Tonight I graduate from the Urban Gardening course that I've been taking the last few months. We've covered everything from "What is a plant?" to "How best to fertilize" to "Can you put human feces in your compost bin?" (answer to that last one is a resounding NO!). It's been a very interesting class. **For any Lansing-ites out there who are interested in the course, the Allen Neighborhood Center will be offering it again in February** Now that I'll have graduated, I just have to complete 40 hours of volunteer service staffing the community greenhouse where the course is taught. So far, the staffing has been pretty easy (harvesting basil seeds, conducting a cooking demonstration); I wanted to start getting my staffing hours over with sooner rather than later since my belly will eventually make bending and stooping a little difficult.
Yesterday, I had my first prenatal appointment with a doctor. I got the good ole heist-ya-legs-up-now-scoot-down-okay-gnash-teeth examination. Everything (so far) checked out, and I also got to hear Wee Willie's heartbeat on the Doppler machine. It was clocking a steady 165 beats per minute, fast and strong and good. S/he "swam" around quite a bit, evidently trying to avoid the loud sounds from the Doppler, so the nurse had to move the radar around to find the little tyke. The nurse (Angie, I absolutely adore her) told me she could already see and feel my "baby bump" which I've been looking for for about a week now but can't quite locate. It's like in the prepubescent novel "Are you there God? It's me, Margaret" when the title character (Margaret, not God) is hoping and wishing for breasts that haven't arrived yet. But I figure if Angie can see and feel the bump, it'll only be a matter of time before I will, too.
Several people have asked me how Adam is doing out in Virginia, and he is just fabulous. We speak everyday, and I have to hand it to him, he's being everything that I need him to be in terms of being the geographically-distant-husband-and-father-to-be. He's excited, concerned, caring and misty-voiced at all the right times. He's a little homesick, but they've got him so busy between running several miles every morning and going through classes that he doesn't have a lot of time to think about it. I'm sure that Miss Kika staying with Dad for the next several months will alleviate any sadness he's got, though. I can't wait to spend Thanksgiving week with him and the family, and then Adam will come down this way for Xmas.
So....lots going on. Now I just have to decide where exactly I'll be placing those tassels tonight.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Friday, November 14, 2008
Explanation
I was gently informed last night by my Adam that not everyone "gets" why I've been referring to the baby as Wee Willie. While I of all people should have recognized the potential for dirty jokes at the kid's (or my) expense, I was happily absorbed in memories of one of my favorite childhood nursery rhymes. Wee Willie Winkie is a classic English nursery rhyme about the guy who runs around town (kind of like the town crier) making sure to let parents know that it's bedtime for their kids. I always loved that rhyme, especially because the book that I read it in was published by Disney, so the illustration next to the rhyme was Goofy running around an old English town in his bedclothes (complete with a nightcap!). For anyone who is not familiar with this rhyme, I thought I'd post it here so maybe you, too, can appreciate why I like it. Now imagine a very exasperated Goofy running up and down long flights of stairs and knocking on doors.
Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Up stairs and down stairs in his night-gown,
Tapping at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the children in their bed, for it's past eight o'clock?"
"Hey, Willie Winkie, are you coming in?
The cat is singing purring sounds to the sleeping hen,
The dog's spread out on the floor, and doesn't give a cheep,
But here's a wakeful little boy who will not fall asleep!"
Anything but sleep, you rogue! glowering like the moon,
Rattling in an iron jug with an iron spoon,
Rumbling, tumbling round about, crowing like a cock,
Shrieking like I don't know what, waking sleeping folk.
"Hey, Willie Winkie - the child's in a creel!
Wriggling from everyone's knee like an eel,
Tugging at the cat's ear, and confusing all her thrums
Hey, Willie Winkie - see, there he comes!"
Weary is the mother who has a dusty child,
A small short little child, who can't run on his own,
Who always has a battle with sleep before he'll close an eye
But a kiss from his rosy lips gives strength anew to me.
Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Up stairs and down stairs in his night-gown,
Tapping at the window, crying at the lock,
"Are the children in their bed, for it's past eight o'clock?"
"Hey, Willie Winkie, are you coming in?
The cat is singing purring sounds to the sleeping hen,
The dog's spread out on the floor, and doesn't give a cheep,
But here's a wakeful little boy who will not fall asleep!"
Anything but sleep, you rogue! glowering like the moon,
Rattling in an iron jug with an iron spoon,
Rumbling, tumbling round about, crowing like a cock,
Shrieking like I don't know what, waking sleeping folk.
"Hey, Willie Winkie - the child's in a creel!
Wriggling from everyone's knee like an eel,
Tugging at the cat's ear, and confusing all her thrums
Hey, Willie Winkie - see, there he comes!"
Weary is the mother who has a dusty child,
A small short little child, who can't run on his own,
Who always has a battle with sleep before he'll close an eye
But a kiss from his rosy lips gives strength anew to me.
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Mantras, Musings & Medleys
Let's start off with some mantras:
2008 Election: "Yes We Can!" (or, "Si! Se Puede!", or "Ja, Wir Koennen!", or "Da!, Mui Hochum!)
2008 "Little Economy That Could": "I think I can! I think I can!"
1996 Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team: "You can do it! You better do it!" ala Bela Karolyi
Lauren getting up in the morning: "You should do it. You can do it. You need to do it...In thirty more minutes."
Musings:
I've kind of kept my opinions to myself regarding the election, so as to let a little time go by before offending anyone's still-raw battle wounds. However, in true Lauren style, I have no (as Ads would say) "inner monologue" so I'm throwing in my two cents.
As I stated several months ago, I was (and still am) a Hilary Clinton supporter. However, once the primaries started to go the way of Obama, I tentatively got on board the Barack Obama shuttle to "Change." But I kept waiting to hear what that change was going to be. As I contiued to wait, I decided to take a look at John McCain, veteran, POW, statesman, and yes, man-with-at-least-seven-houses. I started to kind of like McCain--he doesn't lean very far to the right, making him more of the centrist that I could live with for a president; he certainly had political experience and military knowledge; and I had always felt bad for the dude who seemed like a regular nice guy who got screwed over by the Bush-Rove campaigning strategies of 2000. I started to think that maybe this would be McCain's year to shine, and that maybe I could get on board with that. I mean, I didn't agree with him on everything--gay marriage, abortion rights, war in Iraq---but I didn't agree with Obama on everything, either. I was definitely in a bit of a quandry in the months before the conventions. But then a huge thing happened that sealed the deal. Actually, TWO huge things happened. McCain, against his own better judgement, picked Sarah Palin as his running mate. Okay, so he's going for the woman vote here, I get that. But the more I heard her talk (or fumble, stumble, ramble, or whatever other nonsensical thing she was doing), the more I couldn't figure why on earth she would have been chosen. It made me really question McCain's judgement, when he had a)Lieberman, his actual first choice, or b) many other qualified, right-leaning female Republicans to choose from. The Palin thing immediately turned me off as a potential supporter; actually, I feel selecting her as a running mate for the Vice Presidency is an affront to all women. We're supposed to be grateful or happy that he selected a woman, even if she can't even conduct an interview, much less be a worthy match during the debates? It was embarassing, only made much more so by Tina Fey's hilarious impressions on SNL. The other huge thing that changed my mind was McCain's political tactics. The same guy who decried the Rove-isms of the 2000 primaries (remember that rumor that McCain had fathered a black child somewhere?) was using the same tactics on Obama. Only he was using Sarah Palin as the "bad cop" to do his dirty work for him. All the "Barack Hussein! Obama" references, exaggerated ties between Obama and Bill Ayers, and lies to the public about Obama wanting sex ed classes for 5-year olds (in actuality, it was a program to keep children from being kidnapped by child predators), not supporting nuclear energy and then implying that Obama is not part of the "real America" (then what the hell am I??); it was too much. I looked at Obama, who while not all puppies and fudge, never sank to the lows that McCain did; there was a certain amount of change about him. And the substance from him that I'd been waiting for came through during the debates, when he not only held his own, but at times blew McCain out of the water. While Obama was talking about real issues, McCain and Palin were still talking about Bill Ayers. By the last two months of the campaign, the choice for me was obvious. Nothing personal, it's just politics.
