Whenever the sun comes down like a ton of bricks, I want to be the one to help you lift it
Well, one out of three ain't bad.
I voted to endorse Bob Massie for Governor, Jimmy Tingle for Lieutenant Governor, and Josh Zakim for Secretary of State. I am not giving any trade secrets away by saying so. The very public, very analog nature of Massachusetts state politics in the twenty-first century continues to astound and delight me. Last year I voted by shouting "Aye" and "Nay" and in cases of close calls literally standing up and being counted. This year I voted, when the pair of tellers reached my name in the town-by-town, ward-by-ward roll call of the Second Middlesex District, by calling out the names of my chosen candidates, hearing them echoed by one of the tellers, and watching them be written down double-entry-style in the spreadsheets of an iPad and the pages of a three-ring binder. Anyone within earshot could hear me. I could hear them. There was a lot to hear, since the Second Middlesex apparently brought this year's greatest number of delegates to the convention. (This was alleged as the excuse for sticking us up in the nosebleed seats of Worcester's DCU Center, where we were eye-level with some catwalks and a rather large Canadian flag I assume is reserved for hockey night. I made my congressman, Representative Mike Capuano—perhaps better known outside of Somerville as Captain America's uncle—laugh by telling him, since he had glad-handed me and asked how I was doing as I passed him on the steep concrete stairs, that I was fine except for the altitude sickness.) Now imagine this same call-and-response playing out in every one of the state's forty senatorial districts, all across the convention center, all at the same time, intermittently punctuated by whoops and cheers whenever a ward or a district finishes casting its votes. Australian ballot? That must be for weirdos who don't want to shout back and forth at each other for two hours in the middle of the afternoon. Seriously, I think the major difference between my day's experience and your average nineteenth-century election was a relative absence of booze. And probably fewer hats.
I had wanted very much for Massie to win the endorsement for governor. I think he's worth it; I even think he's electable. He gave a lucid, passionate tzedek tzedek tirdof speech that I liked better than anything I heard this morning except maybe Jimmy Tingle's "This is the message of the Democratic Party. Feed the hungry, house the homeless, heal the sick, welcome the stranger—and, I would add, fix the T," but in neither case did the majority of my fellow delegates agree with me. I am still glad I was there. I propped my head on my hand and dozed a little during the opening remarks, but I did not fall asleep during any of the candidates' speeches and I had some nice conversations with fellow delegates, the same colleague of
spatch's whom I ran into last year, and my alderman whom I last saw on the bus. Sometimes we talked activism, sometimes children's books. I never did find a lanyard for my delegate's badge, so it's still in the pocket of my grey jacket. I do not think I will ever say "under God" when I pledge allegiance to the flag.
I had to extricate Hestia from under the cushions of the couch almost as soon as I got home, but after falling ravenously upon some leftover pad thai and a sour cherry brownie I am now lying on the Hestia-free couch, watching the sun set; this morning I watched it rise. The gubernatorial primary is in September, the election itself in November. There will be plenty of local politics to pay attention to between now and then. First, however, I think I am going to fall asleep. I was counted.
I voted to endorse Bob Massie for Governor, Jimmy Tingle for Lieutenant Governor, and Josh Zakim for Secretary of State. I am not giving any trade secrets away by saying so. The very public, very analog nature of Massachusetts state politics in the twenty-first century continues to astound and delight me. Last year I voted by shouting "Aye" and "Nay" and in cases of close calls literally standing up and being counted. This year I voted, when the pair of tellers reached my name in the town-by-town, ward-by-ward roll call of the Second Middlesex District, by calling out the names of my chosen candidates, hearing them echoed by one of the tellers, and watching them be written down double-entry-style in the spreadsheets of an iPad and the pages of a three-ring binder. Anyone within earshot could hear me. I could hear them. There was a lot to hear, since the Second Middlesex apparently brought this year's greatest number of delegates to the convention. (This was alleged as the excuse for sticking us up in the nosebleed seats of Worcester's DCU Center, where we were eye-level with some catwalks and a rather large Canadian flag I assume is reserved for hockey night. I made my congressman, Representative Mike Capuano—perhaps better known outside of Somerville as Captain America's uncle—laugh by telling him, since he had glad-handed me and asked how I was doing as I passed him on the steep concrete stairs, that I was fine except for the altitude sickness.) Now imagine this same call-and-response playing out in every one of the state's forty senatorial districts, all across the convention center, all at the same time, intermittently punctuated by whoops and cheers whenever a ward or a district finishes casting its votes. Australian ballot? That must be for weirdos who don't want to shout back and forth at each other for two hours in the middle of the afternoon. Seriously, I think the major difference between my day's experience and your average nineteenth-century election was a relative absence of booze. And probably fewer hats.
