Growing up in a household where my parents were passionate progressives and educators, I learned early on how much public schools rely on taxes—a concept that some politicians seem to loathe.
In our home, even minor elections felt like an ominous weather alert, akin to a tornado watch in a region that rarely sees storms. Major elections, though? Those felt like full-blown tornado warnings: if the wrong person became president, we were doomed. If a certain individual snagged the governorship, we were in trouble. And if someone with a grudge against my father, the school superintendent, got elected to the school board? Well, that was a recipe for disaster.
Election night would come, and I’d lie awake, straining to hear the sounds that would determine our fate. If I heard cheers and applause, it was a sign we’d be okay. But if swearing filled the air or—worse—silence followed, I braced for the worst.
When Edward King became the Governor of Massachusetts in 1979, I asked my mom if we’d have to crash at my grandmother’s place. Through tears, she simply replied, “I hope not.”
Imagine my surprise, then, when elections came and went, and life remained remarkably unchanged. Sure, my parents felt the sting of tax-cutters and dishonest politicians, but our home, meals, and friendships stayed the same. Year after year, we lived our lives without upheaval.
Remember those tiny hair-like structures called cilia from high school biology? They flatten out in response to toxins, like smoke. Over time, if exposed enough, they might just give up entirely, leading to a host of health issues. I’d say my political cilia went dormant around 1982 and haven’t quite recovered since. Even the controversial Bush v. Gore election didn’t shake me too much, even though I recognized the chaos it stirred.
I’m a consistent voter and always know my reasons for casting my ballot. But let’s be real: the only pressing issue that truly matters is climate change, and many of those who got elected last Tuesday either shrug it off or outright deny its existence. My response? A delightful three-hour lunch the following day. So forgive me if I’m not devastated or threatening to relocate to France; I recognize the importance of caring, but I also see the value in not getting too worked up over things beyond my control.
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Summary:
In this reflective piece, Jamie Thomas shares a personal account of growing up in a politically charged household, where the outcomes of elections felt like looming storms. Despite the tumultuous political climate and significant elections, life remained largely unchanged, leading to a sense of political fatigue. While committed to voting and aware of critical issues like climate change, Jamie adopts a lighthearted approach to the unpredictability of politics, choosing to focus on enjoying life rather than despairing over election results.