I have voted on election day ever since I got knocked silly and bloody when I turned to wave at Blondie in the cafeteria back in 1972.
That was at Iowa State University, where I was an 'A' student, despite my interests and diversions. Anyway, I'll get back to a bit on that in a moment.
I do want to encourage you to get out and vote today -- November 3 -- if you have not. Don't be afraid of crowds.
I had expected long lines today at my precinct, but I got through the whole process in 10 minutes.
I was going to wear my "Obama Hope" T-shirt, but thought that might offend or even be judged "political." So, I thought long and hard before making my choice: John Lennon "Working Class Hero" seemed to fit my mood and my ballot.
As I walked down the ramp into the church gym where I vote, I thought again of Professor Mary Kirkham, my English and creative writing teacher back in the fall of 1972.
Back then, there was no such thing as early voting, so on election eve in my 2 p.m. class, she said: "Many of you are voting for the first time tomorrow. My advice: 'Vote your hopes, not your fears.'"
I offer similar advice today, if you've note voted yet. Be optimistic. Think of what our country can be, but that it's not. And don't be an asshole. Oh, if you don't know how to vote: Don't do it. This is no time for ignorance or assholes.
And, finally, let me tell the story of that first vote in 1972, when Richard Nixon faced George McGovern.
I was excited about voting in the Commons, the shared space where the men's dorm (I was in Larch Hall, last room on the left of the north end, where smoke and beer cans often escaped from the window at all hours of day or night.).
There were two women's dorms, and that was fine, as I always have liked women better than men, unless they are in a rock band.
I finished my meal in the cafeteria, with Jocko (who didn't and probably doesn't vote), Carpy, Nardholm, Titzy, Captain Kirk and maybe Dog Shit or Benjie. I finished my food, put the tray on the conveyor and hastily went to the right, going toward the door toward the commons. I heard my name. A girl's voice.
Maybe it was Blondie. I can't remember, but she was a great young woman. Blondie, if you are out there, I still miss you.
So I turned while walking full-speed ahead and ran into a concrete pillar. The corner of the pillar gashed me on my left eyebrow and I also went down. Likely a concussion. Mind-altering, to say the least, but I generally enjoyed such mental adventures. Blood flowed on my face and to my hands, so my friends and I got some paper towels and I held them there so I could vote, even as the blood flowed.
When the vote was concluded, Jocko took me in his brown muscle car -- a Dodge of some sort, I think ... I only drove it once when Jocko got stopped for DUI and the cops told me to drive it back to the dorm while they hauled him in. I expected them to stop me and give me a DUI as well. But somehow, they let me drive it to the lot while they took Jocko to the place I'd scouted out myself thanks to the Beach Boys. That's another story.
Jocko took me to the campus hospital, where my nicks, scrapes and bruises often raised smiles among the doctors. 'Old Champo, at it again.... Can you believe this guy is an 'A' student?'
Anyway, they stitched me up at the hospital.
I think Jocko and I decided that we had time for a quick stop at Tork's Pub and before I knew it election day was over by the time we got back to the dorm.
The moral: Even if you get knocked out by a concrete pillar and blood flows down your face like you are in a Scorsese film, it is worth putting a paper towel on your eyebrow, and go on to vote. But please, don't be an asshole.
And if you have a friend like Jocko, see if you can find Tork's Pub afterward.
Happy election day 2020.
To finish the story, I should add that just as I did today, I voted in 1972 for hope, not fear. Fear won out ... at least until the Watergate break-in.
And both Nixon and McGovern now are dead.
