Choosing Day

That’s Walt Whitman’s term, by the way, not mine. Election Day fun, Kate coming home to vote for the first time and all, started the night before, about 8:15 pm. “Ah, dad, I’m up around Temple,” she calls on her cell. “We want to get to South Street and cheese steaks. I’m not where I should be, right?”

Roger that. Somehow, someway she’s one block off Broad Street in a bombed-out neighborhood. I hear J, her boyfriend, over the cell, “K, you have no idea where you are.”

“Whatever it takes, K, get back on Broad,” I say. Silence. “Are you on heading for City Hall? Do you see City Hall?” Silence. “I think so.” Then J says, “Mr. Johnson, we’re OK. We just got turned around.”

Election Day morning, nearing noon, I open the door to my home office, aka sleepover central, and it’s clear Kate is not ready to pull any levers. She’s propped up on pillows on the floor, playing a Super Mario video game. Still in her jammies. “Well, I’m going to vote now, Kate. I’ve seen some long lines at the polls. You can go with mom later.”

As an exercise in political awareness or whatever, Steve has the day off from school. Had to step over him to get the morning coffee. He likes to sleep on the floor when he can sleep in, with the dogs in front of the TV, which often will still be on from the night before. So what do you do when you’re trapped in a 1950s ranch house, with three kids sleeping on floor? You get out of Dodge. After checking to see that Kate wasn’t awake enough to decide who the next most powerful man in the world should be, I escape for a few hours. Came home to find Steve on his cell, trying to make something of his day off. “I don’t know man, I’m kind of broke, too. Yeah. Well, peace.” Then he returns to ESPN’s Sports Center.

Kate casts her ballot and she and J head back to the U of Del running late, and thus smack into rush hour traffic. They pull out of the driveway and Steve wheels right in, Wawa sandwich crammed in his mouth. Does he have plans for tonight? One sure bet: he won’t be hanging on the election returns.

That’s a pastime for pre-Internet adults. Katie Couric interviews PA Governor Rendall about 8:30 pm. “McCain will be buried in this state,” the guv grins ear to ear. The pundits pontificate on the national significance of the Philadelphia “exburbs” voting in record numbers and swinging PA’s Electoral College votes to the Big O, which might push him over the top. They get down to the specifics of small towns 15, 20, 30 miles surrounding downtown. Who’d of thunk it, Audubon at Ground Zero of the presidential election.

In another room, Steve’s watching the Suns and Nets on ESPN, or The Family Guy, or The Office, He handles the remote like a wizard, whizzing through hundreds of channels. Some textbooks and notebooks open on the sofa. “What’d ya, think about the election, Steve?” I ask. “Looks like it’s going to be a landslide,” he replies, not taking his eyes off the screen. How the hell does he know what’s going on? Ah, but the kids always know more than they let on.