Iowa Caucus memories

My father was standing with a scrum of supporters for one presidential candidate; my mother was in the camp for another. Dad’s group was one person shy of having enough people to elect a delegate to the convention. Mom’s candidate was short by a number of voters and appeared unable to muster enough support to elect even one delegate.

Dad decided to make his move. A tall and imposing man, he sauntered over to my rather petite mother, smiled ingratiatingly and said, “Dear, we need just one more person to elect a delegate, while your group isn’t even close. Come on over to our camp and make your vote count.”

Immediately, Mom was surrounded by supporters for her candidate.

“Don’t let him bully you,” warned one man, glaring at my father.

I could tell by the narrowing of her eyes that my mother was about to become the proverbial immovable force. “Why don’t you join us instead?” she sniffed, crossing her arms as her fellow caucus-goers nodded in agreement.

Of course, as their daughter, I thoroughly enjoyed the public stand-off between my parents. Great color copy for a budding reporter! But it was just one of many such examples of the bartering and negotiations that take place when neighbors and family members are forced to take a public stance—literally and physically—for the candidates and issues that they support.

In the end, the two camps cut a deal—agreeing to join forces behind one candidate but adopting the party platform of the other. I have no idea whether our democracy was better for that compromise. But I think my parents’ marriage probably was. This year they celebrated 60 years of wedded and politically-engaged bliss.

Soon after that caucus, I cast my ultimate life vote—with my feet—by moving to Massachusetts, home of the secret ballot. And while I ultimately prefer the secret ballot to the public caucus, there is a lot to be said for a democratic process that forces all of us to stand up for what we believe and to stand by our words.