It's hockey section week in Minnesota -- the best week of the year for prep puck people. I am lucky enough to be on the public address voices at the Minnesota State tournament. It's a terrific event and it always amazes me that 17,000 people show up in St. Paul for a high school hockey game.
The section semis and finals are the tensest games of the year. If you get to the state tournament, you have accomplished something great. But lose in the section final and you feel empty. That's why there were more than a few hearts stopping the other night in a semifinal game when Roseville, trailing 4-3 to White Bear Lake, was awarded a penalty shot with 34 seconds left in the game. Adam Mueller, the Raiders' top scorer, came charging in, made his move and missed the net. You could hear 3,000 people release their breath all at once. It was a helluva moment.
The other night, before a game, a coach asked me if I had a Rolaids. I watched him during the pre-game announcements. Statues move more. The Stanley Cup has nothing on this.
I am sure similar situations play out all over the land in the next couple weeks -- mostly in basketball but some in hockey, too. It's worth going to see ... even if you don't have a rooting interest.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Life Isn't Fair Department (again)
Two things happened this week that reminded me how fragile life is ... and how much of a mystery it can be at times.
The first occurred in mid-week. I got an email from the wife of a guy who was a couple years behind me in college. The fellow passed away last May at age 48. I was out of town at the time Greg died but got back in time to go to the funeral. For some reason, I didn't. I don't recall why but I am sure it wasn't a very good one. Shame on me for not going.
At any rate, Greg's widow emailed me wanting to know if I could get a ticket for her and her daughter to the state girls high school hockey tournament last weekend in St. Paul. It was no problem and I was happy to do so. But it started me thinking about Greg and how unfair things seem at times. Here was a young guy who loved his wife and his daughters, coached kids and is the type of person who should be a role model. Why him? I can think of several other people the world could do without.
Later in the week, my sister-in-law Kathy, who had a mild heart attack (if there really is such a thing) several years ago, landed back in the hospital with some type of re-occurrence. She seems to be doing fine but, still, here is somebody who is young (in her 40s), whipsmart, a hard worker, volunteers at a grade school, has a great husband, etc. Again, the type of person who should be looking forward to life instead of worrying about what did (or did not) happen to her the other day.
You balance those people against the many folks you know or are aware of who are miserable excuses for human beings. These are the folks who care only for themselves and wouldn't dream of even lifting their arm to help an old person cross a slippery road unless they got five bucks in advance.
And you end up wondering what the overall plan is by the man upstairs. In these two cases, it doesn't seem right.
The first occurred in mid-week. I got an email from the wife of a guy who was a couple years behind me in college. The fellow passed away last May at age 48. I was out of town at the time Greg died but got back in time to go to the funeral. For some reason, I didn't. I don't recall why but I am sure it wasn't a very good one. Shame on me for not going.
At any rate, Greg's widow emailed me wanting to know if I could get a ticket for her and her daughter to the state girls high school hockey tournament last weekend in St. Paul. It was no problem and I was happy to do so. But it started me thinking about Greg and how unfair things seem at times. Here was a young guy who loved his wife and his daughters, coached kids and is the type of person who should be a role model. Why him? I can think of several other people the world could do without.
Later in the week, my sister-in-law Kathy, who had a mild heart attack (if there really is such a thing) several years ago, landed back in the hospital with some type of re-occurrence. She seems to be doing fine but, still, here is somebody who is young (in her 40s), whipsmart, a hard worker, volunteers at a grade school, has a great husband, etc. Again, the type of person who should be looking forward to life instead of worrying about what did (or did not) happen to her the other day.
You balance those people against the many folks you know or are aware of who are miserable excuses for human beings. These are the folks who care only for themselves and wouldn't dream of even lifting their arm to help an old person cross a slippery road unless they got five bucks in advance.
And you end up wondering what the overall plan is by the man upstairs. In these two cases, it doesn't seem right.
Monday, February 18, 2008
When Words Fail
Today, my sister-in-law, Shari and her boyfriend Aaron had to put one of their two cats down. It was a painful decision but one that was in the best interest of a suffering animal.
So why do we do this? Why do we bring animals into our lives when we know that someday we will probably be charged with ending that life? In the big scheme of things, they are only with us for only a short period.
Shari, who is a very sensitive soul, emailed me her thoughts: "In our heart of hearts, we knew it was the right thing to do, but boy, sometimes doing the right thing is the hardest thing!!!! I keep trying to think of her now chewing grass and laying out in the sunshine with her sister Abbe (also deceased) and watching birds to their heart's content. And they are both healthy and able to run and play."