Medleys:
Weird stories now. First, I had a really weird dream last night that a very parental figure in my life (who shall remain nameless for the sake of my relationship with him/her) performed a lumpectomy on my left breast. I guess I had a benign or malignant lump and it needed to come out. Instead of going to the hospital, however, I allowed this person to do an at-home surgery, and then I went shopping. I started to get worried, though, when I started to notice that my left breast no longer lined up with my right breast. I remember being worried about what Adam would think.
Second weird story; I just heard this at lunch. One of my coworkers was recounting a story about a scientific conference she attended several years ago when she was in her mid-20s. She was just about to give her talk, when she went to the refreshment table to get a cup of coffee. As she was fixing her cup, an older man sidled up next to her and asked her to hold out her hands. When she asked why, he just told her to hold out her hands, so (in the good spirit of science and professionalism) she did. He took her hands and said, "Wow, they are so smooth. I would have expected them to be much more calloused after what I saw you doing on that pole last night." She just looked at him, too stunned by his implication to say anything. She went to give her 20-minute talk, her mind reeling the whole time with the knowledge that some guy had just suggested she was a pole dancer, as if she'd be flattered, despite the fact that she was a successful scientist.
And finally, THANKS. Thanks to all the family and friends who have been reaching out to Adam and me as we go through yet another separation, and the seemingly unpredictable events of my first pregnancy. We are very grateful to everyone for your kindness, thoughtfulness and caring, and we look forward to keeping you all "in the know" as each milestone of the next several months brings more news.
So Thanks. Gracias. Vielen Dank. Spacibo.
2008 Election: "Yes We Can!" (or, "Si! Se Puede!", or "Ja, Wir Koennen!", or "Da!, Mui Hochum!)
2008 "Little Economy That Could": "I think I can! I think I can!"
1996 Women's Olympic Gymnastics Team: "You can do it! You better do it!" ala Bela Karolyi
Lauren getting up in the morning: "You should do it. You can do it. You need to do it...In thirty more minutes."
Musings:
I've kind of kept my opinions to myself regarding the election, so as to let a little time go by before offending anyone's still-raw battle wounds. However, in true Lauren style, I have no (as Ads would say) "inner monologue" so I'm throwing in my two cents.