I had wanted very much for Massie to win the endorsement for governor. I think he's worth it; I even think he's electable. He gave a lucid, passionate tzedek tzedek tirdof speech that I liked better than anything I heard this morning except maybe Jimmy Tingle's "This is the message of the Democratic Party. Feed the hungry, house the homeless, heal the sick, welcome the stranger—and, I would add, fix the T," but in neither case did the majority of my fellow delegates agree with me. I am still glad I was there. I propped my head on my hand and dozed a little during the opening remarks, but I did not fall asleep during any of the candidates' speeches and I had some nice conversations with fellow delegates, the same colleague of
I had to extricate Hestia from under the cushions of the couch almost as soon as I got home, but after falling ravenously upon some leftover pad thai and a sour cherry brownie I am now lying on the Hestia-free couch, watching the sun set; this morning I watched it rise. The gubernatorial primary is in September, the election itself in November. There will be plenty of local politics to pay attention to between now and then. First, however, I think I am going to fall asleep. I was counted.

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I do not pledge allegiance to the flag. The 1954 addition of under God isn't my main sticking point. I would be happy to promise to uphold and defend the Constitution of the United States, but I don't expect to ever be sworn into elected office or the military.
According to her children, RBG sleeps only a couple of hours a night during the week, and sleeps all weekend. I hope you can also have a sleep-filled couple of days.
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You're welcome.
According to her children, RBG sleeps only a couple of hours a night during the week, and sleeps all weekend. I hope you can also have a sleep-filled couple of days.
Thank you! I slept almost twelve hours last night, which was wonderful. I suspect I could have slept even more, but I'll have to wait until tonight to find out.
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YOU DID THE THING.
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I thought it might be rude!
(I have actually no idea what early Boston gun control laws looked like. I assume we had some. I should ask
YOU DID THE THING.
I did!
*hugs*
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You are still welcome.
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Well done! It does sound like a fascinating way of doing things, even if it also makes me v glad for my tiny very nearby little polling station with a secret ballot and paper and pencils!
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Thank you!
It does sound like a fascinating way of doing things, even if it also makes me v glad for my tiny very nearby little polling station with a secret ballot and paper and pencils!
People kept talking about the ballot and so I kept expecting it to be written and anonymous, if perhaps somewhat informal since I could see nothing like a polling station in place (and besides, my two experiences of the local Democratic caucus involved hand-written index cards folded in half which were legally binding enough to convene this entire arenaful of delegates in the first place). Nope! I imprinted on 1776 (1972) when I was shown it for eighth-grade Social Studies, but I truly did not expect any of it to be procedurally relevant to my later life.
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It's entirely possible the link is there. The founding of this country was ridiculously neoclassical.
It sounds like it would have been fascinating to witness, and still more be a part of.
My entire experience of voting until last summer was secret ballots and paper all the way. At least at this level, it really appears to be all about public shouting. I find it oddly wonderful. At some point I should try to figure out how these two systems came to coexist and what the rest of the U.S. looks like when it comes to voting, but right now I think I'm just enjoying that last spring I talked for two minutes about ethics and vegetables in a high school cafeteria and yesterday I had an effect on the political future of my state. It feels totally amateur. I am endeavoring to use it for good.
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I'd vote for that.
I was counted.
You count! Many thanks from a citizen of the Commonwealth.
Nine
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I did! The candidate who got the endorsement has both qualifications and a wonderful name, at least.
You count! Many thanks from a citizen of the Commonwealth.
Thank you.
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And I can definitely get behind Tingle's platform. Knowing nothing else about him, shame he didn't take the nomination.
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No! He dropped out citing financial reasons! I was not pleased. He was my second choice after Bob and I thought if he could get elected—twice!—mayor of Newton, he had a real shot at governor of Massachusetts.
And I can definitely get behind Tingle's platform. Knowing nothing else about him, shame he didn't take the nomination.
I was surprised, honestly. On top of his eminently sensible priorities, his speech had the best crowd rapport of the convention and real substance. I expected him to be a landslide.
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Sounds sadly plausible. Still, I suppose (a) maybe next time, and (b) I'll put my name in for him in the primary, and (c) whoever actually got picked is presumably still a better candidate (in both senses) than an artichoke?
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Oh, definitely. And much better than Baker. I just liked all the people I voted to endorse even better than artichokes.
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Re: the Pledge of Allegiance-- I've known for a while that it didn't have "under God" in it till the Ike Age, but I only recently found out the original version was even simpler: "I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." I also had never heard that until 1942, students gave the "Bellamy Salute." If you've never heard of it, brace yourself, and do an image search.
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You're welcome! I am glad to provide information.
(So: is the public shouting procedure normal for state-level party politics? Is it just the Massachusetts Democrats? I am enjoying it immensely and it continues to feel like a very old way of doing things, which is amazing alongside the livestreaming video screens.)
I also had never heard that until 1942, students gave the "Bellamy Salute." If you've never heard of it, brace yourself, and do an image search.
I've seen pictures! I don't blame Bellamy for creating it in 1892, but I am not surprised we dropped it like a hot rock when we did.
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Thank you!