In our mind's eye, that is how we will always see our pets -- happy. They smile at us and we instantly feel better. Although they never say a word, they have a way of comforting us when we are down. And we celebrate in their triumphs -- whether it is successfuly catching a bird or a mouse or simply chewing a bone to its proper end. Our pets' worlds don't stretch very far.
Then again, how far is mine?
There is nothing I could say or write that would make Shari and Aaron feel better today. And perhaps that is the best tribute of them all. Former presidents, movie stars and athletic figures die every day. We acknowledge them, sigh and move on. But when it is our animals, we react differently. The pain will go away but it is intense for a time. Eventually, they may decide to get another cat. (S)he won't be the same as the now-gone Emilee -- and that's the point. Each pet we have brings out something different in us ... and give us a different sort of happiness.
Which is why we love them.
So why do we do this? Why do we bring animals into our lives when we know that someday we will probably be charged with ending that life? In the big scheme of things, they are only with us for only a short period.
Shari, who is a very sensitive soul, emailed me her thoughts: "In our heart of hearts, we knew it was the right thing to do, but boy, sometimes doing the right thing is the hardest thing!!!! I keep trying to think of her now chewing grass and laying out in the sunshine with her sister Abbe (also deceased) and watching birds to their heart's content. And they are both healthy and able to run and play."
In our mind's eye, that is how we will always see our pets -- happy. They smile at us and we instantly feel better. Although they never say a word, they have a way of comforting us when we are down. And we celebrate in their triumphs -- whether it is successfuly catching a bird or a mouse or simply chewing a bone to its proper end. Our pets' worlds don't stretch very far.
Then again, how far is mine?
There is nothing I could say or write that would make Shari and Aaron feel better today. And perhaps that is the best tribute of them all. Former presidents, movie stars and athletic figures die every day. We acknowledge them, sigh and move on. But when it is our animals, we react differently. The pain will go away but it is intense for a time. Eventually, they may decide to get another cat. (S)he won't be the same as the now-gone Emilee -- and that's the point. Each pet we have brings out something different in us ... and give us a different sort of happiness.
Which is why we love them.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Words Really Do Matter
The other day, I got into a spirited discussion with a fellow I have been friendly with for several years. The nature of this disagreement isn't important here. Rather, what's germaine is some of the things said.
In the course of our discussion, this fellow said a few things that, given the wisdom of hindsight, he probably wishes he hadn't. But words uttered stay pertinent until the speaker amends it by either apologizing or clarifying his intent.
An ex-boss of mine once said, "Words matter." He was right -- even if he didn't believe it himself. (This same fellow once told me I would have a job in his organization for life. I was fired six months later by one of his underlings and he never called or said a thing to me. On another occasion, he told a person who had left the organization to call him and he would help wherever possible. This person did -- called him twice, in fact. He never called back.)
We all tend to forget this thing about words at one time or another. Sometimes, we promise to help a person move or meet with somebody who needs our help. Then, we get the chance to golf or go to a ballgame and we take back our word.
A while back, there was a big hullabaloo over a Hillary Clinton statement regarding Lyndon Johnson and Martin Luther King. Because Mrs. Clinton didn't go to on explain her statement, her backers took it one way and her opponents took it another.
Words -- if not used carefully -- can be used against you.
It's not always our fault. Sometimes, we just didn't know that a certain term was derogatory or could be considered mean-spirited. When you work in my business, you hear coaches say things to officials and players you know they didn't mean personally. That's different -- it is something uttered during the course of an intense game.
But there are times when you really need to, as my mother used to say, "Watch your mouth." We've all done it -- said things we regretted later. To those I did that to and haven't apologized properly for, I do so now. I was young and stupid.
I am sure I will run into the fellow I had the disagreement with down the line. When I do see him, I won't bring the previous discussion up because there is no need to. The issue has been settled. But elephants remember.
I am more than ready to take my lumps when I say or write something that upsets someone. If I can defend it, I will. If I review it and decide I was out of line, I would hope I would be up to admitting it. That's only fair.
Funny thing about my ex-boss I mentioned earlier. I was recently asked what I remember about him. My first thought is he gave his word on a certain issue and didn't keep it. In the end, nothing else about him mattered.
If I ever see him again, I must thank him for a lesson learned.
