Johnson: Caucus satisfies political craving

I despise voting by mail.

I treasure memories of hauling my three young children to the polls so I could demonstrate my dedication to the civic process. In the car, I would tell them about countries where people waited days to cast ballots while we vote, at least in Spokane County, within minutes. The little effort required – the corralling of kids, the driving, the parking – made voting meaningful. These days, I sit at the dining room table, filling in the ballot’s ovals with my black ink pen. The process feels wilted.

So, when Democratic caucus time rolled around, I was hungry for the buzz of a room filled with people who, like me, wanted to feel politically alive. I caucused in 2008 for Obama and remember being slightly mystified by the process. I vaguely remember voting, then racing home to relieve the baby sitter.

This time, my daughter, who turns 18 in June, joined me in the line that stretched from the gymnasium doors around the block through the back parking lot at Salk Middle School. The former political reporter in me quivered excitedly; I could fully reveal my inner government geek to my oldest child.

The crowd’s Bernie fever was apparent. Bernie buttons. Bernie hats. Bernie T-shirts. Bernie in neon-colored grease crayons on a Ford pickup truck. I felt guilty about the outwardly reserved Hillary supporters who surely stood alongside me; I wondered whether I should assure them of my vote for their candidate come November should my first choice fall away.

Inside the gymnasium, numbers stacked vertically on poles alerted us to our precinct’s table. We zigzagged through the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd to our designated spot. A sign informed us there was no precinct committee officer. A young man muttered, “No one here knows what they’re doing.”

A few minutes later, the organizers described the voting process, but a weak microphone created more confusion than clarity. “Can anyone hear the Charlie Brown teacher up there?” said another twentysomething. “Wah-wah-wah.”

As the inscrutable instructions ended, a young man and a middle-aged woman began sorting through the packets on the table. At last, we had our surrogate officers. They scanned the information, clarified the three-step process and collected the ballots. We counted aloud as the woman separated them into three piles: five Clinton, 54 Sanders, one undecided.

After the initial count, a man made his pitch for Bernie, and a woman made her case for Hillary. The undecided voter added her ballot to Bernie’s stack.

We counted aloud again only to discover we’d neglected the absentee ballots. So we started the final count over: 63 Sanders, five Clinton. We chose our delegates – seven Bernie, one Hillary – and headed home.

Despite the chaos, I left heartened to know that thousands of people across Spokane County traded their Saturday morning routine for the messy, nearly three-hour process. We might not all agree on the candidate, but we all came together for the cause.

We made the effort.

Kristina Johnson Morehouse teaches in the Communication Studies Department at Gonzaga University. She is a former reporter for The Spokesman-Review.