the beautiful struggle (original) (raw)

Four years ago I voted by absentee ballot so I could phonebank with my union. This year I didn't have the luxury of taking a day off.

So this morning I woke up in the dim early-morning light, put on my bathrobe, fed the cats, put a CD in like I do most every morning.

I got a part to play

Toast and eggs for breakfast, like most mornings, with a glass of orange juice. Another article in The Nation while I ate, like most mornings. Did the dishes right away instead of leaving them in the sink. Didn't turn on the computer.

battle in the wilderness of North America

Went over my schedule for the day in my head as I showered, like most mornings, including my lesson plans since it's a teaching day. Dressed, played with the cats, packed my lunch and my backpack. Warm today, clear skies, no rain forecast until late afternoon. I put on my biking gloves and stood for a few seconds with my eyes closed, just breathing, just listening to the sounds of my house where I live in this place that I love doing the work that I am meant to do in the world. Just being grateful for that, like I should do every morning.

when you got a dream you gotta follow that

Between the house and the garage, leaves crunched under my feet. Overhead the geese were calling out to each other and arrowing east from the lake in long ragged Vs; they must turn south somewhere out past the edge of town. At the edge of the alley I turned right instead of left, then left instead of right, taking a street parallel to my usual one but further south, not going to campus yet. The early morning streets this side of downtown were small-town quiet, like most mornings.

But when I turned onto the street where my polling place is located, I started to see people: little knots of students clutching their coffees, a dad on a bicycle towing his kid in a bike trailer, a couple of white-haired ladies in a big slow-moving Chevy, all drifting down the street. I parked my bike outside the church; an elderly couple coming out held the door for me as I went in. No lines, just a steady trickle of people coming and going.

I had to repeat my name twice for the grandfatherly man holding the binder with my half of the alphabet. I signed and took my confirmation slip and traded it for a ballot and and pen and went into a booth. Inside, I had to close my eyes again and just breathe for a minute, just breathe and try not to cry.

Four or maybe five minutes later I slipped my ballot through the counter, placed my "I VOTED" sticker on my lapel, kicked up my bikestand and headed back the way I'd come, then turned towards campus. On the corner by the main entrance, students held up signs and waved to me and gave me thumbs-up when I pointed to my sticker.

we fightin' the good fight

There will be more work to do, because there is always work to do. There will be more fights ahead, because there is always something to fight for. But on this ordinary day, we hope for something extraordinary. We move forward, together, in the belief that change is possible, together, that we can be part of something larger than ourselves, that we can make history today.

Yes. Yes we can. Yes.