In the course of our discussion, this fellow said a few things that, given the wisdom of hindsight, he probably wishes he hadn't. But words uttered stay pertinent until the speaker amends it by either apologizing or clarifying his intent.
An ex-boss of mine once said, "Words matter." He was right -- even if he didn't believe it himself. (This same fellow once told me I would have a job in his organization for life. I was fired six months later by one of his underlings and he never called or said a thing to me. On another occasion, he told a person who had left the organization to call him and he would help wherever possible. This person did -- called him twice, in fact. He never called back.)
We all tend to forget this thing about words at one time or another. Sometimes, we promise to help a person move or meet with somebody who needs our help. Then, we get the chance to golf or go to a ballgame and we take back our word.
A while back, there was a big hullabaloo over a Hillary Clinton statement regarding Lyndon Johnson and Martin Luther King. Because Mrs. Clinton didn't go to on explain her statement, her backers took it one way and her opponents took it another.
Words -- if not used carefully -- can be used against you.
It's not always our fault. Sometimes, we just didn't know that a certain term was derogatory or could be considered mean-spirited. When you work in my business, you hear coaches say things to officials and players you know they didn't mean personally. That's different -- it is something uttered during the course of an intense game.
But there are times when you really need to, as my mother used to say, "Watch your mouth." We've all done it -- said things we regretted later. To those I did that to and haven't apologized properly for, I do so now. I was young and stupid.
I am sure I will run into the fellow I had the disagreement with down the line. When I do see him, I won't bring the previous discussion up because there is no need to. The issue has been settled. But elephants remember.
I am more than ready to take my lumps when I say or write something that upsets someone. If I can defend it, I will. If I review it and decide I was out of line, I would hope I would be up to admitting it. That's only fair.
Funny thing about my ex-boss I mentioned earlier. I was recently asked what I remember about him. My first thought is he gave his word on a certain issue and didn't keep it. In the end, nothing else about him mattered.
If I ever see him again, I must thank him for a lesson learned.
Friday, February 15, 2008
Dogs are fun but sure can be strange
This has puzzled me for some time and I am hoping somebody out there in blogspace can help me out. Pete, the happy dog and I were taking our evening stroll through the neighborhood. As is his custom, he stopped next door and fired at our neighbor's fence. We strode along for a while when he suddenly stopped, laid down and started rolling back and forth on his back. This goes on for 15 seconds or so and then he jumps up as if he is refreshed.
This is not the only odd thing the Happy Dog does.
We go on for a while when he stops for what I can only call a phantom pee. Oh, he goes through the motions and he looks like he is doing something. But one of the advantages of walking in the snow is you can always see the damage. There was nothing on the snow, not even a droplet. Yet he looked as happy as ever and even tossed a baleful look at the window. Then it hit me. He does this only at specific houses -- houses that have dogs living there.
He has plenty of the real thing, too and there doesn't be a pattern. He is an equal opportunity fellow that way.
So I am now truly puzzled. I think I understand why they sniff other dogs' efforts. They are checking out the competition as it were. Sometimes, he offers an editorial view of his own. But this phantom pee stuff is weird.
The Happy Dog has another oddity that came out on this walk. He suddenly veered into a snowbank sniffing up a storm. He came up for air covered with snow and had some ice under his paw that he demanded I remove immediately. Now I think he is a bright dog. So, doesn't he know that if you dive into a snowbank, you are coming up full of snow and ice?
He's a wonderful dog -- a terrific companion and watchdog for my wife when I work at night. Most people who meet him comment on his sweet disposition and agree that the papers that claimed he is a daschund/terrier is incorrect. (Out vet put it this way: "Let's just say that whatever daschund heritage he has, it is a very distant relative.)
But there has to be something in his heritage that causes this bizarre behavior. Hopefully, there is a dog person out there who can give me a hint.
This is not the only odd thing the Happy Dog does.
We go on for a while when he stops for what I can only call a phantom pee. Oh, he goes through the motions and he looks like he is doing something. But one of the advantages of walking in the snow is you can always see the damage. There was nothing on the snow, not even a droplet. Yet he looked as happy as ever and even tossed a baleful look at the window. Then it hit me. He does this only at specific houses -- houses that have dogs living there.
He has plenty of the real thing, too and there doesn't be a pattern. He is an equal opportunity fellow that way.
So I am now truly puzzled. I think I understand why they sniff other dogs' efforts. They are checking out the competition as it were. Sometimes, he offers an editorial view of his own. But this phantom pee stuff is weird.
