Four years ago I sat on the middle section of my brown, leather couch tucked away in a corner of my first Brooklyn apartment. The lights were dim. The only sound came from the television as I sat and watched the polls being tallied for the Presidential election.
That night, once the results were in, it felt eerie to be in the house alone. I wanted to be among a crowd of celebrants, jumping up and down in an expression of excited emotion for what I was watching on the screen.
President Barack Hussein Obama reminded me of my daddy. There was an heir of cool about him that warmed my heart, especially as he looked at his family lovingly and emanated humanity and compassion in the soothing tones of his delivery. I welled with tears of joy.
Last night, on the couch of my first apartment in Maryland I watched in anticipation. I was very clear of the bedtime story that I wanted to lull me to sleep. I flipped back and forth watching different news broadcasts and my facebook news feed go live with projections and worry, and with stories of chaos at the polls. I reserved anxiety and waited calmly.
The final speeches came well after midnight; there was talk of controversy and reluctance to concede until about 12:45am. When I was finally able to call my mom I heard such joy in her voice as she boasted that ALL of her children had voted (even me with my absentee ballot madness) and that she was so proud of what she saw today as she went to cast her vote. She described crowds of young people ecstatic to vote for the first time and elders, some above 90 in years, making their way through the lines as well. Her energy had me fired up and made me feel proud.
Last time, I watched the inaugural address in an auditorium at the high school where I worked at the time. This year, I'm within an hour of the capital. I'm planning my winter outfit because I will be there among the millions.
Let the healing of the nation get to places we've never been before!
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
Monday, November 5, 2012
Adventures in Absentee Voting!
A few months back, I had the absentee ballot application in my hand. I was being proactive, not doing my typical wait-to-the-last-minute procrastination...And then I convinced myself that I didn't need to send it because I planned to go home.
That plan had me in New York some time toward the end of last week...and then there was Hurricane Sandy. Needless to say, it's election eve and I'm still in the DMV.
Around Thursday evening, when the full restoration of the City looked bleak, I started to panic. I needed a plan B.
I began to make calls, and after several busy signals and being sent to voicemail at least 20 times, I finally reached someone at the Queens Board of Elections who was able to give me direct numbers for the offices in Brooklyn where I'm a registered voter. In the final hours of the workday on Friday, I discovered that I could still submit my absentee application for the extended deadline. I ran to the post office and mailed a hard copy, and just before 5pm, I got through to fax a copy of the same form. A classmate and I were in the same boat, so we both held our breath and waited for the mail that would house the envelope that would have all the forms for us to cast our vote.
At about 1:30pm today, while in a meeting on campus, I got a notice in my email account that there was a package waiting for me at the front desk. My first thought was that it was something I'd recently ordered from Amazon. I had errands to run, so I wouldn't make it home until after 5pm, when I would learn that the package was indeed USPS express mail from the Board of Elections. I freeze in panic; I knew I'd missed the opportunity to get it filled out and in the mail at the local post office which closed at 5.
As a New Yorker, I immediately start trying to find the 24hr post office facility. I searched online, asked at the front desk, and inquired of everyone at the Office Max that I entered down the block from my home in search of somewhere to get the precious package on its way to New York.
Almost defeated, I returned to my apartment. Still scheming and strategizing; at this point, it's 7:00pm. I started searching online for the customer service number to FedEx, and reached someone who quoted astronomical fees for same day delivery and told me it was unlikely that my package would reach its destination because of the chaos that is still New York, post-hurricane. I didn't lose faith, although I got a little worried as I read the rules for returning absentee ballots on the state website. The words: MUST BE POST-MARKED THE DAY BEFORE THE ELECTION sent me into overdrive. I called the local FedEx stores.
The first one confirmed that she could get my package to its destination, but I wouldn't reach her store before its 8pm closing. I didn't lose hope, and was encouraged by the fact that she shared with me the details for a store that gave me 45 minutes more to make it there. I double checked for my ballot, pocketed some cash, grabbed my keys and headed to the red line in the direction of Farragut North.
On the platform I grew excited; the arrivals board said that a train would be approaching the station within 3 minutes. The DMV uses flashing lights on the train platform to let you know that your train is approaching. The lights start flashing and I'm ready to get on board...except that train, and the one immediately following, would be picking up NO PASSENGERS. Really.
I had enough travel time ahead of me, so I waited patiently. Before long, I arrived at the stop and made it to the streets in no time. Except one little thing: I had no clue where I was going. It was dark. I just started walking. About a block down I see in big, blue and white letters the FedEx insignia and a little red neon sign glowing through the window indicating its status as open, just like the woman on the phone said it would be. Whew. I was almost there.
