My participation in elections began when I was in the first grade, and it did not work out well for any of the main players.
My grandmother, who was my caregiver/babysitter since my Mama always worked at a job outside the home, was unable to walk because of rheumatoid arthritis. She was what was termed a “shut-in,” and getting her out of the apartment where she lived was a big event.
I was always excited to be a part of it – wanting to be included, holding doors open, running ahead of everyone, getting in “the way,” as in “Terri, get out of the way,” and just generally being a nuisance.
After I learned how to read, no correspondence I got my eyes on remained private. I not only read everything, I also remembered and was willing to report on what I had read when asked.
In the spring of 1958 in Macon County, there was a now-forgotten hotly contested primary for a local office. My great-grandfather, Jerry Franklin, was a strong supporter of one of the candidates and had probably been very vocal about his support, which included urging his daughter, my grandmother, to vote for his choice.
Now, the stage is set.
Election Day came, and in the production of getting her to the curb-side voting, my grandmother was carried down the long flight of stairs by two men, loaded into the front seat of a car, and driven to the polls. I, of course, insisted on going along and hopped in the back seat.
I remember the man bringing out the ballot. I remember my grandmother holding it up so she could see it. I remember reading the names and watching her mark her choices.
I also remember not being informed of the term “secret ballot.”
People should have reminded my grandmother the backseat spy could not only read but also had a big blabber mouth. She knew me better than almost anyone, so she should’ve taken precautions – like maybe using a cover sheet. It was not entirely my fault that I was glad to tell when I was teasingly asked who my grandmother voted for.
Ay, law. My family has always been serious about politics, and when my great-grandaddy got wind of my election report, it did not set well with him since she had, indeed, voted for his candidate’s opponent. He fussed at her; and, in turn, everyone fussed at me.
Several valuable lessons were learned that election day.