By ma.
The West Bath Town Hall is a small, white building that sits back a little from Foster’s Point Road. The Hall is the town’s only central point. Driving along the road, one passes large farmhouses, water-side cottages and trailers. West Bath’s population is an eclectic mix of retirees, “summa” people, lobsterman, craftsman, teachers, and local businesspeople. When I found I could switch my registration as unaffiliated to democrat the day of the primaries, I was overjoyed. Even better, I got to vote in the town hall. Although I was slightly concerned how we would fit inside, I was still excited to vote.
Ninety-three registered democrats showed up the day of the caucus. Three of us were under 30. Most of the people were of our parents generation or older, and everyone knew each other. Imagine the Women’s Resource Center living room with 93 people in it—some people sat in the 20 or so arranged seats, but most of stood, squeezed in by the walls, in the doorways, or in the stairwell. At three o’clock precisely the caucus began.
The head of the West Bath Democrats convened the caucus, and we began by electing delegates for the West Bath Democratic Committee. People lightheartedly yelled out names of their friends and then laughed during the election process. “I think Joe should be secretary.” “Then maybe you should be president.” After that was over, we elected a commissioner and secretary for the caucus itself, which occurred in much the same informal manner.
Then we voted.
It was immediately clear that we were not going be able to divide the room for Obama and Clinton supporters. Someone suggested we break up: one group upstairs, one downstairs. Obama supporters went up, where we elected a team captain who counted the votes. There was less room for people to stand upstairs than downstairs, so we decided to count votes by walking through the front door of the town hall into the blizzard. We all laughed as we moved into the snow and our vote was counted. The first count was 62. We shuffled back inside, and the undecideds came up. One woman asked, “Why should I vote for Barack Obama?” A man asked, “Why shouldn’t I worry about his inexperience?” Whoever felt like answering responded. Everyone was eloquent and passionate. The Obama team captain said, “Obama cares about the working people. He cares about us.”
US. This word “us” was one of the most powerful things I have ever heard anyone say. I’ve watched countless debates, read a multitude of articles, but nothing was more compelling than hearing a local laborer, my neighbor, say that a politician is there for “us.”
Some of the undecided voters went downstairs to hear what Clinton’s backers had to say. We counted the Obama supporters again, walking through the doorway into the snow. 67.
The final count was 69 Obama, 23 Clinton, and 1 undecided. After electing delegates and alternates (Obama 4, Clinton 2), people quickly dispersed, eager to get safely home.
I grew up in D.C., in a political family, but until February 10, 2008, I had never truly experienced democracy.