As I stated several months ago, I was (and still am) a Hilary Clinton supporter. However, once the primaries started to go the way of Obama, I tentatively got on board the Barack Obama shuttle to "Change." But I kept waiting to hear what that change was going to be. As I contiued to wait, I decided to take a look at John McCain, veteran, POW, statesman, and yes, man-with-at-least-seven-houses. I started to kind of like McCain--he doesn't lean very far to the right, making him more of the centrist that I could live with for a president; he certainly had political experience and military knowledge; and I had always felt bad for the dude who seemed like a regular nice guy who got screwed over by the Bush-Rove campaigning strategies of 2000. I started to think that maybe this would be McCain's year to shine, and that maybe I could get on board with that. I mean, I didn't agree with him on everything--gay marriage, abortion rights, war in Iraq---but I didn't agree with Obama on everything, either. I was definitely in a bit of a quandry in the months before the conventions. But then a huge thing happened that sealed the deal. Actually, TWO huge things happened. McCain, against his own better judgement, picked Sarah Palin as his running mate. Okay, so he's going for the woman vote here, I get that. But the more I heard her talk (or fumble, stumble, ramble, or whatever other nonsensical thing she was doing), the more I couldn't figure why on earth she would have been chosen. It made me really question McCain's judgement, when he had a)Lieberman, his actual first choice, or b) many other qualified, right-leaning female Republicans to choose from. The Palin thing immediately turned me off as a potential supporter; actually, I feel selecting her as a running mate for the Vice Presidency is an affront to all women. We're supposed to be grateful or happy that he selected a woman, even if she can't even conduct an interview, much less be a worthy match during the debates? It was embarassing, only made much more so by Tina Fey's hilarious impressions on SNL. The other huge thing that changed my mind was McCain's political tactics. The same guy who decried the Rove-isms of the 2000 primaries (remember that rumor that McCain had fathered a black child somewhere?) was using the same tactics on Obama. Only he was using Sarah Palin as the "bad cop" to do his dirty work for him. All the "Barack Hussein! Obama" references, exaggerated ties between Obama and Bill Ayers, and lies to the public about Obama wanting sex ed classes for 5-year olds (in actuality, it was a program to keep children from being kidnapped by child predators), not supporting nuclear energy and then implying that Obama is not part of the "real America" (then what the hell am I??); it was too much. I looked at Obama, who while not all puppies and fudge, never sank to the lows that McCain did; there was a certain amount of change about him. And the substance from him that I'd been waiting for came through during the debates, when he not only held his own, but at times blew McCain out of the water. While Obama was talking about real issues, McCain and Palin were still talking about Bill Ayers. By the last two months of the campaign, the choice for me was obvious. Nothing personal, it's just politics.
Medleys:
Weird stories now. First, I had a really weird dream last night that a very parental figure in my life (who shall remain nameless for the sake of my relationship with him/her) performed a lumpectomy on my left breast. I guess I had a benign or malignant lump and it needed to come out. Instead of going to the hospital, however, I allowed this person to do an at-home surgery, and then I went shopping. I started to get worried, though, when I started to notice that my left breast no longer lined up with my right breast. I remember being worried about what Adam would think.
Second weird story; I just heard this at lunch. One of my coworkers was recounting a story about a scientific conference she attended several years ago when she was in her mid-20s. She was just about to give her talk, when she went to the refreshment table to get a cup of coffee. As she was fixing her cup, an older man sidled up next to her and asked her to hold out her hands. When she asked why, he just told her to hold out her hands, so (in the good spirit of science and professionalism) she did. He took her hands and said, "Wow, they are so smooth. I would have expected them to be much more calloused after what I saw you doing on that pole last night." She just looked at him, too stunned by his implication to say anything. She went to give her 20-minute talk, her mind reeling the whole time with the knowledge that some guy had just suggested she was a pole dancer, as if she'd be flattered, despite the fact that she was a successful scientist.
And finally, THANKS. Thanks to all the family and friends who have been reaching out to Adam and me as we go through yet another separation, and the seemingly unpredictable events of my first pregnancy. We are very grateful to everyone for your kindness, thoughtfulness and caring, and we look forward to keeping you all "in the know" as each milestone of the next several months brings more news.
