Still recovering from a 1:30am bedtime, but feeling good this morning nonetheless.
This time, four years ago.
Yesterday I took the girls with me to vote. F skipped ahead up the ramp at the polling place and an older lady stopped me and said how cute she was skipping that way. I smiled and thanked her, but cute would not be the first word I would have chosen that morning. Strong. Independent. Determined. Opinionated.
And then there’s this. Fortunate.
What a gift it is to skip to the polls. What a gift it is to cast a ballot. What a gift it is to have a voice. What a gift it is that my girls can see more women each year making their voices heard.
I think of voice a lot – it is the writer in me, the reader. Not the spoken tenor of a voice, but the character of a person that comes through in the words that others use to describe them, or the words that they choose to describe themself. I think of messiness a lot as well; I often describe the messiness of life, the messiness of passions, the messiness of balance and the pursuit of balance, the messiness of comprise. The messiness of birth, the messiness of death. The messiness of a kitchen or a laundry room that means people live here, they eat here, they play here, they work here, they interact here. There is a beauty in that messiness, the fallen scraps and remnants of paper from the work at hand.
There was a moment when he spoke, our President still – when he talked of this messiness and I knew in my heart just what he meant. I knew what it must have felt like to him to write those words.
This time, four years ago.
Yesterday I took the girls with me to vote. F skipped ahead up the ramp at the polling place and an older lady stopped me and said how cute she was skipping that way. I smiled and thanked her, but cute would not be the first word I would have chosen that morning. Strong. Independent. Determined. Opinionated.
And then there’s this. Fortunate.
What a gift it is to skip to the polls. What a gift it is to cast a ballot. What a gift it is to have a voice. What a gift it is that my girls can see more women each year making their voices heard.
I think of voice a lot – it is the writer in me, the reader. Not the spoken tenor of a voice, but the character of a person that comes through in the words that others use to describe them, or the words that they choose to describe themself. I think of messiness a lot as well; I often describe the messiness of life, the messiness of passions, the messiness of balance and the pursuit of balance, the messiness of comprise. The messiness of birth, the messiness of death. The messiness of a kitchen or a laundry room that means people live here, they eat here, they play here, they work here, they interact here. There is a beauty in that messiness, the fallen scraps and remnants of paper from the work at hand.
There was a moment when he spoke, our President still – when he talked of this messiness and I knew in my heart just what he meant. I knew what it must have felt like to him to write those words.
That’s why we do this. That’s what politics can be. That’s why elections matter. It’s not small, it’s big. It’s important. Democracy in a nation of 300 million can be noisy and messy and complicated. We have our own opinions. Each of us has deeply held beliefs. And when we go through tough times, when we make big decisions as a country, it necessarily stirs passions, stirs up controversy.
That won’t change after tonight, and it shouldn’t. These arguments we have are a mark of our liberty. We can never forget that as we speak people in distant nations are risking their lives right now just for a chance to argue about the issues that matter, the chance to cast their ballots like we did today.
These arguments we have are a mark of our liberty.
The work has been messy – the work to get to this table, the work to speak with our voice, the work to make a free and clear path for skipping. I tell my girls this. I want them to know.
It’s not small, it’s big.
It was a good night.
…..
Update: I was listening to All Things Considered on NPR and Melissa Block just quoted the same portion of the President’s speech, emphasizing the messiness of democracy. She then compared it with the writing of E. B. White – one of my favorite authors – and she read a portion of White’s editorial piece published in the New Yorker in 1943. The audio isn’t up yet, but I encourage you to listen to it here later tonight.
These arguments we have are a mark of our liberty.
The work has been messy – the work to get to this table, the work to speak with our voice, the work to make a free and clear path for skipping. I tell my girls this. I want them to know.
It’s not small, it’s big.
It was a good night.
…..
Update: I was listening to All Things Considered on NPR and Melissa Block just quoted the same portion of the President’s speech, emphasizing the messiness of democracy. She then compared it with the writing of E. B. White – one of my favorite authors – and she read a portion of White’s editorial piece published in the New Yorker in 1943. The audio isn’t up yet, but I encourage you to listen to it here later tonight.