Saturday, June 7, 2008

Election Year

In 1968, I had just turned 12, and my grandmother took me with her to vote. I'm not sure of her purposes--maybe she wanted me to see a woman voting, maybe she just had me along to carry the stuff she bought shopping, maybe she just wanted my company--but into the booth I went with her. There was a curtain, and of course the ballot was printed on a piece of paper. My grandmother was sure of herself. Her hand went straight to the Democrat side, and she marked "Hubert Humphrey" for president instead of "Richard Nixon" on the Republican side. She smiled at me and said, "Don't tell anyone."

This was my tiny, bustling grandmother, who wasn't quite five feet tall, and who made apple pies of such splendor that I still love apple pies of any sort today. She also had some giant Hershey bars hidden in her kitchen cabinet to sneak to chocolate lovers such as me. She had a great deal of energy, and she raised six children. She took care of my grandpa and the cat and any grandchildren who happened to visit. Her husband, my grandfather, was a staunch Republican. So was my father, her son, until late in his life.

Well, I never told anyone for many years. I have thought of it a few times, especially lately.

I really hate that Hillary didn't win the nomination.