When I walked inside, however, there was a short man sitting behind the "Pack & Ship" desk. He sounded nothing like the heavy DC accented woman who'd assisted me, but hey, as long as he could help me, I didn't care.
I told him what I needed, and his facial expression indicated a problem; the last shipment had left for this store, already...before I could panic though, he was walking from behind the counter to escort me to the door where he would show me how to get to the store a few blocks over where I could get what I needed.
Time is creeping away. But, I'm running, determined. I turn the corner at the bank just like he told me. In my mind I would immediately encounter another brightly lit store with neon sign, signaling my arrival. I saw nothing. But kept walking. Finally, past a parking garage and a few other dimly lit office buildings, I see it.
I'm walking upon the door, ready to handle this business, and there's a woman, dressed in uniform approaching the door from the other side. In her hand she has a rectangular blue sign with writing that she's placing on the door and preparing to walk away. I can't make out the words, but I just know this sign says "Closed". I looked at her with THE most pitiful face ever. Package in hand, I let out a sigh of "please, No" that I'm certain she couldn't hear at all. I adjust my puppy-dog eyes as she opens the door and welcomes me. She wasn't closing, but was alerting customers she'd be back in 10 minutes. She prolonged her short respite to accommodate me.
Within 5 minutes, the envelopes were sealed, money exchanged, and my vote was on its way. WHEW!!!
While I have my own thoughts about politics, I am very clear about what my ancestors endured. I was not willing to let their blood, their lives, and their dreams be in vain. This one was for them. OUR voice, our vote, is on the way.
That plan had me in New York some time toward the end of last week...and then there was Hurricane Sandy. Needless to say, it's election eve and I'm still in the DMV.
Around Thursday evening, when the full restoration of the City looked bleak, I started to panic. I needed a plan B.
I began to make calls, and after several busy signals and being sent to voicemail at least 20 times, I finally reached someone at the Queens Board of Elections who was able to give me direct numbers for the offices in Brooklyn where I'm a registered voter. In the final hours of the workday on Friday, I discovered that I could still submit my absentee application for the extended deadline. I ran to the post office and mailed a hard copy, and just before 5pm, I got through to fax a copy of the same form. A classmate and I were in the same boat, so we both held our breath and waited for the mail that would house the envelope that would have all the forms for us to cast our vote.
At about 1:30pm today, while in a meeting on campus, I got a notice in my email account that there was a package waiting for me at the front desk. My first thought was that it was something I'd recently ordered from Amazon. I had errands to run, so I wouldn't make it home until after 5pm, when I would learn that the package was indeed USPS express mail from the Board of Elections. I freeze in panic; I knew I'd missed the opportunity to get it filled out and in the mail at the local post office which closed at 5.
As a New Yorker, I immediately start trying to find the 24hr post office facility. I searched online, asked at the front desk, and inquired of everyone at the Office Max that I entered down the block from my home in search of somewhere to get the precious package on its way to New York.
Almost defeated, I returned to my apartment. Still scheming and strategizing; at this point, it's 7:00pm. I started searching online for the customer service number to FedEx, and reached someone who quoted astronomical fees for same day delivery and told me it was unlikely that my package would reach its destination because of the chaos that is still New York, post-hurricane. I didn't lose faith, although I got a little worried as I read the rules for returning absentee ballots on the state website. The words: MUST BE POST-MARKED THE DAY BEFORE THE ELECTION sent me into overdrive. I called the local FedEx stores.
The first one confirmed that she could get my package to its destination, but I wouldn't reach her store before its 8pm closing. I didn't lose hope, and was encouraged by the fact that she shared with me the details for a store that gave me 45 minutes more to make it there. I double checked for my ballot, pocketed some cash, grabbed my keys and headed to the red line in the direction of Farragut North.
On the platform I grew excited; the arrivals board said that a train would be approaching the station within 3 minutes. The DMV uses flashing lights on the train platform to let you know that your train is approaching. The lights start flashing and I'm ready to get on board...except that train, and the one immediately following, would be picking up NO PASSENGERS. Really.
I had enough travel time ahead of me, so I waited patiently. Before long, I arrived at the stop and made it to the streets in no time. Except one little thing: I had no clue where I was going. It was dark. I just started walking. About a block down I see in big, blue and white letters the FedEx insignia and a little red neon sign glowing through the window indicating its status as open, just like the woman on the phone said it would be. Whew. I was almost there.
When I walked inside, however, there was a short man sitting behind the "Pack & Ship" desk. He sounded nothing like the heavy DC accented woman who'd assisted me, but hey, as long as he could help me, I didn't care.
