had enough confusion already. By the time I finished updating his registration, I wasn't surprised that he was Republican.

Early Voting Day 6

It'd been a slow shift, but I appreciated that the woman working the door sent people to each registration clerk in turn. It meant we all knew that the next person who walked in was going to table 9. "You're heading to the back, but you need to stop by my table first!" It was one of my church sisters. Someone who I had asked for her thoughts about the election back when we had a slate of candidates for the primaries and could sit side by side on a couch in the Sunday School room eating snacks after church. After I signed out for the day, I saw her in front of me at the exit. We walked towards our homes, talking.

Early Voting Day 7

Ainsley Hayes lives next door to me. Or at least a current, non-fictional counterpart? Blonde. Southern. Registered Republican, but in a tone of voice that is consistent with my headcanon that Ainsley currently works at the Lincoln Project and is not voting for the current resident of the oval office.

Last Day of Voting

The mother, daughter, and grandchild who came in together (only the first two could vote). The woman, a couple of years older than me, who was there with her 18 year old daughter.

The marine whose proof of residence was a letter from a commanding officer. He wanted to vote in Ohio, but the ballot didn't make it in time, so he used the same-day registration to cast his ballot here.

The cheers when first time voters submitted their ballots. Echoing across the school gym.

The woman who, when she was leaving, said, "Go Joe! Who ya'll voting for?" We couldn't tell her, but we knew.

Saturday morning peace*

Dear God,

We praise you this morning for the wonderful world you created and gave us. We woke this morning to blue skies and growing plants and the songs of birds in the air. We read messages from loved ones and hear the voices of family and friends and we know that we, too, are loved. Thank you!

But God, there is horror in the world. We are keeping distance from people who don't live with us in an effort to protect everyone from disease. We hear sirens out the window. We hear stories of deaths that don't make sense. We see the evil around us and we know it is not the life that you want for us.

Be with us. Help us to unite together for healing. Repair our broken bodies. Bring rest to our troubled minds. Mend our wounded souls.

We believe in the sacrifice of your body, broken on the cross. We believe in the power of the resurrection from the grave. Let us be your body in the world, united in your glory.

Amen

* Emailed to a church friend in response to a prayer request

after I asked if there were actions for us to support our family

And it was good

God created human beings;
        he created them godlike, 

Reflecting God’s nature.
        He created them male and female.
God blessed them:
        “Prosper! Reproduce! Fill Earth! Take charge!
Be responsible for fish in the sea and birds in the air,
        for every living thing that moves on the face of Earth.”

Then God said, “I’ve given you
        every sort of seed-bearing plant on Earth

And every kind of fruit-bearing tree,
        given them to you for food.

To all animals and all birds,
        everything that moves and breathes,

I give whatever grows out of the ground for food.”
        And there it was.

God looked over everything he had made;
        it was so good, so very good! 

It was evening, it was morning— 

Day Six.

Genesis 1: 27-31 from Eugene Peterson's interpretation in The Message

 

 

Is there a better time to reflect on our stories of creation than when we gather in the face of destruction? When we pause to consider what we have wrought, that is the time to remember what we have been given. And what we give to each other.

I wanted a sign to reflect my religion--to say, "This I believe. And this, too, I believe."

We are responsible.

120,056

Blessed were the miles

Adventures along the way

Minnesota to 

South Dakota, Chicago, 

Michigan, Texas, and all

The homes we found in between

Blessed be the journeys

Along new routes and with a

New supporting cast 

May you enable access

To a life of diverse paths

On being United Methodist and in a new home this Lenten Season

I went to the big church across town for worship last Sunday. The service was a balm for my soul. You can watch the service here. Highlights included:

• The welcome.
• When the pastors and staff give a joint pastoral statement following general conference. 
• The sermon.

I don't know when I last witnessed a sermon with such a long standing ovation.

~~~

But as much as the worship was what I needed, I don't think it's the congregation for me.

As much as the banners and the flags symbolize the welcome mentioned at the beginning of the service, I don't think it's the congregation for me.

Because I am particular person about my congregation. And I want to be welcomed personally. And if I arrive before the service starts, and ask, "Is this seat available?", and pass the peace, and offer kleenex, and sit through the postlude, and weave my way through the groups of friends chatting, to wait in line for a handshake out the door, AND no one says something to the effect of, "Hi, I don't know you. I'm Me. Welcome." Then, the welcome is said, but not performed. I'm not cast out, but I'm not brought in.*

~~~

The church down the street is small. Average attendance maybe 40-strong. Every time I have walked into the building, they have greeted me and asked my name. As I left the Ash Wednesday service, multiple people said, "See you Sunday!"

