A RAUCOUS CAUCUS

Participation in the Iowa Caucus is a civic duty that most Iowans take very seriously. There’s a strong sense of responsibility as we lead the way for the nation. People at caucuses work hard to be serious and fair in their deliberations.

When we lived in Iowa City, our precinct had a wild caucus. The school gym filled with hundreds of relentlessly educated people, but when it came time for resolutions, it was a case of­­––if I support yours, you’ll support mine. You could propose a non-discrimination resolution allowing any primate to run for public office, and it would pass unanimously. There is a tacit understanding that any idea, no matter how whacko, deserves a chance for an up and down vote. Iowa Citians believe they are world citizens as well as Iowans. They don’t resolve that the city should be a nuclear free zone; they resolved that galaxy should be a nuclear free zone. No one worries about who might enforce it.

Soon after we moved to the country, we set out for our first rural caucus. We followed the map and were directed to turn onto a road labeled Unimproved Secondary Road. It was more like a Kiss Your Axle Goodbye road. We followed the ruts and arrived right at 8 p.m The caucus was held at a farmhouse, and it was quite dark––we hoped we had the right address. We certainly didn’t have to fight for a parking spot in the farmyard. We sloshed through the mud and knocked on the side door.

The man who answered the door was still in his work clothes and supper dishes were still on the table. He’d just come in from evening chores. We followed him to the kitchen table, and an elderly women joined us. He introduced his mother.

“Here,” he said. “Haven’t had time to look at this.” He pushed a fat manila envelope toward my husband. It was full of ballots, pamphlets, reporting forms, and instructions on how to run the caucus meeting. As my husband read through the instructions, the mother got up and said, “My show’s on” and walked into the other room. Now we were three.

We filled out the paperwork, agreed on our candidates, and that left one form to be completed.

My husband turned and looked at me with a long-suffering, pleading look. “Anyone-have-any-resolutions?”

Gee, I don’t know. How about we hereby resolve to outlaw hog lots? That way, we won’t have to keep airline vomit bags in our remote control caddy in case the wind comes around from the south.  Or we could resolve to reduce pesticide run-off from fields near our wetlands. Maybe we could resolve to outlaw guns––then the lady of the house could use that rack in the pantry for spices. I opened my mouth to speak.

“Okay, then,” said my husband, “no resolutions from York Township.”

We were home by 9, plenty of time to watch other caucus results come in. Democracy had been served.



More on caucuses:
http://www.iowacaucus.org/iacaucus.html