I like to read the newspaper with my breakfast. It's something I wasn't able to do for years because academic pursuits kept me up long into the night so that I was unable or unwilling to rise thirty minutes early for the news. But now I cherish this time to sit quietly, catch up on the happenings of civilization, and prepare myself for the day.
The problem is that my city doesn't have a morning paper. The Sacramento Bee and the San Francisco Chronicle are both available to me, but I don't take either one because I don't live in Sacramento or San Francisco. In addition to national and international news, I like to keep abreast of my own neighborhood. A local paper is great for that. It helps me feel like I am part of the community. And our paper, which has a long and distinguished history, generally picks up most of the key stories from the news services as well, so I am not left out of the bigger picture. Unfortunately, this paper is an afternoon paper, a fact I have lamented frequently. It is already a day behind, and I have already become familiar with most of the major news stories when I sit down to the paper the next morning.
However, yesterday I had cause to be happy about the paper's distribution time. I trotted out to the driveway at around 6:00 pm to collect the paper and read on the front page that Bill Clinton would be speaking on campus that very night. I had heard nothing of this prior to this headline because the campaign stop was apparently a last-minute decision for Clinton. Had I not had an afternoon paper, I would certainly have missed it entirely.
I hurried in to tell DW about it, and we decided to go hear the former president speak. In addition to wanting to see him in his own right, he was stumping for his wife, and with the CA primary rapidly approaching, we were eager to hear what he had to say about her.
The event was scheduled for 9:00, and the doors for the venue, which is within sight of our house, were slated to open at 8:15. We departed at 7:00 and felt sure that even though there would certainly be a long line, we would be able to get in.
We were wrong. I've never seen a line this long. We walked, and we walked... and we walked, but the linear feet of people was unbelievable. It circled around the building, the adjacent soccer field, the campus recreation center, and lined the sidewalk along the street behind. It was apparent to us pretty quickly that we would not be admitted. The venue could not possibly hold this many people. And they were still streaming in.
Most of them were students, and I found myself surprised and excited that so many of them had turned out. Sure Clinton is a celebrity, and that's cool and all. But this was thousands upon thousands of students. It was cold and incredibly windy. Some of them had been waiting for hours... or four hours, as I read today. "Wow! This is great!" I thought. "They care. They actually care enough to overcome their self-centeredness, break out of their apathetic cynicism to show up and engage in our political process, even though it is uncomfortable and inconvenient."
But then, as we kept walking by them, I began to notice that they were just having a grand ole time. This was an enormous party for them. Everyone was there; they were laughing and horse-playing, talking on their cell phones, and being incredibly moronic. In other words, this was not a divergence from normal college student activity. They were really there because it was something to do in a city that doesn't offer them much. It was an excuse to congregate and act crazy, and they could pretend that they were being responsible, informed citizens at the same time. It was a win-win for them.
It will be interesting to see if even half of them care enough to vote by the time the election actually comes in November.
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Well, I don't know. Couldn't they have been moronic in their dorm rooms, their apartments, the local pub, the move theatre... I mean. Someplace more convenient? If they line was that long, I can't imagine just standing in silence myself. I'd probably get a little goofy myself, as I am wont to do.
I'm not saying your assessment isn't generally accurate — it probably was for the most part, and I wasn't there to judge for myself — but it's my understanding that a record number of people (particularly young people) are turning up at the polls, filing last minute registrations to vote, etc. It's still a disappointing minority in comparison to the number of people who actually qualify to vote, but a recent record all the same.
People are actually excited — even the morons. But, hey, they have a say too.
We have a black dude and a white chick running, both of whom stand a pretty good chance of winning. It's exciting.
Well, that's sorta my point. I fear that this is merely "excitement," a flash in the pan, a break from monotony. They stood in line rather than sitting in their dorms because it presented something different to an ADHD population. And the fact that it made them feel like they were involved in something political and serious could offer a placebo to a group that is indoctrinated with a sense that they SHOULD be doing something, even though they really don't WANT to. It's a get out of guilt free card, and all it cost them was a little standing around with their friends, something they like to do anyway. It didn't smell like earnest interest.
Will it last the months until the election? I hope so... but to quote Gandalf, "it was never more than a fool's hope."
Perhaps it won't last till the election, but the eternal optimist in me says it doesn't matter if it actually translates to voting in the next election. The experience will have had an effect on them.
If parenting has taught me one thing, it's that you can't always see the long term effect of any particular event. Take my eldest daughter's seeming inability to be ANYWHERE on time during her high school years. We talked, we grounded, we talked more. I finally accepted that my daughter may be one of those chronically late people. But you know what? Several years later, she started getting herself places on time. It didn't show then, but it does now.
So maybe those students in that line won't even vote this time. But the sense that they were a part of something will be a memory that will affect them sometime in the future. How it will is impossible to tell. But when you're part of something that seems that big, you don't forget it. And maybe down the road one of them will enter politics themselves in part because of the experience. So don't give up hope. Some of them will never do another political thing in their lives. Some will vote this election who wouldn't have otherwise. And some won't do anything about it for many years.
I prefer to think that such events can inspire years later, and I'll keep that Pollyana view of the world for as long as my daughter keeps showing up places on time.
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