As someone raised in a politically active household, where both parents were staunch liberals working in education, I grew up with an acute awareness of the stakes involved in elections. Public schools, funded by taxes, often found themselves at the mercy of elected officials who despise taxation.
In our home, even minor elections carried a sense of impending doom, reminiscent of a tornado watch in an area not known for storms. Major elections felt like tornado warnings—if the wrong candidate took office, we believed it would spell disaster. In particular, the possibility of a hostile school board member getting elected was particularly terrifying, given that my father was the school superintendent and such individuals often had personal agendas, including getting him fired.
Election nights were filled with anxiety as I lay awake, listening for my parents’ reactions. If they cheered, it meant we were safe—if they cursed or remained silent, it felt like the end of our world.
I vividly recall the 1979 election of Edward King as Governor of Massachusetts, and my mother’s tearful response when I asked if we would have to move in with my grandmother. Her whispered “I hope not” spoke volumes.
Imagine my surprise when, despite the seemingly dire outcomes of various elections, our lives remained largely unchanged. While my parents faced hardships under tax-cutting leaders, our day-to-day existence—the same home, meals, and friends—remained constant.
In a way, my emotional response to elections has become numb since the early ’80s. I recall learning about cilia in high school; those tiny hair-like structures that help filter out toxins. Just like cilia flatten under pressure, my enthusiasm for elections has similarly collapsed over the years. Even the contentious Bush v. Gore situation didn’t shake me to my core.
I still vote and understand the importance of my choices, especially concerning climate change, which remains my top priority. However, many elected officials seem indifferent to this urgent issue. When the results came in this week, I celebrated in my own way—with a lengthy, enjoyable lunch. I refuse to wallow in despair or make drastic claims about relocating. Instead, I recognize the value in striking a balance between caring and not becoming overwhelmed by it all.
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In summary, while elections can shake the political landscape, my personal life remains steadfast, and I prioritize what truly matters to me.