I live in a Super Tuesday state. So, Tuesday morning I dragged my butt down to my new polling location, stood in line (in the rain) for an hour and voted in the primary. I got really wet, but that was okay. There was no way my candidate was going to win in Tennessee. That was okay too. After all, at least all I had to do was drive my decently running car a mile down the road and wait in peace outside a church while chatting with the folks around me. It’s not like I had to walk two days, fear for my life, and dodge bullets in order to cast my vote. I’m a lucky girl. We, here in America, are all lucky in this respect.
I’m gonna be honest. I broke my Lenten fast while watching the results come in. The results themselves were pretty much what I expected, but the speeches were just something I couldn’t take while stone cold sober.
Then I made a grave mistake. The same mistake that millions across the country made.
I took my confusion to social media.
Dear God, help me. Trying to have a civilized conversation about politics on Facebook makes about as much sense as trying to convince a toddler that nap-time is fun. HOPELESS. You’d think I’d know – I’ve had five toddlers.
The vitriol and name calling makes me feel like I’m living inside some dystopian young adult novel. Which District are we in? And what is the world coming to?
So here’s what I’m going to do:
Tomorrow morning I’m going to leave early and go spend the weekend with my best friend in a town 200 miles from both of our homes. We live six hours apart and this will be the first trip we have ever taken alone together. And we’ve been best friends since we were thirteen. Twenty-six years is a long time to go without a girls’ weekend.
What does this have to do with elections? Well, Jenny and I met in 1990. Back in the days when politics was very much an adult-only concern. Five years away from voting, our hot topic issues were how we scored on the quiz at the back of Sassy magazine, which bands were the coolest, and whether any boy (or our parents for that matter) would ever get us. We bonded over our hopes and our insecurities; our talents and our failings; our mutual love for combat boots and The Breakfast Club. Through countless other relationships, cross-country moves, colleges, and jobs, we STAYED bonded.
Today, Jenny is a doctor. I’m a… whatever I am. Jenny has two kids. I have five kids. Jenny has a body that would make Jillian Michaels jealous. I… had five kids. I’m a liberal democrat. Jenny is… my best friend and I couldn’t care less.
Really. I DON’T CARE.
I’ve never asked. She’s never asked. I imagine that we don’t agree on everything. After all, I don’t agree with anyone on everything. But I know this for sure: I know Jenny is smart. I know Jenny has a good heart. I know whatever political opinions she has, she’s reached them after careful consideration. And I know she feels the same way about me.
I could ask, I guess. It is, after all, the biggest issue on the national stage right now. We could spend our one and only weekend together trying to win each other over or celebrating our political unity. It’s important, right? How we feel about government spending and immigration and national security and Planned Parenthood? But what a freaking waste of a beautiful mountain retreat.
Nope.
I plan to go and talk about our kids. About our husbands. About our parents. About how things have or haven’t worked out the way we imagined. I plan to walk in the woods and play with her hair and cry into a plate of over-priced dinner, fully aware that she will be crying into a plate of over-priced lunch tomorrow. Because we make room for each other’s tears. And we make room for each other’s opinions. And we almost never, ever, meet up on Facebook.
Joannie Bohn
Well, Sweet Girl, let me share something with you. Kids and husbands are so much more exciting to share about than politics. The world will keep on going and get better or worse in spite of us. Our job is to give our kids a moral compass to live by and to be a good helpmate to our husbands. From the sound of it you have been both. I am so proud of how my children have turned out and the hard path we had to get here. When I was left with 5 kids to raise, ages 7-13, on $400 a month child support, I was in a tight spot. And no politician helped me out. I turned to my faith in God and got a minimum wage job in a school so I could be with them. In the summer, we picked pickles in our rural neighborhood and I must say it gave my kids a wonderful work ethic. I realized that no matter how I voted or who won, life would still go on and we would make the best of it. God blessed me with a wonderful husband and I prayed for a child so he could experience fatherhood from the beginning. I was over 41 when our daughter was born, and she is now a wonderful surgical nurse. Next month I will be 76. Maybe I won’t even be here for the November election. But I know life will still go on and I will have left behind 6 wonderful children who will make a difference in this world. Love you, Jen.
Jen
Oh Joannie, thank you so much. I see with every comment you make and every note you send, just why my mother loved you so. Hugs.
Geoff
How beautifully you write of the most important things in life. You have blossomed into such a luminary.
Tamara
Jen, I can so relate to your “Primary State” experience. I happen to live in Iowa, the crazy Caucus state. I did not caucus because the format causes a lot of arguing… oh and then there is the coin toss if your place is deadlocked in a tie. Yep, a coin toss. Meeting with a friend to escape the wave of political insanity sounds perfect. I hope you had a great time. BTW I am a liberal Democrat with 5 kids! Have an amazing weekend! Tee♥
Jennifer
Your writing resonates with me… we seem to have little in common. I have one child and a full time career, my husband has stayed at home with him most of his life and has recently reentered the work force. You are a liberal democrat, me a republican. But I’m not so married to my ideas that I must beat a drum to convert others. I don’t follow politics closely but it’s overwhelming right now on social media to be sure.
But, my best friend and I (also since high school) couldn’t be more different. We still love each other, but she is a liberal democrat and told me once she’s actually a socialist, which couldn’t be further from my own beliefs.
You know what?
I don’t care!
Still love her to pieces, we talk about anything and everything when we see each other (she lives abroad now) and we just agree not to talk about politics. It’s easier now that she doesn’t live here.
I don’t understand the vitriol either. Thanks for a great post. I hope you had fun on girl’s night out.
Jen
Jennifer,
Thank you so much for commenting. I was really struck by your statement that “we seem to have little in common.” I really appreciate you taking the time to comment even so. It’s so interesting that we feel the need to seek out people “just like us.”
As I read your comment I was struck by just how much we DO have in common. You are a woman. I am a woman. You work. I work. You are a mother. I am a mother. You are married. I am married. You love your friend. I love my friend. You are appalled by the vitriol. I am appalled by the vitriol. You care enough about your country to have an opinion. I care enough about my country to have an opinion.
Indeed, there is more than unites us than divides us.
Blessings.