Tomorrow

Tomorrow is Election Day, my first as a citizen. We’re going to our polling place, McMain High School, around seven AM. I’m nervous. There are many ways to vote in this country, and they all seem to involve equipment that breaks down. What if there are levers to pull, chads to hang, etc? What if I get confused at the last minute between Ralph Capitelli and Leon Cannizzaro, both of whom are running for DA? Should I vote Yes or No on the second of seventh amendments to the Louisiana constitution: may the state government require two additional days of notice before calling a special legislative session? (Not sure why our state representatives need a further two days’ notice, exactly, given that they already get five days notice, unless maybe they are on a cycling vacationing in El Paso and need time to pedal back.)

A side note: apparently Louisiana is #1 in the nation at coming up with constitutional amendments. Since its most recent iteration, in 1974, we’ve voted in 151 amendments.

Yesterday I got a call from the Obama/Biden local HQ. (We also got a call from Obama himself, but that was pre-recorded.) Can I volunteer some time on Tuesday? Yes I Can. So I’m on the four through seven PM shift, canvassing. T. Middy is worried this means knocking on doors in bad neighborhoods in the dark, being accused of European socialism and illegal alien status, etc, so he might try to finish work early and come with me. I’ll wear my Geauxbama T-shirt.

Meanwhile in New Orleans, life goes on as abnormal. Halloween on Friday brought its usual chaos and silliness. We crossed St Charles Avenue around nine-ish, on the way to the third of our three activities, and thought we’d stumbled on a convention of drunk prostitutes. But no! It was just dozens of students, dressed in skimpy, skin-tight “costumes”, waiting to catch the street car downtown.

Every night after school, the McMain band and majorettes are out in the field, rehearsing for parade season. These rehearsals involve a great deal of drumming, and sporadic marching around in ragged formation. The drumming is so loud it drowns out the TV, but they’re all sounding good, and the brass players seem less like distressed baby elephants this year, and more like actual musicians.

And last night, just as The Amazing Race was ending, our power disappeared: we sat around by candlelight for the next two hours. Ten thousand households lost power, according to today’s paper. The problem? A suicidal raccoon.

Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.

Comments

[Graham Beattie]

How exciting. I am still wearing my Obama baseball cap!