In the run-up to our recent local primary election, I posted to our listserv the idea that we had an opportunity here in VT to bring (former Maryland Governor) Martin O’Malley into much greater focus. A well-known, notably liberal woman of high standing in the legal community here sent me an email in which she mentioned she “does not waste her vote–” meaning, I presumed, that she was going to cast her vote for the establishment candidate–in order to give Hillary a resounding victory. She wanted to signal the weightyness of support emanating here from VT. Kind of a tough-guy stance–don’t-mess-with-us effect, I guess she intended.
Much to my surprise, I let that let’s-stand-firm-together message get to me. When I got to the voting booth later, I let my eye run down the list of options, and noted Martin O’Malley’s name was still on the ballot! I eyed it nervously–for only a minute. Then I placed my x in the box next to Hillary’s name.
And now I’m sorry I did that. I did waste my vote. In my subterranean effort to belong, to be a big girl and join with the strong thinkers who presume on their numbers, to play the game right, I failed to stand beside the even better candidate. At the very moment when casting about and exploring options was the whole point of the primary task. Worse than that. I failed to stand beside my man, to honor my own not insignificant hours of listening to debate broadcasts, to reading published analyses.
As if my own substantial view of Human Being, which has been my specialty for 50-plus years, was not well grounded. Trustworthy. Clear and knowledgeable.
And I let Martin O’Malley fall. Into oblivion.
Martin O’Malley is the better candidate!
And we ne-eed clean candidates, who aren’t carrying the baggage unfortunately attached to the Clintons, and would attach, one more time, to the presidency should Hillary win. I’m so sorry that’s true, but it is. So I’m going to organize a write-in campaign to get O’Malley back in the saddle. My voice is not insignificant. And neither are modern electronic communications, which can go viral just at the turn of any old whim our youth–and our idealistic aged–deem just romantic enough.
For sure, I can claim full honors in the romantic camp. I’m gonna get up on my horse and ride.