So Thanks. Gracias. Vielen Dank. Spacibo.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Well, Rested
So, this weekend was the sort of weekend I dream about---sleeping in, doing nothing, sleeping some more, making steaming cup after steaming cup of hot chocolate (the milk kind, not water), and then sleeping some more before watching really bad tv. But, despite living out my dream weekend (I tell you, ASOLUTELY NOTHING productive occurred, a true dream), I was pretty bummed. A lot of that sleeping was really my bummed-out response to missing Ads. It was a pretty overwhelming feeling, the amount of aching in my chest knowing that he was gone, far enough away that I couldn't just drive to see him, but close enough that I felt a little whiny and self-absorbed for feeling sorry for myself. So of course, the feelings of guilt just intensified my blue status. *sigh*
I did do a couple of productive things. Friday night I went out on the town with my galpal and super hot chick friend Sarah; she had two tickets to a benefit folk concert, which I was way overdressed for (think miniskirt, silk blouse and knee-high boots in a sea of jeans and t-shirts), but we rocked on. Well, it was folksy, so actually we clapped a lot and snapped our fingers as couples danced by us in a whirlwind, but it was great. Afterward, I took full advantage of my new lease on appetite and hit our local (and very hippie) Fleetwood Diner for some grub. Chowed down on spinach pie, fries and clam chowder, only to find that I had lost my appetite, so I got it all to go, then ran over (per Sarah's late-night insistence) to Schuler's bookstore to find the ultimate in baby name books. We were gleeful and giggly, and it made me a little misty-eyed for the fact that these spur-of-the-moment outings with the gals will come to a close once Wee Willie enters the scene. No doubt s/he will come with a whole new set of adventures that I will love and cherish, but there's just something about your girl time. Sarah promised me, however, that we will still have girl time, just in a whole new way. I'm holding her to it.
Saturday I vegged. I honestly don't really remember much of what I did. I volunteered at the local greenhouse for a couple hours, and picked up some groceries. But Saturday was cruelly and impolitely cold and windy and so I holed up in the house (yes, with hot chocolate). Yesterday was my complete day-of-do-nothing, although I did manage to run out for a crueller (aka twist donut for all you midwesterners) and had brunch with Mrs. Gonzales and Kika. Sunday evening I made a big pot of soup so my potatoes didn't go to waste. So while I was a complete waste this weekend, I wasn't an UTTER and complete waste.
Today is a new day. I have a new lease on life, if not my appetite. Morning (or all-day) sickness has found its way back to my stomach so the big pot of soup that's waiting for me tonight might have to wait a bit longer. However, I did manage to make a command decision in the midst of my blueness this weekend: I am not waiting until Xmas to see my man. So I splurged today and bought a ticket to see him during Thanksgiving. Even better, I splurged even more so that Kika can come with me; I think she'll stay in Virginia with Adam for awhile to give her joints a break from the Michigan cold, to give Adam a break from homesickness, and to give me a break from having two kids to take care of. As my lameness this weekend has proven, it's hard enough for me to take care of me.
I did do a couple of productive things. Friday night I went out on the town with my galpal and super hot chick friend Sarah; she had two tickets to a benefit folk concert, which I was way overdressed for (think miniskirt, silk blouse and knee-high boots in a sea of jeans and t-shirts), but we rocked on. Well, it was folksy, so actually we clapped a lot and snapped our fingers as couples danced by us in a whirlwind, but it was great. Afterward, I took full advantage of my new lease on appetite and hit our local (and very hippie) Fleetwood Diner for some grub. Chowed down on spinach pie, fries and clam chowder, only to find that I had lost my appetite, so I got it all to go, then ran over (per Sarah's late-night insistence) to Schuler's bookstore to find the ultimate in baby name books. We were gleeful and giggly, and it made me a little misty-eyed for the fact that these spur-of-the-moment outings with the gals will come to a close once Wee Willie enters the scene. No doubt s/he will come with a whole new set of adventures that I will love and cherish, but there's just something about your girl time. Sarah promised me, however, that we will still have girl time, just in a whole new way. I'm holding her to it.
Saturday I vegged. I honestly don't really remember much of what I did. I volunteered at the local greenhouse for a couple hours, and picked up some groceries. But Saturday was cruelly and impolitely cold and windy and so I holed up in the house (yes, with hot chocolate). Yesterday was my complete day-of-do-nothing, although I did manage to run out for a crueller (aka twist donut for all you midwesterners) and had brunch with Mrs. Gonzales and Kika. Sunday evening I made a big pot of soup so my potatoes didn't go to waste. So while I was a complete waste this weekend, I wasn't an UTTER and complete waste.
