True confessions of an independent voter

I have fond memories of going to vote with my mom when I was a kid.
I wasn’t a toddler born with an innate political conscience, I just liked the voting contraptions.
The booths, the levers and the sheets seemed like a spaceship.
But it was the secrecy involved that was so thrilling.
“Who’d you vote for?”
It’s one of those questions you don’t dare ask someone, usually along with whether they believe in God or how much money they make.
It comes down to the three things you never talk about at a polite dinner party: sex, religion and politics.
So who did I vote for today?
Not telling.
Voting’s always been a spooky process draped in emotion.
It’s a decision we make that’s a little more poignant than what our brains are usually up to: pondering a Big Mac or Whopper; “The Biggest Loser” or “Jersey Shore.”
For me, it’s even more difficult because I’ve never voted across any party line. Ever since my first election (1996), I’ve went with a mishmash of Republicans and Democrats.
I’m the man in the middle; that elusive voter registered as an Independent.
I want to see economic prosperity and business growth, but don’t think we should sacrifice our humanity for it.
I want to see liberty, civil rights and the pursuit of happiness extended to as many folks possible in our nation, but within logical means.
I want to see government only get involved and use their power to tax when necessary.
When I see at least a glimmer of this in a candidate, I’ll pull their lever, connect their line, punch their chad, or whatever else needs to be done.
I’ve never bothered with the others on the list: Green, Libertarian, U.S. Taxpayers, Natural Law or Pirate Party of the United States, because, honestly, you may as well not vote at all. While third parties sometimes affect the election between the Grand Old White Dudes and the Do-Goody Donkeys, their presence is mostly symbolical.
In my 14 years of independent voting, I’ve found several hints helpful.
Now, the first emotional component of casting a vote is overcoming the dread and apathy.
It’s cliche to say you don’t like either candidate or party.
It’s easier to say, “What’s the point?”
We hear the phrase, “The lesser of two evils.”
The truth is, democracy is a large, messy affair, and elections are the only structured method we have to make sure we’re not going to continue to get royally screwed over and over again.
We may not be able to wine and dine the powers that be; we may not be able to afford setting them up in a Jacuzzi suite with chocolate-covered strawberries and a masseuse; we may not be able to contribute millions, thousands or even nickels to their campaign coffers, but we’ve got a vote.
One measly vote per person, but it’s all we got to sway something as large and unwieldy as government towards our personal, and sometimes highly emotional, wants and beliefs.
After giving myself this kind of pep talk, I’m ready to learn a little bit about the races and elections. During this process, it’s highly advisable to never pay attention to television ads. Both candidates will generally attempt to convince you that their opponent will set fire to your town if elected.
This may have been so in the time of the Visigoths and Huns, but we’ve evolved since then. Just a little, but enough.
Instead, I’ve always relied on newspapers, which cover elections with more expansiveness than television, which is usually quicker and dirtier (and making a fortune off those campaign ads).
Now, with the Internet, you don’t even need to get your information filtered through a newsroom. This is great for you folks who think we in the news-gathering business actually have time to sit around and slant the information we deliver in some sort of biased way.
It also gives the candidates much more “space,” of which the Internet has endless amounts of, to present their views.
I was happy to find a sample ballot for my particular precinct on the Secretary of State’s website. On the page, those candidate’s names who have their own sites are linked to them.
There is enough info on each candidate that you could literally spend hours and hours sifting through it all.
This is the final challenge of the independent voter who wants to take elections on a race by race case.
Time.
I certainly don’t have time to read through the entirety of the material for every candidate running for the Regents of the University of Michigan.
Generally, if I don’t know enough about a race, I’ll skip it. Sorry regents. An uneducated vote isn’t worth casting.
So, once I’ve educated myself fairly well on the candidates, I start weighing my options. I think back to those personal beliefs, and how the issues in the races relate to them.
I do what all voters do. I try to make the best decision in a sloppy, unpredictable system that fundamentally is better than anything else we’ve got.
Then, I drive myself to the polls, usually with a little cheat sheet so I don’t panic and forget what choices I’ve made.
Maybe you’ll see me there today.
I’m the one dressed in my Halloween costume, an astronaut’s spacesuit.
And when I’m casting my votes, I’ll probably still be wishing that pressing the lever will ignite my spaceship and blast me off to another world altogether, one where there aren’t two sides pitted at each other, bent on annihilation.
And I’m just the man in the middle.