Listening for Unity

Sometimes, we need to turn down the volume on the world. Candidates for the highest office in our land seem to believe we can hear them only when they are shouting. Negativity and name calling are the modus operandi.

And it's not just those running for office. I watched a segment on 60 Minutes Sunday night called "The National Mood." A CBS News/New York Times poll had found 82 percent of likely voters were more disgusted than excited about the election. So 60 Minutes asked public opinion analyst Frank Luntz to put together a focus group to talk about it. He chose 23 people representing all aspects of the political spectrum, all aspects of economic life and all age groups.

I was looking for people that could have a legitimate conversation about these presidential campaigns and not just totally smear this candidate or this candidate. And here is my problem. ... It took two minutes for them to explode. It took five minutes to actually get to the point where I lost control.

--Frank Luntz

I can relate. People on my Facebook feed have "shared" nasty things. These are people who are normally kind, compassionate people. So I've pretty much gotten to the place where I just scroll by anything and everything political. It's my version of putting my fingers in my ears and humming, "la-la-la."

Last Friday afternoon, the veterinarian got done working calves, and there was an hour before we needed to get the feeder calves into the pens for the night. We could have gone home to watch the news. But we opted for a trip to nearby Quivira National Wildlife Refuge instead.

That's not to say it was totally quiet. As we walked beside the kids' fishing pond, the mosquitoes were dive bombing and buzzing in our ears. Birds called to one another as the day faded into dusk.

But it was certainly more peaceful than listening to more political rhetoric ... or trying to get cattle to move down a lane.

Even with the unseasonably warm temperatures, I was surprised to find a few of summer's sunflowers still decorating the landscape ... while at the same time, autumn-tinged grasses captured the fading "flowers of fall" that had fallen from the trees.

Some were a little worse for the wear: They seemed battle worn, kind of like I felt after an afternoon of working cattle.

But another leaf looked unscathed. It seemed the color from the goldenrod - now dry and brown - had leached into this perfect heart-shaped leaf. See? There is beauty, even as a season fades.

We go to the polls today. And even though I would prefer different presidential candidates, I hope my votes on all candidates and issues will ultimately reflect my gratitude for this way of life.

 

Even though I'm tired of all the political posturing on the national level - and, to a lesser degree, on the state level - I'm thankful for the opportunity to vote. I will go to a Senior Center in a small town and cast my ballot. I'm not worried that someone will stop me. I'm not worried that the election is rigged.

And no matter who wins the presidential election, I pray we'll come together as a nation. Let's not leave that to somebody else. May we all be gracious in victory or in defeat. And may we come together in ways that leave no doubt that we are, indeed, the UNITED States of America.

Fort Riley Day, Bill Snyder Family Stadium, K-State, Saturday, November 5, 2016

God Bless America

Irving Berlin

While the storm clouds gather far across the sea,

Let us swear allegiance to a land that's free.

Let us all be grateful for a land so fair,

As we raise our voices in a solemn prayer:

God bless America, land that I love,

Stand beside her and guide her

Through the night with a light from above.

From the mountains, to the prairies,

To the oceans white with foam.

God Bless America

My home, sweet home!

American As Apple Pie

As a child, I remember going with my parents to vote in the tiny town of Byers, just 3 1/2 miles away from our farm home. I'm not sure I realized the significance as they disappeared behind the red, white and blue canvas curtain of the voting booth with ballot in hand. But when I reached age 18, I, too, wanted to make my vote count.

However, in all those years since, I've never been part of a caucus. Kansas' caucus have traditionally been later in the process. Each party's nominee was pretty much a foregone conclusion, so it didn't seem like it made any difference anyway.

However, this year was different. With the tally for delegates still in flux, it seemed more relevant this year. But, as I saw the line at the Reno County Republican caucus stretch for a hundred yards down the sidewalk outside the Atrium Hotel, I again wished that our house was on the other side of the county line.

According to Facebook, my friends and neighbors in Stafford County were in and out of their caucus in a matter of minutes. But in Hutchinson, cars were circling the hotel lot, trying to find a place to park. We had errands to run, so we decided to do them and come back.

The next time, the line was only a few dozen feet from the front doors. But it was deceptive. Inside, the line snaked and curved through the hotel lobby, doubling back. We were many and varied. Young parents carried babies, pushed empty strollers and tried to entertain squirming toddlers. Teens accompanying their parents on a Saturday morning, shuffled their feet as the line slowly moved, while their fingers raced and dashed over their phones.

Some senior citizens leaned against the lobby chairs and sofas for a brief respite before moving on to the next rest point. Some wore their political leanings on their sleeves with campaign T-shirts, but a lot more promoted their favorite college instead. After all, it was game day for K-State, KU and Wichita State.

It took about 45 minutes to reach the table where we handed over our driver's licenses and our voter registration records were checked. We were handed a sticker and went into a hotel ballroom, where we traded the sticker for a ballot. Once we got there, it took only a few seconds to put a pencil mark by a candidate's name and drop it in the voting box.

Brent says it only took 5 minutes in Riley County. Some caucus goers in Wichita waited 3 hours, so 45 minutes didn't seem so bad after I heard that.

 

Was it a wise use of my time? I doubt it. But at least I was part of the process. And, in a democracy, that should be celebrated.

Our trip to the caucus came as we were driving home the morning after seeing our niece, Madison, in the opera, The Consul, at K-State.

