Extraordinary Tuesday

Of all the cool things that happened today, the coolest is that O WROTE HER NAME, in its entirety ALL BY HERSELF, twice! I don't know where this came from since we haven't been practicing it at home, though she could certainly spell it out loud when prompted. I thought the only letter in her name that she knew how to write was the O, but, no, there she goes spelling the whole thing in little preschooler block letters. It's unbelievable how proud an adult can be of their child, it's as if my heart wants to burst!

Another cool thing about today was that Funnydad and I attended the Colorado caucuses. I'm not sure where to begin -- it was a little like a cross between a high school class election and a Woody Allen movie. We'd never caucused before and weren't sure what to expect, but really it was the most inane system you've ever seen. I don't think there was anything improper going on, but everyone just kept whispering to their neighbor, "really? this is how this happens?"

There was no shouting, there were only a few impassioned speeches, and there was a lot of chaos. Way, way, way more people turned out for this caucus than the precinct coordinators were prepared for. The precinct leader said he'd never led a caucus that wouldn't fit in his living room, and here were more than 300 people crammed into an elementary school gymnasium. So many people they didn't actually check all of us in because they ran out of check-in forms and ran out of time before we had to start. (I worried that lack of official registration might mean our precinct wouldn't be counted later, but I was assured our caucus would count. I'm not entirely sure why that's true -- what's to have prevented a bunch of people who aren't eligible to vote from slipping in?) The event leader who made the call to scrap the registration process said, "We're Democrats! We're about participation, not bureaucracy." It sounded good through his faulty megaphone and made us all chuckle, but participation is only good if my vote still counts.

Anyway, once we got started, one person for each candidate was permitted a two-minute speech. The speeches for the two leading candidates could not have been more different. The Obama person stood up and spoke from her heart, throwing her soul into it. People want a sense of unity and a president who can move the country forward. Once in a generation are we given a political leader who can inspire and uplift like Barak... It was a good pep talk, and the room cheered. The Clinton person read a letter from Hillary Clinton sent to precinct leaders in caucus states for this purpose. It sounded like a letter from someone else, a flat and boring list of accomplishments and promises. Health care reform, energy policy, end the war, real change. When the letter was through the room clapped politely. A few others gave speeches on behalf of candidates for congressional races, and one guy got a laugh by saying, "I'd like to speak on behalf of Dick Cheney."

There was some business to attend to before we could get down to what we were all there to do. We had to appoint two precinct captains, people who commit to a two-year term helping to the Democratic Party in Boulder County by raising their hands in a crowded gym, as if we're choosing lunch room monitors at a school assembly. We had to choose a secretary for the evening. Someone nominated her husband, who was already running around with a clip board.

We split into two rooms, one for each of the two precincts present and there still weren't enough chairs. After the caucus leader (the guy with the inferior megaphone who reminded me and the people near me of a bumbling Woody Allen) dispensed with some necessary boring announcements, they took a "straw poll." The rules say that you can vote Clinton, Obama, or Undecided. But this is a preliminary vote, a vote to see who can be voted for -- a primary for the primary, if you will. In order to make it to the real vote, a group must get 15% of the eligible voters in the room. (There were indeed ineligible voters milling around the room, people from other countries who came with spouses, kids.) The Undecideds did not have 15% of the room. I'm not exactly sure what would have happened if they had, but luckily I can just gloss right over that since it didn't happen. Clinton and Obama did. But, just barely. There were 160 eligible voters in the room, which means 15% is 24 people. Clinton had 26. Just 26 people out of that packed room were there to support Hillary, and one of them was my husband. He had walked into the school unsure of whom he'd vote for (those of you who know him are probably not surprised to hear this). Accustomed to New York elections where supporters for candidates are not allowed to post banners and hand out stickers near polling places, he was turned off by all the Obama campaigning happening in the actual building, and on the spot decided to vote for Clinton. There were Clinton supporters handing out candy, but they weren't as obvious.

Then the "interesting" part happened. The Clinton people went to the front of the gym and stood near the stage, the Obama people stayed in their seats, and the undecideds took occupancy of the first two rows. Those undecided folks had five minutes to make up their minds. Was there a lot of vote wrangling? No. Were there convincing speeches? Were people standing on chairs enticing neighbors to join their camp? No. I think a few campaign organizers for each candidate worked the undecided crowd a little, but really, it was kind of a boring five minutes. I talked to the woman next to me who lives down the street. She runs a non-profit that encourages children's literacy in Guatemala, so it was an interesting conversation. When the five minutes were over they counted again. (By they I mean any number of people wandering around the room looking as if they had an official role -- there were no vests, hats, pins, or other indicators that these people were in any way in charge. Except the guy with the megaphone, and as I explained, he seemed a little lost sometimes.)

As they were counting someone said to the megaphone guy, "We have to do an official vote, this is still a straw poll." To which the guy responded, "Okay, this is an official vote. I think. I think this is the official vote." Seriously, folks. Your country at work, right here in Colorado. So, they told us all to stay still, asked the people who were just observing to leave the room, and three separate counters worked the room to be sure they all got the same number. The final vote? Clinton 27, Obama 125, undecideds 2. Isn't that incredible? As I type this and watch the returns on nytimes.com, it's clear Boulder isn't reflective of the rest of the country, but we already knew that (see previous post). Still, kind of amazing, such a sweep. And the feeling in the room was so positive, so pro Barak, so hopeful. I mean, there were so few Clinton supporters that in the straw poll she almost didn't qualify for the real vote -- she needed 24 and got 26, just three people shy of not counting at all.

What does this mean? It means that from our precinct we send one Clinton delegate and six Obama delegates to the Boulder County primary in March. We actually chose those delegates (and alternates) tonight, again through the grade-school process of people raising their hands and getting the attention of the guy with the clipboard.

I think caucusing could work if you had a lot of people who knew a lot about politics and political processes in the room. I think it could work well with smaller numbers of participants. I think it might be a good system for swaying people who might otherwise support a candidate who would get a small sliver of support. But there seemed to be a lot of room for error the way things went down tonight, I just kept wishing that Jon Stewart voted in a caucus state because the system is ripe for satire. Honestly, I've been to twins club meetings that were more organized and efficient. I'd like to go on trust, on faith that everyone in the room was legitimately able to vote and that all votes were counted, and for now I kind of have to because I don't have a choice. But as a system for the country, the way 14 states hold primaries, I don't think it'll stand up to scrutiny. Except it does because caucuses aren't going away. Oh, there were precautions; they supposedly locked the doors at 7:00, so the voting pool couldn't change once the process started. And the victory for Obama was so assured, what did it matter if the counters were off one or two people? You know how that counting goes -- people move around, counters lose track. It's just not precise. How can a country that goes to court over hanging chad allow something this imprecise to continue? I enjoyed the process because it was my first time, but I'm not sure I'll still love it years from now when the novelty of the chaos wears off, or when the whole room isn't supporting my candidate. But for now I can tell my children stories about the crazy day in February when O wrote her name for the first time and mom and dad participated in a loopy political event.

Oh, the other cool thing that happened today was the first day at my new job. It went well, but I'll have to write about that later because like Colorado caucus-goers you've been patient enough for one night.