Between a rerun and another war

I attended a DFL rally this weekend with my mom and youngest brother. In addition to hearing from MN Senators Amy Klobuchar and Al Franken and Democratic candidate for governor Mark Dayton, we saw President Obama speak.

The speeches were all eloquent and the tone was highly charged – though it switched from offense to defense more than I’d like. In all, though, what affected me the most didn’t happen when I was listening to the politicians I voted for two or four years ago. It was in the five hour line that preceded the rally itself that I saw both the best and worst of politics taking place.

The worst
Early on, we ran into a woman handing out antagonistic flyers. My mom, annoyed by this first woman, refused another further down the way. She assumed this lady was also a Tea Party-esque protester when in fact, she was passing out flyers regarding peace policies and shutting down Guantanamo Bay. She nearly sneered at my mom and began lecturing her until we were able to move past. My mom, slightly bewildered, said to me, “It’s just so hard to know what they stand for, and if you’re really on their side or not, when they’re so angry.” She was right. Politicos often become so enveloped by their cause that they are embittered; anyone who isn’t standing on the front lines is an enemy instead of a potential supporter. From the outside, it’s easy to diagnose their policies’ inevitable failures as self-fulfilling prophecies- their bubbling rage the nail in the coffin. It was so frustrating to see my mom’s confusion. Why is this woman, who I ultimately agree with, yelling at me?

The best
A group of women dressed like psychotic roosters (The Radical Roosters, their jackets said) paraded down the line squawking and holding up signs that said ‘No More Wars!’. A 10-year-old boy standing in front of us pointed them out to his dad, who was wearing a US Armed Forces jacket. His dad agreed that they were funny, then gave a short age-appropriate lesson on the importance of looking at all sides of an issue. I texted myself some of the better parts of his mini-speech and it went something like this:

“You’re right, they do look pretty funny huh? I don’t agree with what they’re doing though. They are saying that we should stop all wars but it’s not so easy as that. You can’t just dress up in a funny costume and make demands. I was over in Iraq and Afghanistan, remember? And I know that those countries needed us, they needed my unit to help them at least for awhile. War isn’t something that you can just say, let’s never do that again. You have to think about what’s at risk if you do go to war or if you don’t. For every big decision that politicians or militaries have to make, you can’t just rely on a cool sign and a costume. You have to really think about everyone who will be affected. Do you understand?”

The dad and son continued to talk, as I continued to creep on them and listen to the best parenting lesson I’ve ever witnessed firsthand. I reminded myself that my interest in politics shouldn’t be rooted in anger towards people like Michele Bachmann, or in loving support of every syllable that comes out of Al Franken’s mouth. It should be in the policies and the consequences of the policies that these elected officials enact. Not exactly a new thought, I know- but it’s hard to keep this in perspective between the mud-slinging and theatrics of election season.

In fact, only 24 hours after I made my ‘look at the gray area’ vow, I made a really snotty remark about the Republican candidate for Governor. Tom Emmer has a history of drinking and driving, as do several people who have worked on his campaign. When I casually referenced this as a reason not to vote for him, my friend called me on it. He asked me what that had to do with his candidacy or ability to run a state. He was right. (Sort of.) I had pulled a “Radical Rooster” without meaning to, and I apologized before stating my real opinion. I think Tom Emmer would make a terrible governor for a thousand reasons that have nothing to do with his inability to call a taxi after hitting the bar.