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I had scant political awareness as a child. I remember being fascinated watching the roll call votes on the floor of the 1956 Democratic National Convention on my aunt and uncle’s television set. My parents hadn’t purchased a tv at that point, so the novelty of television had as much to do with my interest in the convention as did the convention itself.

While Adlai Stevenson, who had been the Democratic Party candidate for president in 1952, was easily re-nominated on the first ballot, it took three separate ballots to decide on the vice-presidential nominee, Senator Estes Kefauver. This was, according to Wikipedia, “the last multi-balloted contest held at a quadrennial political convention of any major U.S. political party for the presidency or vice presidency.” In both elections, the Republican candidate, Dwight David Eisenhower, was the winner.

That early, fascinating and, it turned out, historic exposure to the world of politics did not, however, translate into an abiding curiosity on my part about the subject until much later in my life, partly due to my limited reading skills growing up. Although testing never revealed a reading deficiency—I always scored high on such metrics—my attention span was so short my reading was mostly confined to comic books, where the information conveyed by the accompanying graphics largely obviated my need of the limited text.

My attention-span-related reading difficulties prevented me from any in-depth exploration of political topics, as well as most books, well into adulthood. In those days, it would take me a month to read a book that friends could sweep through in a day or two. It wasn’t until the mid-90s, when I was engaged in graduate studies at CSC Stanislaus, that a speed-reading course freed me from the shackles of slow reading-ness.

My father, although a registered Democrat, often voted for Republican candidates. A fan of President Eisenhower, he continued his practice of voting Republican when Ronald Reagan entered the political arena. In later years, my father and I would have loud and angry exchanges over his support of Reagan’s presidency, but in  the naivete that comes along with childhood, I favored the same candidates my father did, primarily because he thought well enough of them to give them his vote.

Consequently, the first election in which I participated, once I became old enough, I cast my vote for Ronald Reagan (I can scarcely believe this now) for governor. When I later confided this piece of information to my friend, Phil, I was taken aback by his emphatic response: “You shouldn’t be allowed to vote!”

There are times in a person’s life when something is heard, often from a trusted associate, that for whatever reason bypasses the normal filters we all unconsciously employ with which to evaluate, modify or reject incoming data. When that occurs, the message travels straight through into one’s psyche, where it takes immediate root and, once established, begins to exert its influence from that point forward. Phil’s remonstration over my electoral decision constituted, for me, just such a moment.

As a result, I made a vow to myself that never again would I participate in elections until I felt sufficiently knowledgeable to make an informed decision about who I felt was the best candidate.

A couple of election cycles passed before I felt it was safe for me to resume my participation in our great experiment in self-government. I’ve voted for Democratic Party candidates—or more accurately, against Republican ones—ever since. The inclusive and compassionate nature of Democratic policies in general, as compared to the fear-based and selfish approach most Republican politicians follow, has made voting the Democratic ticket, for me, a no-brainer. I’m not saying I agree with everything the Democratic Party stands for, in fact I changed my registration to Independent a few years ago. But, given the choices—and no, I don’t believe voting third party is a realistic or winning option in the current political environment—voting the Democratic ticket is the lesser of two evils.

I can’t help but wonder, when I think about the inexplicable loyalty of trump’s supporters, how many of them continue to support him based on informed decision-making versus how many do so for reasons more akin to the one that motivated me to vote for Reagan those many years ago? Logic and reason would suggest the latter to be true; should it be the former, however, the reasons for it must lay beyond the reach of logic and most definitely fly in the face of reason.

Tim Konrad

2020.03.28