The Happy Dog has another oddity that came out on this walk. He suddenly veered into a snowbank sniffing up a storm. He came up for air covered with snow and had some ice under his paw that he demanded I remove immediately. Now I think he is a bright dog. So, doesn't he know that if you dive into a snowbank, you are coming up full of snow and ice?
He's a wonderful dog -- a terrific companion and watchdog for my wife when I work at night. Most people who meet him comment on his sweet disposition and agree that the papers that claimed he is a daschund/terrier is incorrect. (Out vet put it this way: "Let's just say that whatever daschund heritage he has, it is a very distant relative.)
But there has to be something in his heritage that causes this bizarre behavior. Hopefully, there is a dog person out there who can give me a hint.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Goodbye Talk Radio. I will hardly miss ye.
I have Jason Lewis of KTLK-FM to thank for the fact I am getting a divorce. No, not that kind of divorce. Rather, I have decided to rid myself of the foul stench that has become talk radio.
I feel better already.
Lewis is a talk show host in this area. Like most talkies, he is repulsed by John McCain (because he is not conservative enough) but will end up voting for him because he thinks:
A) Hillary Clinton is evil and another word that rhymes with witch.
B) Barack Obama is a good orator who has no idea what the hell he is talking about.
Those thoughts don't bother me because, since most talk show hosts are ultra- conservative, this is a rather common view.
Generally, I will listen to a bit of Lewis' show as I drive home for its humor content and the fact one needs to keep up with all points of view. But something he said the other day struck a chord with me. After I thought about it some more, I realized this was a common thread with the talkies.
Lewis was in a bad mood as it is because McCain appears to be a shoo-in for the Republican nomination. Then he read that President Bush had the temerity to offer a helping hand to the folks in Tennessee who lost their homes in the tornado last week. This set him off on a tangent. In a nutshell, he proclaimed it was the idiots' fault for living where a tornado might strike. If they had been thinking, they would have either moved to a tornado-free zone or spent as much money as needed to get insurance so the government wouldn't have to spend a dime on them.
And why is the government getting in the business of helping people anyway? Government is supposed to stay out of people's lives.
Lewis had offered a similar view last August when the I-35 W bridge collapsed in Minneapolis, costing 13 lives and injuring several others. Tough break, he said. But why should the state offer help? Tough breaks happen. Deal with it.
It suddenly hit me the problem with conservative talk radio is its proponents think the world is black and white when it is really different shades of gray. In the talkie world, you are agree with our point of view or against your country. If you do not agree 100 per cent with the major talk guys like Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, etc., you are a dullard who is uninformed. Oh, you're anti-American, too.
The talkies have an incredible level of hate and disdain for those who aren't in step with them I can no longer tolerate. Although it may have been at one time, it is no longer even faintly humorous.
When the thrill and laughter is gone, it is time to move on.
I realize that guys like Lewis and his ilk will say good riddance to me. I was never one of them. They didn't need me anyway.
The truth is, I will miss them a bit. I love to be challenged and I really do want to understand all viewpoints. But the time comes in your life when you can no longer accept being talked down to or mocked because you choose to disagree with another person's viewpoint.
As a rule, divorce is emotionally painful -- at least for one party. In this case, however, it really is for the best. The talkies can have their loyal listeners who hang on every word and truly believe all lefties are scumbuckets. And I can now drive home listening to something that might make me feel better about life -- a favorite song perhaps.
Now that I think about it, that sounds like a marriage made in heaven.
I feel better already.
Lewis is a talk show host in this area. Like most talkies, he is repulsed by John McCain (because he is not conservative enough) but will end up voting for him because he thinks:
A) Hillary Clinton is evil and another word that rhymes with witch.
B) Barack Obama is a good orator who has no idea what the hell he is talking about.
Those thoughts don't bother me because, since most talk show hosts are ultra- conservative, this is a rather common view.
Generally, I will listen to a bit of Lewis' show as I drive home for its humor content and the fact one needs to keep up with all points of view. But something he said the other day struck a chord with me. After I thought about it some more, I realized this was a common thread with the talkies.
Lewis was in a bad mood as it is because McCain appears to be a shoo-in for the Republican nomination. Then he read that President Bush had the temerity to offer a helping hand to the folks in Tennessee who lost their homes in the tornado last week. This set him off on a tangent. In a nutshell, he proclaimed it was the idiots' fault for living where a tornado might strike. If they had been thinking, they would have either moved to a tornado-free zone or spent as much money as needed to get insurance so the government wouldn't have to spend a dime on them.
