My Watergate Coloring Book and the 2014 Election

I’ve heard all the excuses: “My vote doesn’t matter.” “I’m too busy.” “It’s not like this is an important election.” “Politicians are all the same.” All these excuses reflect a general discouragement with the American political process, and they are all accurate, in a way. But they are all also completely wrong, because they fail to grasp the most important part of election day. It’s not about “them,” it’s about us.

When Barack Obama was running for president six years ago, I was not on the Obama bandwagon. Like so many millions of Americans, I liked his rhetoric, his vision, and his proposals. But I was afraid of the bandwagon. Afraid that the very thing that was so exciting about Obamamania – the huge numbers of new voters and the incredible energy generated among young, minority, and women voters – would ultimately crash that bandwagon, and potentially the country with it. I feared what would happen when all those energized voters realized that Obama was not a superhero, and that the American political system – in all its messiness – would not yield to their vision of hope and change. Would their inevitable disillusionment lead to that powerful democracy-killer, apathy?

I am not immune to disillusionment. On the contrary, I grew up with it. Unlike many, maybe most Americans, I never had an “illusion” to begin with. You see, I had a Watergate Coloring Book. The first thing I knew about the president was that the president lied.  As an historian, I can tell you that every president has had their strengths and weaknesses, and all would fail when held to the Superman test, especially in a modern media circus.

So it is no surprise that six years after candidate Obama was elected President Obama we are facing a probable Republican takeover of the Senate. This country is about to hand the reins of Congress over to the very people who have been intent on deflating those lofty visions we held six years ago. And it will probably happen because all of those 2008 voters are too disillusioned to get out and vote tomorrow.

But that’s where the message failed. It was never about Barack Obama. It wasn’t about Michelle, or Hillary, or John McCain or Mitt Romney. It wasn’t about any of them. It was about us. It was always about us. And it still is.

Our great visions and dreams have been bogged down in the swamp that is Washington politics. But it won’t change by turning our backs on the swamp. And it won’t change by waiting for the perfect candidate to come along. But if we vote, in large numbers, we send a signal that we are done with it. That we will hold them – all of them – accountable. It will send a message that “We the People” demand to be heard, and we are not going away, not even in a midterm election year. And it will serve as a reminder that ultimately they are supposed to work for us – not the corporations, not the lobbyists. Us.

We are “We the People” and this election is about us. So please, take time from your busy day tomorrow, remember your dream of hope and change and “a more perfect union,” and please, go vote. Because this election day, it’s all about us.

Out of the mouths of babes

A Utah school district got a lot of negative publicity this week over a problem with school lunches. It seems that some students with a negative balance on their lunch accounts were served lunch, and then a school employee walked over and took those lunches and threw them in the garbage. (Better to feed the trash can than a hungry kid, right?)

I’ve spent a lot of time in public schools. I know a lot of teachers, administrators, and school staff, and I cannot imagine any of them walking up to a hungry child and taking his or her food away. I cannot imagine what kind of person does this. The school staff I know would bend over backwards to help a kid, and many of them do so at their own expense – buying supplies, snacks, working countless hours that never qualify as overtime.

But in this elementary school in Utah, the children were publicly humiliated and perfectly good food was wasted, all because of what again? The district has since apologized, is examining its policies, and responding to the outraged parents. Maybe this will all go down as one big, though humiliating, mistake for these elementary school kids.

But while parents in Utah and across the country were incensed and the media responded with outrage, a much bigger travesty is taking food off the plates of millions of American children. The House of Representatives has passed a farm bill which will cut $800 million a year from the food stamp program (SNAP – supplemental nutrition assistance program).  We are supposed to be glad that the cut isn’t bigger. The Republican-controlled House had wanted to cut is by five times that amount. Apparently we are getting off easy here …

Really?

Because a 2011 study showed that 1 in 4 American children are on food stamps and 75% of families receiving assistance include a child, senior citizen, or disabled adult. That means our Congress – the folks we pay to represent us – are threatening to take food off the plates of 19.9 million children here in the United States.

I don’t know exactly how this will play out, and how many families will see their benefits cut, but I do know this: every parent, teacher, and compassionate adult in America should be as outraged and as LOUD as those parents in Utah. We should demand the same media attention and public outcry for each and every child who goes hungry because of this. Demand that the Senate defeat this bill. Demand that the president veto it. Demand that American children be fed.

Right now, we can see the face of someone who would take away a child’s lunch. It’s the face of John Boehner and the 250 other congressmen who voted for it. But if we allow it, if we don’t raise our voices and demand that our government protect, nurture and feed our children, then we’ll have to look in the mirror too.

Raising our Voices

I was very saddened to hear today about the death of Pete Seeger. Some of my friends knew him well, some knew him, and still more just admired him from afar. I had seen him in concert several times, especially at the Clearwater Festival. I know his music, obviously -- as a child of hippies, I grew up singing it. And I always admired his steady voice against oppression, and his tireless faith in peace and justice.

But more than all that, he was one of those people walking this earth just trying to make it better. And the world weeps every time we lose one of those souls ....

I have friends I haven't seen in many years -- people I may never see again. But my life is better for having known them, and the world is a better place because they are here. I find comfort in knowing that they are still on the planet, even if our paths never cross again. And that's how I felt about Pete Seeger. His music and his clear voice for good warmed me, and the world lost someone special today.

But there is more ... because his death leaves a void. A void which must be filled -- with new voices, just as clear, just as committed, just as determined. It is up to us to shoulder up to one another and take up the guitar, banjo, microphone, camera or pen and speak, sing, write, shout in a clear unequivocating voice about love, and peace, and justice, and freedom.

One of the tributes I read today recalled Pete Seeger leading a march with the Occupy Movement in 2010. It quoted him as saying: "Be wary of great leaders. Hope that there are many, many small leaders."

I understand the sentiment. In 2008, while everyone was jumping on the Obama bandwagon, I feared the effects of disillusionment when one "great leader" failed to live up to our oversized expectations. I worried that young people, like my college students, would drift off into apathy when their zeal did not yield the expected results. I have also been concerned about movements which promised "it gets better," without giving young people the tools to make it better.

Pete Seeger never made that mistake. With a hammer and a bell and a song, Seeger had the tools and the wherewithal to use them, day in and day out, through triumphs and disappointments, for seven decades. And he never took the stage alone or relied solely on his own voice. He made us all sing, so we'd be ready when the time came.

Now it's our turn to take up the tools, to learn to harmonize, stretch our vocal cords, and sing. It's time to shoulder up and become many, many small leaders -- singing with one vision of a world of peace, justice, freedom and love.

"Deep in my heart, I do believe
That we shall live in peace some day."