The first time I ever considered the concept of voting, it was November 1976. HELP INC. was our polling place, and the lines were stretched out the door and down the block to the FINA gas station, at least a quarter-mile back. Cars were double parked on both sides of the road, and Momma parked two blocks away, leaving us to hastily march back to HELP INC., to stand in the ever expanding line. I was 10 in November 1976, Jimmy Carter was running for president, against Gerald Ford, and the cost of unleaded gasoline, was $.54, according to the sign that hung over my head. In the days leading up to the election, I overheard grown folks in the black community talking about Jimmy Carter, the Peanut-Man. While in the white community, where my siblings and I attended a predominately white, private Christian school, Gerald Ford and Watergate was the topic of conversation. In my naïveté, I thought Watergate had something to do with the black iron gates, surrounding the park across the street from the school, and the two ponds within the park. I thought the luxury home on Park Avenue with the rod-iron balcony, facing Lafayette Park, was the Watergate headquarters, and someone was there planning government deceptions.

That election night, Momma arrived home from work about 5:30 PM, she rushed us into the car, turn three blocks, parked at the edge of the alley, and hastily marched us into the voting line. Polls closed at 7 PM, and Momma wanted her vote to count. With my new digital wristwatch, gifted to me in September for my birthday, I kept track of time. When Momma stepped into the voting booth my wristwatch read 6:27 PM. Leaving the polling place, we stopped at White Castle‘s, picked up dinner, and returned home. Flicking on the television, breaking news was on, and they said the Peanut-Farmer had won Missouri. Looking at my wristwatch, the time read 7:23 PM. My mind pondered, how could they know? Momma had just voted, and all those folks were still in line when we left. How could they have closed the polling place, rushed all the ballots to Jefferson City, and have them all counted in under an hour?

From that moment on, my voting concept was tainted, one, I was rooting for Gerald Ford, he was much better looking than Jimmy Carter, I thought. Two, in my mind, there was no way Momma’s vote or any of those other folks gathered at HELP INC. was counted in the election, in that short amount of time. Therefore, I lost all interest in the voting process until 1984. In 1984, Jesse Jackson ran for president, and I would be 18, just in time for the election. Unfortunately, Jesse Jackson lost in the primaries and I had no interest in voting again until 1996. In 1996, I voted for the incumbent Bill Clinton and did not vote in another presidential election until Barack Obama, 2008/2012. In 2016 I voted the Green party and found myself ridiculed and scrutinized harshly via Facebook. The Scrutinizer was of the opinion, my failure to vote for Hillary Clinton ( Bill’s Wife) was an automatic vote for Trump; however, for me, this was farthest from the truth.

I have not always participated in presidential elections on average. It seems the only place my vote counts or makes a little bit of difference is in local elections. Today I voted in the city of St. Louis primary election, and I cannot wait for the 2020 presidential primary in November, I will vote GOODBYE TRUMP!