Election Reflection

#Vote

Who’s with me on being incredibly tired of receiving nonstop election messages? Despite the fact that I do not answer phone calls from unknown numbers and do not respond to texts from candidates or their proxies telling me that if I don’t act immediately, all will be lost, the phone calls and texts continue to increase as election day draws near.

**“Jane – we have a 900% match if you give now!” 

**“Jane – why have you abandoned your ideals?  Is it true we can no longer count on you?”

**“Jane, we’ve asked ONCE.  We’ve asked TWICE. We’ve asked at least EIGHT times! With early voting underway, we must confirm your vote.”

My lack of responses apparently deters no one in the campaign field offices. Those secret algorithms have told them what newspapers I read, what Instagram videos I like, and what news shows I watch.  Those algorithms, developed to make campaigning more efficient, are frighteningly accurate.  But really – do we want supercomputers to know that much about us?

I long for the more civil days of campaigning.  In 1980, I ran for the Utah Legislature.  I walked around to every home in my district, knocking on doors and leaving my campaign literature. I was the opposite of today’s sophisticated campaigner.  I had no list of which houses were likely to vote for me (or even to vote at all).  I just went to all of them.  Of course, I also didn’t win – but I did come close in a district that leaned heavily toward the other party.

I do contribute to local campaigns of people I know.  I applaud them for being willing to run, to commit to all the hard work of being an elected official, and for being willing to absorb all the negative barbs that seem to come flying at anyone who has a chance of winning.  I, too, had to withstand negative comments back in 1980, but there was no internet to put rocket fuel in their velocity. Instead, my opponent knocked on people’s doors and told people: 1. That I supported the ERA, and 2. That I was gay.  Both of those statements were true – although I wasn’t publicly out as lesbian in 1980 – and I never really figured out how my opponent knew that.

My two other unsuccessful runs for public office deepened my appreciation of political candidates.  In 2006, I ran for my city council. I filed for office, collected a few thousand dollars in donations, and began attending my local community council meetings.  After sitting through a local council meeting where they spent 90 minutes debating some arcane issue of their bylaws and arguing over the proper application of Roberts Rules of Order, I realized I didn’t have the patience for this work.  I withdrew, returned all of my donations, and happily volunteered to help another candidate's campaign.

I was drawn back into the political candidate arena in 2012 when I ran for vice chair of my state party.  I did pretty well, and it came down to me and one other woman as the finalists.  My business affiliations were challenged at that point, and I resoundingly lost.  Were the challenges fair or right?  No, but on the other hand, as I listened to the other finalist’s campaign speech, I thought, "Wow, she would be better at this than I would.”  A few weeks after the election, we met for a drink and conversation and have been mutual admirers ever since.

All that is to say – even if you don’t win – there are reasons to throw your hat in the ring.  Give the others some competition, educate yourself on the policy issues affecting your world, and challenge yourself to learn the names of as many neighbors as possible. (actually, the names can be the biggest challenge.  In 1980, when I knocked on all the doors in my district, I got to the point where it was hard even to remember my own name.  I introduced myself at a few doors as “Mane Jarquardt,” – which was always a sign it was time for me to quit for the day.)

If you aren’t inclined to run for political office yourself, take the time to get to know local candidates. Find someone you agree with and do something to help them get elected.  Walk your neighborhood, put up a lawn sign, or host a fundraiser.  Your connection to how local decisions are made will deepen.  Feeling like you are helping is a better recipe for happiness than simply railing at national television stories.

Educate yourself. Go vote. Remind your friends and family.  Whether you align yourself more with Ronald Reagan (“The right to vote is the crown jewel of American liberties.”), or Martin Luther King (“Voting is the foundation stone of political action.”), the time to vote is now.