Today is a new day. I have a new lease on life, if not my appetite. Morning (or all-day) sickness has found its way back to my stomach so the big pot of soup that's waiting for me tonight might have to wait a bit longer. However, I did manage to make a command decision in the midst of my blueness this weekend: I am not waiting until Xmas to see my man. So I splurged today and bought a ticket to see him during Thanksgiving. Even better, I splurged even more so that Kika can come with me; I think she'll stay in Virginia with Adam for awhile to give her joints a break from the Michigan cold, to give Adam a break from homesickness, and to give me a break from having two kids to take care of. As my lameness this weekend has proven, it's hard enough for me to take care of me.
Friday, November 7, 2008
To Every Season...
Don't be afraid, it's still the same blog you know. Just thought I'd mix things up a bit now that we're well into fall. Only seemed appropriate; besides, I get sick of things easily and the seaside theme was starting to wear on me.
Happy Friday everyone!
Happy Friday everyone!
Apols and Oranges
So, apologies to all the friends and family members to whom I have not called, written or otherwise contacted in the last several weeks/months. I could use the "life is so busy" excuse, or the "pregnancy and being alone is leaving me so overwhelmed" excuse, both of which would be true. However, I'll just say that even the idea of picking up the phone to speak to anyone other than Adam, my mother or sister these days has just been too exhausting. Any of my very lovely friends that I need to catch up with would require at least a good two hour conversation to do all of the appropriate catching-up, and I just don't feel it in my bones these days. Sorry.
Oranges are the sweet news for this week, which is that I was offered a promotion at my job! Yeay! My coworker is leaving in a month's time to start a position elsewhere, so my boss needs me to pick up a bit where she is leaving off. This also means, of course, that I will not be leaving Michigan as planned. Adam and I realized that it would be more stressful than necessary for me to try to follow him as the military moves him from Virginia to Georgia over the next few months; besides, once he's in Georgia, he'll be doing field exercises that might keep him away for days at a time, so I might not see him much anyway. Add to that, all the doctors I'd have to transition through and not having any friends...So, I will stay in our nice little house for the duration, surrounded by Mrs. Gonzales ("I'm going to measure your belly every week, girl!") and the motley crew of other wonderful friends we have here in the mitten.
In other news, my sister called me yesterday to ask if I'd be opposed to my baby wearing blue if it turned out to be a girl...does my sister not know me at all?? I then informed her that all the baby clothes that I've received so far are from my friends who have twin boys; therefore, if Ads and I have a girl, she's going to be wearing loads of blue, even if the onesies says "Mommy's Little Boy". Free is free, after all. My sister says I'm going to give the kid a complex. Oh well.
Right, then. I guess that's all for now. Oh, yeah, well, just to brag (like George Castanza did about his parking mojo), I scored really big at Kroger yesterday. I went in to get a bag salad for dinner. I came out over an hour later, loaded down with crazy deals on yogurt, yogurt and more yogurt. Literally, I paid 10 cents for a yogurt cup yesterday. I hope it's not moldy inside.
Oranges are the sweet news for this week, which is that I was offered a promotion at my job! Yeay! My coworker is leaving in a month's time to start a position elsewhere, so my boss needs me to pick up a bit where she is leaving off. This also means, of course, that I will not be leaving Michigan as planned. Adam and I realized that it would be more stressful than necessary for me to try to follow him as the military moves him from Virginia to Georgia over the next few months; besides, once he's in Georgia, he'll be doing field exercises that might keep him away for days at a time, so I might not see him much anyway. Add to that, all the doctors I'd have to transition through and not having any friends...So, I will stay in our nice little house for the duration, surrounded by Mrs. Gonzales ("I'm going to measure your belly every week, girl!") and the motley crew of other wonderful friends we have here in the mitten.
In other news, my sister called me yesterday to ask if I'd be opposed to my baby wearing blue if it turned out to be a girl...does my sister not know me at all?? I then informed her that all the baby clothes that I've received so far are from my friends who have twin boys; therefore, if Ads and I have a girl, she's going to be wearing loads of blue, even if the onesies says "Mommy's Little Boy". Free is free, after all. My sister says I'm going to give the kid a complex. Oh well.