And why is the government getting in the business of helping people anyway? Government is supposed to stay out of people's lives.
Lewis had offered a similar view last August when the I-35 W bridge collapsed in Minneapolis, costing 13 lives and injuring several others. Tough break, he said. But why should the state offer help? Tough breaks happen. Deal with it.
It suddenly hit me the problem with conservative talk radio is its proponents think the world is black and white when it is really different shades of gray. In the talkie world, you are agree with our point of view or against your country. If you do not agree 100 per cent with the major talk guys like Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, etc., you are a dullard who is uninformed. Oh, you're anti-American, too.
The talkies have an incredible level of hate and disdain for those who aren't in step with them I can no longer tolerate. Although it may have been at one time, it is no longer even faintly humorous.
When the thrill and laughter is gone, it is time to move on.
I realize that guys like Lewis and his ilk will say good riddance to me. I was never one of them. They didn't need me anyway.
The truth is, I will miss them a bit. I love to be challenged and I really do want to understand all viewpoints. But the time comes in your life when you can no longer accept being talked down to or mocked because you choose to disagree with another person's viewpoint.
As a rule, divorce is emotionally painful -- at least for one party. In this case, however, it really is for the best. The talkies can have their loyal listeners who hang on every word and truly believe all lefties are scumbuckets. And I can now drive home listening to something that might make me feel better about life -- a favorite song perhaps.
Now that I think about it, that sounds like a marriage made in heaven.
Friday, February 8, 2008
A winter scene brings back fond memories
Pete, the happy dog and I were on our morning constitutional when I heard a very familiar noise. It was snowing lightly and the wind was blowing but the noise was unmistakable. As we headed down the street, the noise became clearer. Were my ears tricking me or was that a solitary person skating and shooting pucks on the outdoor rink at North Dale playground?
Sure enough, there he was -- a young man simply going up and down the rink, shooting pucks at an empty net.
The young man lined up half a dozen pucks. One by one, he began rifling them into the unguarded net. There is an unique sound a puck makes when it is hit correctly -- a CRACK that isn't done justice by words.
We chatted for a minute or so. He said he had played hockey as a kid and this was his private workout. Some people run and others get on a bike. This fellow was having a wonderful time skating by himself and shooting pucks past an imaginary goalie.
It reminded me of my high school days when I used to do the same thing on the outdoor rink that was behind the dorm at Assumption. Although it seemed I was out there for hours, it was probably only 20-30 minutes at a time. But each time I shot harder than Frank Mahovlich, skated smoother than Jean Beliveau and had niftier moves than Gordie Howe.
Pete was bored and wanted to get home. I suddenly felt I was intruding on this fellow's private paradise and went on my way. As I did so, I imagined this guy sitting in some boring meeting in the afternoon. I imagined our guy daydreaming as his company's accountant (or was it the CEO?) droned on about something that really wasn't very important. I imagined my guy smiling to himself as he remembered a wonderful half-hour he had spent alone on the ice.
I think I need to get my skates sharpened
Sure enough, there he was -- a young man simply going up and down the rink, shooting pucks at an empty net.
The young man lined up half a dozen pucks. One by one, he began rifling them into the unguarded net. There is an unique sound a puck makes when it is hit correctly -- a CRACK that isn't done justice by words.
We chatted for a minute or so. He said he had played hockey as a kid and this was his private workout. Some people run and others get on a bike. This fellow was having a wonderful time skating by himself and shooting pucks past an imaginary goalie.
It reminded me of my high school days when I used to do the same thing on the outdoor rink that was behind the dorm at Assumption. Although it seemed I was out there for hours, it was probably only 20-30 minutes at a time. But each time I shot harder than Frank Mahovlich, skated smoother than Jean Beliveau and had niftier moves than Gordie Howe.
Pete was bored and wanted to get home. I suddenly felt I was intruding on this fellow's private paradise and went on my way. As I did so, I imagined this guy sitting in some boring meeting in the afternoon. I imagined our guy daydreaming as his company's accountant (or was it the CEO?) droned on about something that really wasn't very important. I imagined my guy smiling to himself as he remembered a wonderful half-hour he had spent alone on the ice.
I think I need to get my skates sharpened
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Something to be proud of
It lasted less than two hours. But the memory may stay with me forever. Tuesday was Caucus Night in Minnesota -- our state's turn at the political Wheel Of Fortune. If the experience I had at Arlington High School is any indication, we should be very proud of our state today.