I told him what I needed, and his facial expression indicated a problem; the last shipment had left for this store, already...before I could panic though, he was walking from behind the counter to escort me to the door where he would show me how to get to the store a few blocks over where I could get what I needed.
Time is creeping away. But, I'm running, determined. I turn the corner at the bank just like he told me. In my mind I would immediately encounter another brightly lit store with neon sign, signaling my arrival. I saw nothing. But kept walking. Finally, past a parking garage and a few other dimly lit office buildings, I see it.
I'm walking upon the door, ready to handle this business, and there's a woman, dressed in uniform approaching the door from the other side. In her hand she has a rectangular blue sign with writing that she's placing on the door and preparing to walk away. I can't make out the words, but I just know this sign says "Closed". I looked at her with THE most pitiful face ever. Package in hand, I let out a sigh of "please, No" that I'm certain she couldn't hear at all. I adjust my puppy-dog eyes as she opens the door and welcomes me. She wasn't closing, but was alerting customers she'd be back in 10 minutes. She prolonged her short respite to accommodate me.
Within 5 minutes, the envelopes were sealed, money exchanged, and my vote was on its way. WHEW!!!
While I have my own thoughts about politics, I am very clear about what my ancestors endured. I was not willing to let their blood, their lives, and their dreams be in vain. This one was for them. OUR voice, our vote, is on the way.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
This was NOT just a test of the Emergency Broadcast System.
Last week this time, I got up at the crack of dawn to begin preparations. After laundry and two runs to the grocery store for supplies, I prepared dinner and my emergency kit, and then I waited. As dusk approached, the rains and powerful winds made themselves known. In my apartment, alone, I cozied up on the couch under my blankets and prayed that it didn't get worse.
For over 24 hours, Sandy wreaked havoc. I was nervous. I kept calling home and finding things to watch on television that would help keep me distracted, silently praying that the power wouldn't go out forcing me to bare this in the dark AND alone.
Days later, the Northeast is STILL "recovering". New York, New Jersey, and Staten Island are among the places hardest hit, where people's homes sit submerged in murky waters. Some have died. Others are struggling to find ways to restore normalcy, while some are being overcome by the impact of the devastation.
Train stations were under water and there were gas stations with no gas, causing 3-4 hour long waiting lines for free buses and crowds of people to gather at any stations where there were signs of fuel.
There is madness: robberies, people acting crazy for fuel. But there is also lots of love; facebook is overflowing with status updates sharing info about where the help is and how to pitch in to help those who need it the most.
In some ways I wish I were there. I wish that I could have been on my way to the emergency shelters to support families. I wish I could have been there for my family, especially my mom, who, at 61 years old, has been trekking to work through the chaos to be there for others.
In my heart I know that physically being there isn't the only way. I have prayed, I have checked in with people back home, and I've prayed some more. I guess what some of this reinforces is that my work around healing for my dissertation is very timely and very necessary. I will continue to pray, and keep pushing on.
God's choicest blessings and comfort to everyone in the Northeast, the Caribbean, and beyond who have endured the Katrina's, Sandy's, the MAAFAs, and the everyday catastrophes and storms.
For over 24 hours, Sandy wreaked havoc. I was nervous. I kept calling home and finding things to watch on television that would help keep me distracted, silently praying that the power wouldn't go out forcing me to bare this in the dark AND alone.
Days later, the Northeast is STILL "recovering". New York, New Jersey, and Staten Island are among the places hardest hit, where people's homes sit submerged in murky waters. Some have died. Others are struggling to find ways to restore normalcy, while some are being overcome by the impact of the devastation.
Train stations were under water and there were gas stations with no gas, causing 3-4 hour long waiting lines for free buses and crowds of people to gather at any stations where there were signs of fuel.
There is madness: robberies, people acting crazy for fuel. But there is also lots of love; facebook is overflowing with status updates sharing info about where the help is and how to pitch in to help those who need it the most.
In some ways I wish I were there. I wish that I could have been on my way to the emergency shelters to support families. I wish I could have been there for my family, especially my mom, who, at 61 years old, has been trekking to work through the chaos to be there for others.
In my heart I know that physically being there isn't the only way. I have prayed, I have checked in with people back home, and I've prayed some more. I guess what some of this reinforces is that my work around healing for my dissertation is very timely and very necessary. I will continue to pray, and keep pushing on.
God's choicest blessings and comfort to everyone in the Northeast, the Caribbean, and beyond who have endured the Katrina's, Sandy's, the MAAFAs, and the everyday catastrophes and storms.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)