...the spousette, her nephew (thirty years my junior) and my brother in Santa Cruz all went to Berning Man, so three-quarters of my immediate circle fell mmoffitt's way. Certainly my sixteen year-old self would have regarded my decision as akin to a primary vote for Humphrey in 1968 (hell, I went to bed on primary night forty-eight years ago pissed off that Kennedy had prevailed, because I thought he had opportunistically swooped in to steal the harvest after Gene McCarthy had tilled the soil. An hour later my old man was shaking me awake).

At the polling place there was a Chinese couple who were having difficulties: they did not speak English, and although there was a translator present the poll workers, who seemed a bit frazzled and whose affect verged on surly, were having a difficult time conveying to them that they were at the wrong polling place. I found myself idly wondering how nuanced an understanding of the issues and personalities involved in the contest the two were actually bringing to bear.

cordially,