I grew up in Ohio. I grew up in a moderately conservative part of the state (suburban Columbus). Among my earliest memories of politics are memories that involve me crying and being mocked by teachers and students. We held a mock election in 3rd grade to mirror the 1988 campaign. I was the only student in the class who would or wanted to be Michael Dukakis. I came in dressed up to play my semi-semitic fellow traveller. I delivered a fine speech. The election results were tallied throughout the school and announced over the PA that afternoon. George HW Bush received the support of 189 students in Emerson Elementary (named, as all Westerville elementaries are, for the great american writer), Michael (Tanks are sexy) Dukakis received 2 (mine and the one of the three African American students). I remember being taunted and told, "How can you support him. He's stupid. He won't win. You're wrong." I cried, which prompted more comments and taunts. So, again, politics in young Aaron's life---not filled with memories of victory or joy. Mainly politics was about getting red in the ears (a sign of my rising passion), raising my voice and occasionally having tears run down my face as I was publicly ridiculed. So, suffice it to say I don't love the political climate of my hometown.
Flash forward 2 years. I'm in 5th grade. I'm more confident (by steps, not strides). I debate with my 5th grade teacher about legalized abortion. This time I don't cry, but I am so forceful that I make Meghan Fahey weep. She was raised Catholic and was traumatized by the fact that I wouldn't agree with her, her parents and the Pope. My teacher scolds me, more for my beliefs than for making Meghan cry. Great teacher, but like so many people in positions of authority here in Westerville---conservative.
Next seminal moment (that I remember as such) is Junior year. Ohio like many (if not all) other states has Boys' State. It's a chance for young men to learn about politics, pad college resumes, be evaluated by scary American Legion members, and further reinforce the buzz cut frat boy image that dominates Ohio young Republican meetings. So I was a sure bet. I figured I was without a chance. I even joked about going in with a flag so that I could burn it and save them the trouble of having to guess about my political leanings. So I wrote my essay...and it was picked. I was going to get to appear with other finalists and get to answer questions as posed by the old (Iowa old) members of the Westerville American Legion.
The Westerville American Legion is off in the woods (closer to Delaware). It's this ramshackle building that looks like something that would deserve a slow zoom in a documentary about the impovershed living conditions of the working poor in Appalachia. But, instead it's the meeting location for Westerville's veterans and general curmudgeon class.
I arrived dressed up and met and milled around with friends also about to stand trial. Included in the bunch were moderates, conservatives, and one radical-veterans'- ass-kissing-Young-Republican-inthecloset-toady, oh, and me. So it was, as Fox would say a balanced group.
We stand and salute the flag. Say the pledge of allegiance, apparently I'd been saying it wrong, there are certain places that you are to pause, and I didn't. Who knew? We then ascend the stairs to the second floor of the aforementioned Blair Witch house. I sit behind two long folding tables covered with a plastic table cloth facing 5 members of the American Legion. Judging from the ages three were WWII, one was Korea or WWII and the 5th was Vietnam. Behind the "judges" were parents (not mine, thankfully).
Each student was asked to draw a question from the basket and answer it. The first round was easy. I got a question about sewers. I answered something about investment in infrastructure and run-off being bad for streams (sportsmen) and farmers. It was fine. Nothing I said created that sound effect from 80s movies of the needle skipping across the record. It was a good showing for young Aaron.
The closeted Republican answered some question about taxes and managed to work in a reference to his desired impending service in the Coast Guard. This revelation was met with smiles and knowing glances. He was going to boys' state but who would join him (2 were slotted to go). Later a friend Zac mentioned his frustration with Korea as the forgotten war (more knowing glances but his slot was not assured).
I started to think I might have a chance. My essay was good, my arguments strong, and my rabid liberal preferences safely hidden by easy questions about sewage and other non-partisan (for my purposes) questions.
Then we got to round two. Round two were more dicey questions and we were allowed to debate with our fellow applicants. Yikes. I thought about it, I could either play the moderate and have a decent shot at Boys' State or I could answer and argue and hope that they would respect me. Given the title of this you can guess which option I took, and you might have a pretty good sense of how that choice panned out.
The 2nd question was to my friend Jeff, who was seated next to me. It was capital punishment. Jeff and I has talked about the issue days before. I knew his answer. He gave it, he supported capital punishment (the reasons escape me, but your basic defense of the position). I asked to respond. I did. Forcefully. The aged vets began to lean forward. I was steadily losing any points I may have accumulated.
I finished my answer and had a familiar warmth in my ears--I was getting into a fight. I figured, "these adults will value honest discourse." NOPE. They didn't ask another question for the next 25 minutes. We spent 25 minutes talking about the death penalty. I was the only panelist against it. The judges, my peers were all for it. Fuck, midway through I angered an audience member (father of Chris Gaul) so much that he stood up and argued with me. It stopped being about the panel, and started to be about trying to denigrate and convince this one liberal. I think for them it was the intellectual equivalent of a pebble in your shoe. It's not the size of the annoyance (power) it's that it disrupts your comfort at all. So I was assaulted. I was asked "do you REALLY think that." I was asked to offer my opinion on murder cases that took place 10 years before my birth, and whether or not certain veterans could save the government money by just "puttin' one between the eyes" of certain felons.
At one point I slid a sheet of paper over to jeff with the words "they are going to put my head on a pike" on it. I left, quickly (for fear of a lynching) and drove home. I was gleeful. I knew I wasn't going to Boys' State but I'd just had a knock down argument with entire room of conservative Westervillians and I wasn't in tears. Publicly assailed, mocked, ridiculed, taunted, and judged--but no tears. It was a recognition that they couldn't get me anymore. I was beyond their reach. Not a bad feeling.
No comments:
Post a Comment