Voting Day in Walden

*and why I voted for Donald Trump

We put a coffee cake in the oven and headed to the polling place early Tuesday morning, kids in tow. The parking lot was full and the cars had spilled over into the lot next door. I made my way across the lot and toward the Walden Town Hall with my family, spotting exactly one Harris bumper sticker and one Trump bumper sticker on the way.

Walden is not a town where people have been particularly loud about the Trump/Harris divide. They appear to have been more fired up about the local races. On the strip of lawn between the parking lot and the street, there were bouquets of political signs both stuck in the ground and held up by the people in baseball caps, waving at cars.

There were the people campaigning for Michele Reneau—candidate for TN Representative, district 27—with their red signs that read “faith, family, freedom” and “conservative Republican.” I met Michele once at a community picnic, and I know a few of her friends and supporters: crunchy homeschooling moms who vigilantly monitor Tennessee legislation. Her opponent, Kathy Lennon, had her supporters there, too. I'd never met Kathy but I'd read plenty of her ads and postcards. She wants to build bridges; to leave politics behind; and to keep politicians out of the doctor's office (a euphemism for abortion rights). She also claims that a vote for Michele Reneau equals crumbling highways. (I'm not sure if these are supposed to be literal or metaphorical highways, but I am dubious, either way.)

Then, there was the even more contentious local race: Lizzy Schmidt vs. Lou Ziebold, whose signs decorate every bit of public grass in town. I must admit that at first I was drawn to those color-saturated Lou Ziebold signs: white lettering with a red background, a strip of blue, TN stars thrown in. Lizzy Schmidt's signs, by contrast—green letters on white background—looked a bit tame. A bit too much (if I am honest) like Kathy Lennon's signs.

The main issue facing our community is whether they build a big grocery store or a small one. Frankly, I don't care too much. But guess what? Lizzy (in favor of the small grocery store) knocked on our door and talked to us for about 15 minutes and thereby earned our vote (she was kind, friendly, sincere, and likable), whereas Lou only sent postcards. (Kinda grumpy ones, too.)

And there was Lizzy outside the polling place, under a white tent, waving at people. She waved at me as I crossed, and I saw a flicker of recognition on her face: Could it be that she actually remembered our epic fifteen-minute conversation about the virtues of small grocery stores??

We got in line behind and 85-year-old man and chatted with him. If people were annoyed to see our four children there, they didn't say so; they smiled and told us our kids were cute. No one asked “why aren't they in school?” or “have you figured out what causes that?”.

Nobody talked politics in line. Nobody was wearing political hats or t-shirts. No one was looking at anyone else askance. Everyone's photo ID was carefully checked. There were no signs of riots or civil war on the streets of Walden. Though on occasion I grumble to myself about southern politeness and lack of transparency, I was grateful for it on Tuesday. I remembered that this is why I was drawn to the south: Strangers will be friendly to you in public. It's humanizing.

As the poll worker checked my ID and handed me my ballot, I thought back to all those times I voted in Illinois. It always seemed like a cold, dark, grim thing (the weather didn't help), something you had to do and get over with, like going to the dentist. (Apologies to any dentists out there). I always voted very, very reluctantly for people like Mitt Romney and John McCain. The Democratic candidates were more interesting. All the hip Obama folks were partying while I was sitting there with my boring old John McCain or whomever.

But I had to vote my conscience.

**I had to vote pro-life.

In 2016 I refrained from voting: I could not support either Hilary Clinton or the man I considered to be an amoral womanizing billionaire turned reality TV star posing as a conservative. He was, to borrow someone else's phrase, “an unserious man.”

I cried in 2016 when I found that Donald Trump had been elected. What has America come to? Give me some milquetoast uncool dorky republican who poses in ads with a cheesy white smile surrounded by blond children dressed in blue...anyone but Donald Trump. What on earth is going on here?

But by 2020, I'd had a change of heart, and I stood in line at the Walden Town Hall to cast my vote for Donald Trump.

And during the Biden administration, my support for DT grew double, triple, quadruple. To sum it up, I will say this:

1. I get that his personality isn't everyone's cup of tea. But we're not voting for aesthetics, here. And I don't believe that Trump is the villain the media have painted him out to be. I don't believe he is a misogynist, racist, fascist, or any other -ist, not even a narcissist. I wouldn't have voted for him if I thought that. I don't believe we are slouching towards A Handmaid's Tale, or internment camps, or any of the other dystopiae people feel that we are on the verge of. On the contrary: I believe DT's policies will result in more freedom, peace, safety, and prosperity for women, minorities, the poverty-stricken, the citizens of other nations, and immigrants who seek refuge in this country.

2. I believe that leftist policies—while claiming on the surface to benefit the poor, minorities, and disenfranchised—actually harm these groups by promoting policies antagonistic both to the rule of law and sound economic principles. Moreover, their racial and gender rhetoric does more to inflame discord among races and genders than to heal it.***

Tuesday morning I sat at the table in a folding chair, surrounded by the privacy divider, and cast my vote against the dystopia I had been fearing--a mash-up of 1984 and Brave New World—and for a vision of the future that we all have: one of peace, prosperity, freedom, and the survival and renewal of democracy.

(Plus I voted for Lizzy Schmidt and the smaller grocery store.)

We made it home just in time to take the coffee cake out of the oven. It was delicious and even the kids loved it, though it was full of weird flours and carrot pulp. I'd been burdened by anxiety in the weeks leading up to the election, but on Tuesday, I felt peace and lightness. I'd prayed my heart out. I'd voted. The rest was in God's hands.

We had a fun day—got a lavender honey latte at a new coffee shop and took a field trip to the aquarium—and I went to bed early. In the middle of the night I woke up and asked my husband how it was going. “Donald Trump is leading,” he said. “But more importantly—Lizzy Schmidt won.”

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* For my dear friends who voted differently than I: please know that I love and respect you.

**I have not taken the time to argue my position here. Am willing to do so if anyone is interested.

***Again, am willing to go into more detail if anyone is interested.