Confession No. 1: I've been a registered Republican for the last four years.
Disclaimer No. 1: It was completely without my knowledge. Hillary suspects a vast right-wing conspiracy.
A little while ago, My Love and I each received postcards in the mail from the Stamford Registrar of Voters office asking us to confirm our existence. This isn't Chicago, after all. So I looked them over. Names and addresses were right. Then I noticed ... it.
My Love's card had a "D" at the top, noting she was a member of "D'at Party." Mine had an "R."
As is, "Really!?!"
When we moved back here, I registered to vote at the same time I applied for my Connecticut state driver's license. I'm positive I put down "unaffiliated," "independent" or whatever the proper choice was to indicate I had a mind I could make up on my own, thank you very much.
Could the DMV have screwed up my God-given right, as an American, to vote for whomever I wanted to screw up my God-given rights as an American? Naaah …
So, I crossed out the "R" on my postcard, scrawled "unaffiliated/independent," signed it and dropped in the mail. A week later, the registrar of voters sent me an application to register to vote. To the Batphone!
The woman I spoke with at the registrar's office explained that, when I registered four years ago, I must have checked the box that said that I chose not to pick a party at that time. However, since I had previously been a registered voter in Stamford, the "system" re-activated my old file and it defaulted to the party I had last been registered with.
Confession, No. 2: I was a registered Republican for the first 12 years of my voting life.
Disclaimer, No. 2: I was only 18 when I first registered. It was the height of the Reagan Revolution. It had been drilled into my head for years that it was important to pick a party so I could vote in a primary. I blame my parents, the media and society. Shame on all of you!
Actually, I had a plan. I joined the party in power because if it turned out they were greedy, uncaring, phony-baloney, hypocritical purveyors of not-niceness than I would work from within the party structure to start a reform movement that would raise their spiritual, moral and political conscienceness to a higher plane that would benefit society as a whole.
I also believed in Santa Claus until I was about 9. Then my sister showed me the stash of unwrapped presents under the living room couch.
So, I asked the woman on the phone if she could help me out.
"That's no trouble," she said. "I'll do it right now."
That was awfully nice of her. Of course, I may not have been who I said I was on the phone. I could have been anyone. I could have been an Al-Qaeda operative. I could have been Dooley Womack. I could have … hmmm …
Coming soon: Confession, No. 3.
My Uncool Past
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