Their worship style is not what I'd prefer. Less high liturgy. (I'm becoming more Lutheran all the time). Not reliant on the organ. They're not as outspoken about general conference, and I'm not certain where they're going to land--though they are on the reconciling ministries homepage. The sermons don't give me the same inspiration.

But they are clearly ministering to the community. 

And they welcome me.

~~~

After I shook the robed hand at the door, I snuck back in another entrance toward the fellowship/welcome hour. Found my way to a desk and asked where I could pick up the Lenten devotional booklet they put together. Walked over and was handed one being told it "was my name on it." The man was very friendly. But he did not know my name.

~~~

I walked forward for the ashes.

"Hope. It says Hope." He told me as he pressed the rock into my hand and handed me a prayer book. I looked at the word written with a permanent marker.

~~~

Hope.

Hope in the face of a denomination that fights against the way I believe we are called to go.

Hope on the day I reflect on mortality. On the liturgical anniversary of my grandfather's death. On the day I hear the news of his sister's impending death. On the day I'm told of the death of a friend's child.

Hope.

~~~

How to repent this season? How to grieve? How to hope?

 

For myself, I'm renewing my daily lectionary reading and following the books from both churches.

I'm only allowing myself on Musher Twitter** and Religious Twitter.***

And I'm going to try to write more. Sometimes in my journal. Sometimes as prayers for friends. And maybe even, sometimes here.

* The counterargument is that the people near me could also be visiting. But the woman to the right knew the words to the welcome the pastor offers at the beginning of the service. And the man to the left was greeted by name by the men behind. And I did shake the hand of someone in a robe when I was exiting the building.

 

** Because giving up Musher Twitter in the middle of the Iditarod would be hard. And not hopeful.

*** I don't know a hashtag for Religious Twitter. It's not my usual scene. Suggestions of who to include in light of this post are welcome.

My first time (all the cool kids are doing it)

-->

My strategy when I was depressed yesterday was to:

1) Actually finally push myself to make the phone calls to my congress-peeps.

2) Text my parents and sister that I'd called. (Sister and I agreed at Christmas that we'd love to get our parents to call. Their rep, in particular, is someone who I want to have hearing support.)

2a) Get really excited when mom said she may need me to talk her through how to get established. End up researching her congress-peeps, finding numbers, writing out a script, and sending to her.

2b) Slip back to depression when mom emailed back that she's not going to call this time. (I understand her reasons. Still sad.)

2c) More hope after my mom forwarded my email to her liberal friends. Follow-up with all of them about my experience calling.

3) Text a handful of other friends that I'd called and asked if they had yet. Know I successfully got one person to call for his first time.

4) Reply on Twitter to woman I met once five years ago talking about her calling experience.

Someone said to make the calls even more effective, we should be going public.I think there are various levels of what going public means. Sometimes it's posting on social media, sure. Sometimes it's having conversations with the people you know who maybe you don't talk about this stuff with usually. And sometimes it's giving high fives to cheer on the community that you have. 

~~~

Call My Congress was a helpful landing page for me. Linking to Open Secrets was fascinating.

~~~

My sister says it's like calling in your pizza delivery. You need to know the number you're calling (probably not Domino's, go with a local joint), what you're asking for (pepperoni no olives/Affordable Care Act),  and where you live (so they can deliver the pizza/know you're a constituent). 

Like at the pizza place, they're much more used to receiving the calls than you are to making them. Having a script planned helped me this time, the same way that I would practice my order before calling the pizza place back in the day.

Conversation with the only other person in the office

Cute German (CG): Are you being productive?
Me: I'm setting up a date for tomorrow?
CG: Like a date date?
Me: An OKCupid date. A first date. bounces on ball
CG: I guess that counts. Productive towards your future.
Me: Yes! And once I finish this message I can go back to my work productivity, writing about....marriage.

Yes, really.

Split

We were at the end of the third date. He'd already bought my movie ticket. I made a point of getting the concessions. When he was in the restroom I looked at the check and put my credit card in the folder. And directed the waiter not to take it, that I wanted him to pay half. (Hey, the restaurant was more expensive than I would have chosen.)

~~~





You probably won't be surprised by what happens next. Maybe you're more accepting of cultural norms than I am. Maybe you've dated more than I have an had made your peace with them. Maybe you've only dated people you already knew so it's no big deal.