My wife was busy when I arrived at Arlington. She was helping to register people for our tiny little precinct.
But I knew ahead of time she would be busy because the line of cars to get in the place made one think you were going to a Hannah Montana concert. After parking in a way Mr. Dragicevich, my driver's ed instructor, would not have approved of, I barreled my way upstairs. The line was long and getting longer. I cast my ballot and then did the only husbandly thing I could think of -- grabbed the envelope where people were voting and started accepting ballots.
There were people of all shapes, sizes, nationalities and ages. One woman who was a diabetic wanted to vote so badly she started asking neighbors for candy bars to keep her going until she could get to the front of the line. Another guy had one eye covered with a bandage and another barely open because of a recent car accident. When he got his chance, he needed help finding the line of the candidate he wanted but he completed his mission.
There was a young woman who had dragged her mother there and patiently waited while the older lady made up her mind. "I haven't done this for a long time," she explained. "I want to get it right." And so it went for 90 minutes.
We ran out of ballots near the end and people starting writing their choices' name down on blank sheets of paper. We told them to write first and last names as a precaution and kept one ballot out so they could get it right. "Is this legal?" one guy asked me. "I don't know," I replied. "We're in unchartered waters here and it's the only thing we could think of." Turned out it was okay.
The people were patient and wanted to take part. They stayed in line and talked. Many of them discovered neighbors they had never met. Several stayed to hear the caucus proposals and were surprised to learn they could be delegates at the city convention that comes up in March. "I thought everything was pre-selected," said one older woman. "You mean I can go to this thing and someone will listen to me?" She was beaming at the thought.
As I watched the line and watched people vote, I suspected Obama would win our precinct easily. It just looked like his kind of crowd and so it was. But it was fascinating to see such little bitterness and so many people who were so anxious to have their voice heard.
Later that night, on the local news and after talking to several friends, this scenario was playing everywhere. Everybody battled long lines but everybody got a chance to voice their opinion.
It was slightly disorganized and badly understaffed.(In other words, a vintage Democratic Party performance.) My wife and the woman who helped her deserve special praise for keeping calm amid the chaos. But it was worth the time and effort to see democracy in action.
My wife was busy when I arrived at Arlington. She was helping to register people for our tiny little precinct.
But I knew ahead of time she would be busy because the line of cars to get in the place made one think you were going to a Hannah Montana concert. After parking in a way Mr. Dragicevich, my driver's ed instructor, would not have approved of, I barreled my way upstairs. The line was long and getting longer. I cast my ballot and then did the only husbandly thing I could think of -- grabbed the envelope where people were voting and started accepting ballots.
There were people of all shapes, sizes, nationalities and ages. One woman who was a diabetic wanted to vote so badly she started asking neighbors for candy bars to keep her going until she could get to the front of the line. Another guy had one eye covered with a bandage and another barely open because of a recent car accident. When he got his chance, he needed help finding the line of the candidate he wanted but he completed his mission.
There was a young woman who had dragged her mother there and patiently waited while the older lady made up her mind. "I haven't done this for a long time," she explained. "I want to get it right." And so it went for 90 minutes.
We ran out of ballots near the end and people starting writing their choices' name down on blank sheets of paper. We told them to write first and last names as a precaution and kept one ballot out so they could get it right. "Is this legal?" one guy asked me. "I don't know," I replied. "We're in unchartered waters here and it's the only thing we could think of." Turned out it was okay.
The people were patient and wanted to take part. They stayed in line and talked. Many of them discovered neighbors they had never met. Several stayed to hear the caucus proposals and were surprised to learn they could be delegates at the city convention that comes up in March. "I thought everything was pre-selected," said one older woman. "You mean I can go to this thing and someone will listen to me?" She was beaming at the thought.
As I watched the line and watched people vote, I suspected Obama would win our precinct easily. It just looked like his kind of crowd and so it was. But it was fascinating to see such little bitterness and so many people who were so anxious to have their voice heard.
Later that night, on the local news and after talking to several friends, this scenario was playing everywhere. Everybody battled long lines but everybody got a chance to voice their opinion.
It was slightly disorganized and badly understaffed.(In other words, a vintage Democratic Party performance.) My wife and the woman who helped her deserve special praise for keeping calm amid the chaos. But it was worth the time and effort to see democracy in action.
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