The Election Jinx

It's me. I'm the Jinx.

This a firmly tongue in cheek piece. None of this is serious, because I am sick and tired of this election cycle and I need to laugh instead of cry. So, if you have a mind to finger wag at me, you can take that nonsense somewhere else. This one’s purely for fun because Lord knows we all need some of that.

Me and voting have a checkered past. Here’s how it’s gone:

Prior to my mom and dad’s conversion to Christianity, I really can’t be sure which direction they voted. However, I can probably make an educated guess. My mother recalls getting all wound up about the environment in her young and wild days (late 1960s), and I suspect she voted Democrat, though she got married at twenty and was converted shortly after that. So, she may not have had a chance to vote at all prior to conversion. (Maybe Mom can spill the tea in the comments section.) My dad was a conscientious objector during the Vietnam War and spent the war years doing alternative service. So, I’m pretty sure he veered Democrat too. Once converted, however, my dad helped campaign for Ronald Reagan. Both Mom and Dad spoke of Reagan in glowing terms from there forward.

My parents were faithful Republican voters from then until my mid to late teens.

Somewhere in my early teens, my dad became enamored of the Amish. We had a lot of Amish communities around us in southern Michigan. We were in that tri-state area of Michigan, Indiana, and Ohio where all the borders intersected, and seeing the Amish more or less everywhere we went was the norm—at Walmart, at the health food store, driving buggies down the road (woe betide those late for church on Sunday…). In my early teens, we stopped off along a country road on our way to somewhere or other when we saw a white sign that had “Eggs” hand written on it. We needed eggs and we had long discovered the superiority of fresh, locally grown eggs compared to supermarket eggs, and this sign looked promising. We met the Petersheims, an Amish family who had recently moved south from northern Michigan with a small group of families to begin their own community. They were the sweetest people, always so friendly and hospitable. If we stopped by at the Petersheims for eggs, we rarely headed back home less than an hour later. They’d often invite us in and we’d talk.

Mr. Petersheim would sometimes sing us hymns in German out of the Ausbund. After a particularly dreary little number one day, he sat back in his chair, sighed in satisfaction and remarked, “That one really swings!”

Mrs. Petersheim would shout conversation over the rattling and roaring of her kerosene powered ringer washer which was not properly vented. Actually, I cannot recall what fuel powered this contraption, but I remember the fumes quite well. I think I turned a little green a time or two. Sometimes she’d show us one of her exquisite quilts someone was paying her to complete. Watching her nimble fingers rock that needle back and forth was a treat. One time, she invited us over to another Amish families’ home so we could observe their soap-making process.

Those were sweet times.

But all that time with them peaked my dad’s curiosity, and who could blame him? There’s much to admire about the Amish. He began a deep dive into Anabaptist history and teaching. At that time in my life, my mom and I were already wearing headcoverings, due to Dad’s study of I Corinthians 11 and I wore nothing but dresses, skirts and blouses, or jumpers. But it wasn’t because we were Amish or Mennonite contrary to what most casual observers thought. We were basically Baptists. Weird Baptists, but Baptists.

To make a long story short, my dad came to the conclusion that the Anabaptist interpretation of the Sermon on the Mount was correct. The main thrust being that we should “resist not evil.” This meant no military service, no participation in law enforcement, no political involvement at all. So, my parents stopped voting and bowed out of any major civic engagements like participating in juries, etc..

By the time I was old enough to vote, my dad had taught the family that we really shouldn’t vote. So I didn’t. I went through two presidential election cycles as an adult woman without voting.

We did, however, take a keen interest in politics and we certainly knew who we favored and who we did not. When President George W. won his first election, there was great rejoicing in the Barber household. We even tuned in all morning in January to watch the inauguration on NBC news. Mom and I made a bunch of TexMex party food to eat because we learned it was George W’s favorite. Now, I cringe at our happy naivety. Live and learn, eh?

Heading into the third presidential election cycle, I was beginning to feel that this whole situation was a lose/lose scenario and I respectfully communicated my misgivings to my dad. He took that really well, all things considered, and counseled me to study the issue for myself, ask the Lord for wisdom, and make my own decision.

I decided to begin voting. My first presidential election (if memory serves me correctly) was 2008. With a disappointed sigh, I voted for John McCain. He lost. In 2012, with another disappointed sigh, I voted for Mitt Romney. He lost. In 2016 with sad resignation, I wrote in the name of a third party candidate. He obviously lost. In 2020, I determined Trump didn’t turn out half bad as a president, so with a cynical shrug, I voted for him. He lost.

Are you seeing a pattern here? In every presidential election, the candidate I’ve voted for has lost. The only candidates I have voted for and who have won their elections have been state and/or local county candidates, including my husband, the right Honorable Representative Jonathon Hill…the only guy I’ve ever voted for without any disappointed resignation at all. But for presidential elections, I am an election jinx. I am nearly convinced that the candidate I vote for this presidential election will also lose.

What to do? What to do?

Dad, if you can hear me up there in the sweet by and by, it seems I’ve only made things worse by joining the electorate.

Or better, dear reader, depending on your politics.

So, help a girl decide who to jinx next week and vote from the options below:

That’s all for now. Until next time, folks…

P.S. If you enjoy reading (or listening) to my inane and sometimes coherent ramblings, please consider upgrading your subscription from free to paid. This will give me more time and resources to write more as well as work to get my two novels published. Have a great week! And whatever does happen next week, remember that we mustn’t lose our heads. As my departed father-in-law was known to say, “Nothing is as bad as it seems, and nothing is as good as it seems.”