~~~

He returns. I indicate that he should pay. There is confusion about where the pen is. I point out that we haven't sent it back yet. He pulls out his credit card, slides mine back across the table.

"No, really. Let's split."

"But you're a student." And you make plenty of money. 

I hate that. It feels like a trump card. We're both tired, even though it's the situation for a conversation, it's not the time for it.

"True. Thank you."

~~~

I know it's the norm, but it irks me enough that I start asking friends how I can get off the "subsidized meal plan" on early dates. I'm not trying to date to get free meals.

I learn that the answers are better when I ask about split checks on first dates. I learn guys think it's a bad sign when their date wants to split. I learn that women will let the guy pay first and offer to get the next one. But only if they like him.

I hear about the strategy of getting to the coffee shop early and getting your own drink before the date shows. I hear about women in Sweden yelling at the guy who insists on paying.

I don't get an answer I can put into action. I'm not comfortable making that scene. And even with my standard (free) first date, eventually we'll be at a place where I can't order ahead.

~~~

My feminism worries that the men in my sample are more adamant that the guy should pay than the women are. That the only guys I ask who think it's a good sign if the women wants to split, follow immediately with "but I'm a feminist." That women who want the guy to pay usually add "I'm old-fashioned that way" or "I'm southern like that" or "I'm traditional about that."

"Don't worry about it. Let they guy pay," the crowds tell me again and again. "You'll let friends pay for you, won't you?" "Money doesn't mean the same thing to everyone." "Maybe this is the way grown-ups do things."

The feminist in me listened when my math minded other told me it's better to be the match partner making the offer than the one reviewing offers. An explanation of love not being fairly divided between men and women that has everything and nothing to do with gender.

What else are people old fashioned about?

~~~



Two weeks into this informal conversational therapy, I've learned why I'm so uncomfortable.

I'm proud of my independence, financial and otherwise. Yes, that independence is supported by a wide community that I look to for support. There are many people who take care of me. There are many people who I take care of.

On a date like the one above, you are not one of those people. You're auditioning to join them.

I have an action plan for the next time I'm caught trying not to get my credit card back. I'll ask why. Knowing my own response is more than a sputtered, "because…but..but...but...feminism" makes me feel more confident that I can push that discussion.

Even when I'm tired.

Neighborhood love

I'm sitting in my "home office" aka the coffee shop across the street.* The mail carrier is walking back to his van. He stops. Bends at the waist. And brings his hands to his face binoculars style to look at me while I wave hi. Because we are adorable like that.

*This is the place that I wanted to go to once a month. 

I've never managed that. 

But this month they've become my BFFs. 

I mean, they know my mom and ask after her. 

And I carry $2.46 in my bag to pay for my first cup of tea.

Reason #325 I'm glad I visited Nicaragua

From e-mail sent to my friends last Friday.

Hi dears ,

I haven't been feeling well since sometime on Tuesday. Told my family I had an unhappy gut. Yesterday on my way home, I checked with parents for advice. We agreed that the possibility that I picked something up in Nica made it worth going ahead and getting to the doctor sooner rather than later. 

Doctor wasn't sure what was going on. Symptoms weren't really parasite. Not really flu. You still have your appendix? I was sent home on watch and wait with instructions to go to er if I had pain get worse or started a fever of 100. 

So when temp was 99.1 at 6 and 99.3 at 6:30 last night, I called a friend to take me in. The ct scan gave a clear diagnosis of appendicitis. Apparently nasty too. This morning the surgeon who took it out last night was trying to assess my pain. Is it worse than last night? Last night was never all that bad. But your appendix looked like a kielbasa sausage.

So, given all of that, I am very glad that I thought it might be a parasite and worth visiting the doctor. And also glad that I don't. (This is so much easier to diagnose and treat in the US.)

Feeling fairly well now. Sore but I was just given more pain meds. My ant is with me. Mom is flying out. I will probably go home this afternoon. Hope your life is less exciting than mine at the moment ;)

Love,

Me

~~~

Mom flew home this morning. I have a Google doc with friends signed up to visit me every day for the next week. I'm planning on going into the office everyday next week. Though I'm not promising a full day there any day. Healing is an exhausting process. And it's naptime again.