Monday, October 26, 2020

Lou the Election Official: Days of Wonder...and Fright

MY HANDS WERE SLAPPING  the bed crazily when my wife suddenly awoke to shut them down.  My nightmare had surfaced.  Monkeys were popping up at the polling place to stuff ballots or to sneak them out.  Like whack-a-mole, I tried to hit them, slapping feverishly as they hopped around from voting booth to booth.  My wife thankfully broke the spasmodic spell, and saved me from losing to an army of feverish monkeys trying to subvert our election.

When I signed up to become an election official in New Hanover county, North Carolina, no one said a word about monkeys.  Just concerns that people would not show up out of fear they could become COVID infected, or that they would be intimidated by overzealous electioneering from one party or another, or that people would try to vote more than once, that ballot boxes could not be trusted.

The Election Board itself worried about attracting enough applicants like me to work half days or all day for ten dollars an hour to help guide things along.  Turns out they hired me and about 200 other people to staff nine early-voting sites around the county.  Everything from laptop operators registering voters, to external and internal line coordinators to greet and assist voters, to sanitation helpers keeping the voting booths and surroundings safe and clean.  Masks and sanitizers on hand for all who needed or wanted them. 

All election staff wore masks and so did all the voters who stood in lines of up to two hours and entered.  So did the hundreds more who qualified for curbside voting from their cars.

To keep it all above board, the major political parties sent observers to each site.  They did just that, sitting in chairs inside the sites watching, taking notes, and occasionally voicing concerns:  

"My big worry is having a bus drop off dozens of people who never voted before," one observer noted, eyeing the parking lot.  North Carolina does not require voters to have an ID, just other forms of identification tied to their county address.  No dreaded bus has come so far, only 58,000 citizens seeking to have their votes recorded.

Now a week into my post-retirement job as a "Greeter", nearly 45% of eligible county voters have already cast their ballots in person or by absentee mail.   Of the 58,000 cast, about 21,000 came from registered Republican voters, 17,000 from registered Democrats, and a whopping 19,000 from unaffiliated voters.  
Non-party people are the fastest rising group in our county, and throughout North Carolina.  Mail-in ballots are phenomenally on the rise -- so far, 780,000, a quadrupling of those recorded at this juncture in 2016.  The ballots, once counted on election day, could prove to be decisive in what pollsters call a "toss-up" state.

Among the first-time voters stood Miguel, an outwardly shy 18-year-old who I noticed hanging around the voting lines for two days but reluctant to step in.  When he finally did, he said he only voted for president and senator, describing himself as a "non-political" person.  I casually mentioned that the Election Board was still looking for temporary staff and maybe he should look to apply.  A colleague overheard and took him by the arm.  "Follow me," he said, and he did.  The next day Miguel had a job, and by day three he had transformed into a highly courteous and helpful staff member.  When I next saw him, he was walking an older voter back to his car. 

And so it went.  Few problems. Many touching scenes.  Families coming in with their young children, to show them how the voting process works.  Some wore their votes on tee shirts and hats, most kept them inside their heads.  Elderly couples wheeling themselves in, or walking slowly with canes and assistants.  Others meeting neighbors and fellow parishioners, and friends they had not seen in some time.  Voting rights groups moving to doo-wop, salsa and country western songs piped from a parking-lot food truck.  Voters taking selfies, proud of their "I voted" stickers.  A mother and son wearing Biden tees resetting a windblown Trump/Pence sign.

Yet we've had some "issues".  Some voters came because their absentee ballots had been blocked for lack of a witness signature; they were allowed to fix them and submit them provisionally.  A few wondered whether the pre-filled sample ballot they were handed from party workers was the "real" one.  It wasn't, just made to look that way.  My boss, the Chief Judge, came out to remind me that party pols had to stay 50 feet away from the voting lines, and then gave me a measuring tape to mark it off exactly.  She had heard that some pushy pols were encroaching.... 

