Published: May 07, 2008 01:36 pm         

A day we realize where we live

There are fall days, vacation days, sick days, personal days, holidays, summer days, good days and graduation days.

Once in a while, there are American days. You know them as the days you remember where you were when something happened — an attack on Pearl Harbor, the assassination of JFK, the fall of the World Trade Center or even the last episode of “M*A*S*H.”

Those are American days that suddenly jerk us back into the reality of where we live, who we are and what we’re all about — or what other people in other lands think we’re all about.

Tuesday was one of those days in Indiana. When the rest of the world was out planting, going to school, working on an assembly line or climbing a mountain, we took a few minutes to stand in line and vote. Some were late for work. Some took off early. Some took long lunch hours. Some took their children with them to the polls as one Logansport attorney did Tuesday morning.

But the point is they came — they took the time to care and make their opinions known in a way that is as time-tested as anything in this country or any other.

When you think about it, it’s remarkable how it all comes together in such a short time. What’s also remarkable is how much money and time are spent on the decisions we make in one day during those few minutes we spend in the voting booth.

I’ve covered many elections as a reporter and voted in several locations. What is interesting about the process as an observer is that people exercise their rights in many ways on this day. Some are happy the day has finally come. Some come quickly, and even angrily into the polls. Those who come all have a reason for being there, and inevitably some walk grumpily out of the polls while a cheerful poll voter thanks them, presumably for supporting their candidate.

When it’s over, there is a certain reverence about the process if you”’re waiting in a clerk’s office for the returns to come down to the last vote.

If you’ve ever been to a recount, and I have, there is a certain seriousness that is not like anything else. It’s a quiet time when there is no cheering or speeches. You sense that everyone in the room is holding their breath.

I can think of many elections for everything from school board to Congress in the last 25 years in Indiana that were decided by just a handful of votes.

For that reason, I’ll keep on voting as long as I’m eligible.

If you’ve ever seen an elderly woman in the back seat of a car in the courthouse parking lot casting her vote, you realize how important it is to some people.

If you’ve ever waited behind a voter who can’t see well, but labors to look over the ballot to find every candidate, you realize how much they care about the process.

If you’ve ever watched deputies in the clerk’s office work with computers, poll workers and candidates simultaneously, you realize what a difficult job they have when jobs are literally on the line, even for their own superiors.

It’s ironic that some jobs on the ballot pay less than the candidates themselves spend just to have the job. But that underscores how important the positions, or the decisions made by people in those positions, are to many people. If they weren’t, we wouldn’t have lobbyists and political action committees. But we probably always will have them, and if that’s the alternative to no elections at all, I’ll take it.

Primary Election Days can be fairly ordinary most of the time. But there are days such as May 6 when primaries aren’t like any other day.

Finally, think about this fact for a moment. Soon, the Congress in Cuba will be convened by its new president, Raul Castro. It will mark the first time in 11 years the body has met. Now think what your city, your schools, your county, your state and your nation would be like if your government hadn’t been functioning for more than a decade. Anarchists might claim that would be a great thing. Harsh critics can claim government has probably done little in 11 years. Somewhere in between, the rest of us are glad we have a chance to send a message every two, four or six years.

Dave Kitchell is a columnist for the Pharos-Tribune. He can be reached through the newspaper at ptnews@pharostribune.com