Right, then. I guess that's all for now. Oh, yeah, well, just to brag (like George Castanza did about his parking mojo), I scored really big at Kroger yesterday. I went in to get a bag salad for dinner. I came out over an hour later, loaded down with crazy deals on yogurt, yogurt and more yogurt. Literally, I paid 10 cents for a yogurt cup yesterday. I hope it's not moldy inside.
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Election Day Reflection
Call me Sophia Petrillo (look that reference up if you don't get it).
Picture it: November 1980, a small suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. It was a cool, dark evening, sometime after dinner. My parents led my brother, sister and me down the back streets of our neighborhood to a house with a short line waiting outside. Once inside, surroundings were tight and cramped. I kept asking my mother what we were doing there. She kept telling me to hush, that she'd explain later. When we were back outside, on the walk home, I attempted my question one more time. She said, "Your father and I just voted for the next president." I didn't really know what that meant, but since my nickname wasn't Brenda Starr by accident, I decided to ask some follow-up questions. What is voting? What does the president do? Who did they vote for? Getting the answers to these (at the time) monumental questions was a turning point in my childhood understanding of the world. It was just a few weeks later during bathtime that my mother explained to me the idea of a "new year"; it was unfathomable to me that when 1981 hit, 1980 was gone for good.
This morning, 28 years later, I waited in line for over an hour to cast my own secret ballot. I looked around me at all of my neighbors and fellow citizens who were risking a late arrival at work, a missed bus or appointment for the sake of having their vote counted. It was amazing. In the past, Ads and I have waited 5 minutes at the most to pass through the poll booth. This morning, the line wrapped around and still trickled outside the front door. Today had a cool, late-summerish feel to the morning, and most people seemed to be in good spirits as they waited diligently for their turn at the ballot box. I heard a few people echo my thoughts of the pride they felt by the high voter turnout today. Right before leaving my ballot box, I took one last significant look at the ballot and then slipped it into the ballot machine.
So, whatever your affiliation, whoever you cast your vote for, congratulations and many thanks for taking part in this most historic of elections. You did the entire nation some good today.
Rock the vote!
Picture it: November 1980, a small suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. It was a cool, dark evening, sometime after dinner. My parents led my brother, sister and me down the back streets of our neighborhood to a house with a short line waiting outside. Once inside, surroundings were tight and cramped. I kept asking my mother what we were doing there. She kept telling me to hush, that she'd explain later. When we were back outside, on the walk home, I attempted my question one more time. She said, "Your father and I just voted for the next president." I didn't really know what that meant, but since my nickname wasn't Brenda Starr by accident, I decided to ask some follow-up questions. What is voting? What does the president do? Who did they vote for? Getting the answers to these (at the time) monumental questions was a turning point in my childhood understanding of the world. It was just a few weeks later during bathtime that my mother explained to me the idea of a "new year"; it was unfathomable to me that when 1981 hit, 1980 was gone for good.
This morning, 28 years later, I waited in line for over an hour to cast my own secret ballot. I looked around me at all of my neighbors and fellow citizens who were risking a late arrival at work, a missed bus or appointment for the sake of having their vote counted. It was amazing. In the past, Ads and I have waited 5 minutes at the most to pass through the poll booth. This morning, the line wrapped around and still trickled outside the front door. Today had a cool, late-summerish feel to the morning, and most people seemed to be in good spirits as they waited diligently for their turn at the ballot box. I heard a few people echo my thoughts of the pride they felt by the high voter turnout today. Right before leaving my ballot box, I took one last significant look at the ballot and then slipped it into the ballot machine.
So, whatever your affiliation, whoever you cast your vote for, congratulations and many thanks for taking part in this most historic of elections. You did the entire nation some good today.
Rock the vote!
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