For more, you might want to check in with Ryuichi Kanari, foreign correspondent for Asahi Shimbun, New York bureau.  He's on the Trump trail again.  His first book in 2017 chronicled conservative American politics in the midwest for Japanese and Korean readers.  He had come to North Carolina and Wilmington to see how things were going down south this time around.  During a lull in the lines, he asked me whether we'd seen more Trump or Biden voters and whether there had been any problems.  

As a non-partisan Election Official, I said there's not much I could tell him on the record.  Not even about my monkey nightmare.

Tuesday, October 6, 2020

Keep the Faith

HOWEVER THIS ELECTION turns out, one thing is clear.  Positions are hardening, especially for the people who pray for the best because they fear the worst.  They include some of the most God-fearing people I know.  

Some years back, an evangelical family member related how he felt like a societal outsider when it comes to his beliefs and lifestyle.  He believes in the Bible's teachings, often literally, and saw the country as hedonistic and radical in supporting gender and marriage rights, among other issues.  "We're now seen as the abnormal ones," he said, feeling oppressed.  Most of my extended family members might have agreed.

Evangelical Christians -- mainly Protestants  -- make up about one-quarter of U.S. voters, according to the Pew Research Center.  They stood among the strongest supporters of the Trump Republican party in 2016.  Most of them were white Americans, which cannot be overlooked.

Whether Trump attracts them in 2020 is iffy.  Christianity Today, the magazine founded by tele-evangelist Billy Graham, backed Trump's impeachment in a December 2019 editorial, saying "he abused his authority for personal gain and betrayed his constitutional oath."  It urged "evangelicals who continue to support Mr. Trump in spite of his blackened moral record...to remember who you are and whom you serve."  Namely, the Lord.

Other evangelicals, like hard-liner James Dobson, don't agree.  Dobson urges followers to overlook what he describes as "frivolous personality characteristics" and vote Trump all the way.  His latest open letter to politician Newt Gingrich and 799,999 other Christians pushes the right buttons to lure them to his fold.

And then there's the son of Billy, who sees a storm coming.  "I believe the socialists in this country would like to shut our churches," warns Franklin Graham, evoking visions of his Dad's fiery Red Scare messages in the 1950s.  "Our country is in trouble...thank God for Donald Trump."

So the church is split, at least from the perspective of multi-millionaire evangelical point men. Even so, Christianity Today just last month reported that the man it said should be impeached may still claim the majority of white evangelical votes.  

Friday, October 2, 2020

Good News Blues

THE GOOD NEWS is that the overwhelming majority of Americans are good and decent people.  I know this because friends say I am one.  So good that I get teased for too loosely defending a 72-year-old in our senior basketball league.  "You gotta make him feel you," they cry.  "Play him tough and hard."  

We haven't played ball since last February.  Meantime, the proverbial bad news has come down.  Word is that some of my court critics are also Covid cryers.  They rail about losing their rights by being advised to wear a mask.  "I can do whatever I want.  This is America," they pronounce.  

A few believe that most of the Covid deaths would have happened anyway because the people were old, already sick, or just plain unlucky.  "Anyone who dies becomes a Covid case," they say.  "Besides, if I haven't caught it yet, I'm not going to."  

Good and decent people in many ways.  Yet wrong.  Look at Wisconsin, where friends and family live, and where I grew up.  Nine months in.  Guidance ignored.  Cases rising. Testing and contact tracing falling way behind. Winter coming.

"We know what's making it worse here," Susan Sanvidge, 74, a graphic designer, told a reporter in Oshkosh.  "It's the schools, and it's the bars.  And half of the people think Covid is a hoax anyway."  Others, including health officers, attribute the rising number of cases to cookouts, weddings, birthday parties, and indoor bowling leagues.  Health guidelines ignored, the virus downplayed. 

In Florida, a group of unmasked men and women stormed a Target in Ft. Lauderdale, flouting the store's policy and ridiculing customers who did wear masks.  Making a political, not health, statement: "We're not going to take it anymore."

And now, a month before the election, we're informed the White House and Senate is infected.  With the virus.  Godspeed to us all.  

Image: Yale.edu