Election Eve, Small Town, USA

As the candidate approached the microphone, the air around the town square was filled with the usual noises: babies crying, little kids laughing and playing, the buzz of conversation from small groups of adults as they met, exchanged greetings and moved on. He stood in the fading light, the old courthouse behind him a perfect backdrop to the bunting draped stage, and gathered his notes. He looked at the crowd for a few moments, then stuffed the notecards back into the inner pocket of his coat. “Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon. Thank you all for coming to our election rally today. As you know, I’m running for the office of County Mayor. Our incumbent has spoken eloquently, as always, and now it’s my turn.” He paused, and let the few seconds of silence bring quiet to the square. “I just decided to change what I have to say. Tomorrow you should each vote for your first choice to lead the county for the next four years, and I suspect that nothing I say tonight will change tomorrow’s outcome. So let me tell you what standing up here, in front of you, really means. If this town square were somehow transported to say, China, here’s what would happen within the next few minutes.” He paused again, then gestured at two of the streets leading away from the square. “Tanks would roll up those streets, and the alley there,” he gestured again, “the alley there would be full of soldiers. You, I, all of us would disappear. Most of us would die in a Chinese prison. But not here.” He had everyone’s attention now. Even the other candidates who were gathered in the shadows behind the grandstand had begun trickling out to see and hear. “What if we were in any of several countries in South America? We could all expect to hear automatic weapons any minute, and not from way across town. Everyone here would be on the ground, covering children with our own bodies, and praying that the next bullet would miss. That’s how they change their leaders. But not here.” Mothers were gathering their children close to themselves, and men were muttering, some of them looking over their shoulders. “Let’s shift the scene to any of the third world countries in Africa. We wouldn’t be worried about tanks, or machine guns in most of them. They still use machetes to replace their leaders over there. But not here.” Some of the children were crying, and he was momentarily afraid he’d gone too far. But no one was walking away. Everyone was standing still, listening. “We’ll only take one more trip, and then we’ll stay right here at home, just like Ebenezer Scrooge finally did. In Russia there wouldn’t be tanks, like there would have been 40 years ago. And they’ve never used machetes, at least not in my lifetime. I would disappear into a gulag, along with most of the other candidates, and you’d never hear of us again. But not here. I could go on and on, but I think I’ve made my point. Think about Iran, Iraq, the Congo, Sudan, Syria, Afghanistan, a dozen others, just from recent memory. Then count how many other countries you can think of that would let us stand up here in public, not worrying about being run over, shot, beheaded or just locked up for the crime of telling you all what we think about how we should be governed. I’ll bet you can count them all on your fingers. There aren’t that many. Just think about that, and then go home and give thanks for where we live and how we change our leaders. It’s a precious freedom. Free from fear, free from danger, free from bloodshed. That’s what a free country is all about. And think about one more thing. Luck. We are all lucky that our forebears founded our country to be free, and that our men and women in uniform have kept it free. Thank you all for coming. Thank you all for listening. Good night.” With that, he left the stage and disappeared into the shadows as the crowd began chanting “USA, USA.”