Election Day, 2012
Election Day, 2012
Michael Sortomme © 2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
Contention was promised and delivered pre and post Hurricane Sandy. The country’s core divisions based on race and religion did not bode well, pre-election, especially for a pro-labor liberal democrat, one who had never bowed to religious convention. Romney’s reality had spun in my head for months and escalated to dizziness when Paul Ryan signed his allegiance with Romney, becoming the radically pro-life Vice-Presidential candidate. I was freshly out of college when Row VS Wade was voted into law; I knew the horrors of abortions gone wrong and the guilt of bringing children into a world that did not expect or want them; my friends suffered in the 1960’s and 70’s, when men rarely took responsibility for their mishaps. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood was becoming a looming reality. The thought of these men, who had such cavalier attitudes toward women, minorities, the poor, dictating our Nation’s laws was frightening. The race was 50-50, anyone’s game…
I stood in front of our house, early on Election Day, surveying the property, relishing the newly finished yard work. The Pole, what would its future be? Mark and I planted the twenty foot tall lavender Peace Pole with the word PEACE painted in green in thirteen languages. It took days painting letter by letter, using words I could not pronounce. When the US invaded Afghanistan, we felt there was need to stand for a political goal, wanting to take our thoughts out of our heads and manifest them in a new form, one that could be seen and heard. Ten years later, the Pole is developing cracks, its bent slightly to the East, crooked. The words have faded slightly, but its copper top still shone and people take precious time to watch and feel it, as part of their walking routines. The Pole clashed with the garden, the house, the neighborhood; the small town inhabitants viewed us as entertaining, vestiges of a lost age. But, it expressed who we were then, and still are—a decade later—holding space for PEACE, all day, every day.
If a political team, hell-bent to stop all “entitlement” payments to the poor, desiring to eliminate public education and abortion, curb the ways in which women obtain birth control, stop national healthcare from manifesting, how far would they take their perceived power? Who would they imprison, what would they illegalize, what Supreme Court Justices would they put in place for life? The questions were endless: a Mormon and a Catholic dictating family values for 360,000,000 people. Would we be persecuted for having rainbow stickers on the front window? For having reincarnation bumper stickers: Born Again & Again & Again….? And, our favorite: “The last time religion and politics mixed, people were burned at the stake.” Okay, in this country in 1692, the Puritans lynched their non-believers, but you get the point… How would we fair with militant conservatives in power? Would we be forced from our own country, from our home? It had happened a million times before, on almost every continent, people forced from their comfort, from everything they knew and loved, driven to unknown ports of exile. Just how bad would it get?
I had not missed a federal election in 38 years, casting my first ballot for Jimmy Carter in the 1970’s. Weathered the Reagan years by leaving the country, survived the Bushes and even grew to respect Old Man Bush, especially since he had hung with good old Bill Clinton, from time to time. All those experiences seemed to blur, becoming less important than the NOW, as I stood sighing in front of our yellow house.
A fervent voter, dedicated to make my mark, regardless of the possibility of fraud or worst yet, bad choices, I had never been a fan of the Electoral College, not until November 6, 2012, yesterday. We expected a long night, listening to endless pundits pontificating bullshit. But, by about 10 PM, PST, the networks called the election, called Obama the winner, the intellectual democrats were reelected for a second term. In a state of disbelief, I sat in my mini-throne, warm in my turquoise blanket until 4 AM, waiting for a snafu, any blunder to surface. None came, but security was still illusive, as was sleep. By 9 AM, the election was secured; both public and electoral votes were in Obama and Biden’s favor.
Still sighing, smiling widely, some eight hours later, I gaze out my studio window and catch the last rays of gentle Fall light bounce off the copper-topped Peace Pole. Nope, no need to move to another country, or hide our politics or faith—we are free to be ourselves, for the time being, standing for PEACE, the best way we know how.
Michael Sortomme © 2012
www.michaelsortomme.com
Contention was promised and delivered pre and post Hurricane Sandy. The country’s core divisions based on race and religion did not bode well, pre-election, especially for a pro-labor liberal democrat, one who had never bowed to religious convention. Romney’s reality had spun in my head for months and escalated to dizziness when Paul Ryan signed his allegiance with Romney, becoming the radically pro-life Vice-Presidential candidate. I was freshly out of college when Row VS Wade was voted into law; I knew the horrors of abortions gone wrong and the guilt of bringing children into a world that did not expect or want them; my friends suffered in the 1960’s and 70’s, when men rarely took responsibility for their mishaps. The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood was becoming a looming reality. The thought of these men, who had such cavalier attitudes toward women, minorities, the poor, dictating our Nation’s laws was frightening. The race was 50-50, anyone’s game…
I stood in front of our house, early on Election Day, surveying the property, relishing the newly finished yard work. The Pole, what would its future be? Mark and I planted the twenty foot tall lavender Peace Pole with the word PEACE painted in green in thirteen languages. It took days painting letter by letter, using words I could not pronounce. When the US invaded Afghanistan, we felt there was need to stand for a political goal, wanting to take our thoughts out of our heads and manifest them in a new form, one that could be seen and heard. Ten years later, the Pole is developing cracks, its bent slightly to the East, crooked. The words have faded slightly, but its copper top still shone and people take precious time to watch and feel it, as part of their walking routines. The Pole clashed with the garden, the house, the neighborhood; the small town inhabitants viewed us as entertaining, vestiges of a lost age. But, it expressed who we were then, and still are—a decade later—holding space for PEACE, all day, every day.
If a political team, hell-bent to stop all “entitlement” payments to the poor, desiring to eliminate public education and abortion, curb the ways in which women obtain birth control, stop national healthcare from manifesting, how far would they take their perceived power? Who would they imprison, what would they illegalize, what Supreme Court Justices would they put in place for life? The questions were endless: a Mormon and a Catholic dictating family values for 360,000,000 people. Would we be persecuted for having rainbow stickers on the front window? For having reincarnation bumper stickers: Born Again & Again & Again….? And, our favorite: “The last time religion and politics mixed, people were burned at the stake.” Okay, in this country in 1692, the Puritans lynched their non-believers, but you get the point… How would we fair with militant conservatives in power? Would we be forced from our own country, from our home? It had happened a million times before, on almost every continent, people forced from their comfort, from everything they knew and loved, driven to unknown ports of exile. Just how bad would it get?
I had not missed a federal election in 38 years, casting my first ballot for Jimmy Carter in the 1970’s. Weathered the Reagan years by leaving the country, survived the Bushes and even grew to respect Old Man Bush, especially since he had hung with good old Bill Clinton, from time to time. All those experiences seemed to blur, becoming less important than the NOW, as I stood sighing in front of our yellow house.
A fervent voter, dedicated to make my mark, regardless of the possibility of fraud or worst yet, bad choices, I had never been a fan of the Electoral College, not until November 6, 2012, yesterday. We expected a long night, listening to endless pundits pontificating bullshit. But, by about 10 PM, PST, the networks called the election, called Obama the winner, the intellectual democrats were reelected for a second term. In a state of disbelief, I sat in my mini-throne, warm in my turquoise blanket until 4 AM, waiting for a snafu, any blunder to surface. None came, but security was still illusive, as was sleep. By 9 AM, the election was secured; both public and electoral votes were in Obama and Biden’s favor.
Still sighing, smiling widely, some eight hours later, I gaze out my studio window and catch the last rays of gentle Fall light bounce off the copper-topped Peace Pole. Nope, no need to move to another country, or hide our politics or faith—we are free to be ourselves, for the time being, standing for PEACE, the best way we know how.
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