Photo from K-State Theatre

Even though we can get disillusioned by our political system in America, The Consul was a reminder of what living in a police state would be like. The opera is set in a large European city, probably in the 1930s or '40s. A freedom fighter comes home with a bullet in his leg, courtesy of the country's corrupt Secret Police. For his family's survival, he flees to a neighboring democratic country, leaving behind his wife, Magda (Madi's character), his mother and an ill baby boy.

Photo by K-State Theatre

Magda goes to the consulate to try and get exit visas for the rest of the family to join her husband and escape persecution. But the whole process is an exercise in futility and bureaucratic red tape. The show doesn't have a "feel good" happy ending.

Perhaps that glimpse of oppression gave me a little more appreciation for the political process as I stood in line on a beautiful spring morning in Hutchinson, Kansas. Flawed as it is, I can still be part of our political process.

I Vote for ... Paper

Do you want paper or plastic?

If I'm in the grocery store, I usually vote for plastic. (That's because I can carry more plastic bags at one time, saving trips to the car. However, if it's near Christmas time, I might opt for paper. Santa might need to borrow a paper sack for his special deliveries. And yes, I know I should opt for cloth bags every time ... but, I digress.)

But when it comes to exercising my constitutional right to vote, I think I'm going to have to vote paper.

After the primary election in August, I was chastising myself for not being brave and trying the new electronic voting machine at my Sylvia polling place.

I promised a faithful reader I would try the electronic ballot during the general election. And, being someone who keeps her promises, I did.

I voted at 6:30 Tuesday evening before I went to a PEO meeting in Sylvia. So you'd have thought they'd have the voting machine figured out 11 1/2 hours into the process.

But, since I was only about the second person to use it, it hadn't gotten a lot of action during the day, according to the poll workers.

"Lightly tap it with your fingernail," they suggested when I couldn't get the screen to move forward when I tapped "Next."

Oops ... Another one of my failings is revealed. No fingernails.

And no amount of tapping seemed to make the machine budge. It "talked" back with its electronic "thud," but refused to move. I tried. An election worker tried. Finally, I guess we held our mouths right and it advanced.

Each time I tried to advance to the next page, I repeated the electronic "dance" with the machine.

I did eventually get the ballot submitted, taking only three times as long as it would have if I'd used my black felt-tip pen to fill in the ovals.

I would try it again, but I also have another quibble with how the machine is positioned at the Sylvia polls. It's facing the poll workers and anybody who happens to walk in to vote.

Not that there was anyone who walked in to vote during my time there, but I still like the privacy afforded by that patriotic red, white and blue voting booth.

Randy and I covered the spectrum of voters on Tuesday. He was the third person to vote. I was the 25th to vote in our township and about the 100th person to vote overall.

Just in case you're wondering, Randy voted for paper. I'm afraid I may have to do the same next time.

Feeling Ancient

I did my patriotic duty yesterday morning. Randy and I were voters Number 6 and 7 in the tiny Reno County town of Sylvia.

For the first time, we had the option of using an electronic voting machine. And that's why I am feeling ancient.

I opted for the good, ol' paper ballot.

Then I was kicking myself.

"Man, that would have been great blogging material," I decided on my way home.

Obviously, my old-fashioned choice has not deterred me from writing about it anyway.

I was a little mad at myself, though, and I've spent way too much time reevaluating my decision to go with paper. (Note to self: Read yesterday's blog again: Will this decision matter in a year? Heck, will this decision matter in 10 minutes? Answer to self: No and no!)

But, on the other hand, it is sometimes a little difficult to trust technology in general. We've had a tractor in the shop for the past week. We have been fighting this lemon of a tractor since we got it.

And I've spent the last few days interacting with website people and trying to figure out why my computer and I are wreaking havoc on my part-time employer's website. (No answers yet.)

Even TIME magazine considered all that could go wrong before the last general election: breaking machines, crashing computers, vanishing votes? Is it any wonder I grabbed the black felt-tip pen and carefully filled in the little ovals on my crisp white paper ballot?

Also in my defense: The one electronic balloting station was out there in front of God and everybody. Not that there were a lot of people standing around waiting to vote in Sylvia, population 292.

But I like standing behind those striped red, white and blue curtains in the rickety voting booth and making my choices in private.

I did not take any photos of the electronic voting machine. I wasn't sure whether photography was allowed in the vicinity of the polling place.

And I didn't want to get yelled at by the gruff election worker. It has happened before. I simply tried to move the election book just a hair so I could sign my name more easily.

"Don't touch the book!" he shouted, acting like I was going to rip it out of his hands and tear it into shreds.

"OK, OK! Take it easy. Hey, I'm left-handed. The angle is a little different. It's discrimination, I tell you!" (That conversation was all in my head, by the way. I just smiled politely.)

While I was in the voting booth, I heard the chief election guy tell his two young counterparts that he figured most people would use the paper ballots.

Gosh, I am sure sorry to have proved him right.

But my paper ballot was swallowed into the counting machine, and I have confidence that my vote was be counted.

Isn't that what America is all about?

And it's all about freedom of speech, too. That was important to remember when I got interrupted yet again and raced to the phone for an important phone call, only to discover a sincere, recorded voice telling me for whom and how I should vote. Who knew Sarah Palin would take time to call little old me? Maybe she and I could become BFFs. (Best Friends Forever, for you non-text-messaging-people out there.) I think it would be a rather one-sided conversation if our recent interaction is any indication.

Freedom of speech is important even if it means every television ad seemed to be an attack on this candidate or the other.

Let's put it this way. Even though I am awfully glad for freedom of speech in the good ol' U.S. of A., I'm also glad we will surely get a respite from all that speech for a little bit before they have to blast each other in preparation for the November general election.

Hallelujah and God Bless America!