Participating in
politics doesn’t usually seem all that inviting in Wyoming,
with its one congressional representative and part-time citizen
Legislature. That’s especially true for Democrats in this
state that is as red as it is square. Non-Republicans in Wyoming
can be akin to a rare species of toad — a curiosity that is easily
squashed by the heel of a heavy boot when it gets in the way of
progress.
But recently, Wyoming Democrats found
themselves not a political inconvenience but real contributors to
events on the national stage. Our measly 12 delegates meant
something to Hillary Rodham Clinton and Barack Obama in their bid
for the presidency, and that took Wyoming Democrats off the
endangered species list, at least temporarily.
I
participated in my county’s caucus, along with 1,600 other
folks. Of that number, 1,500 were likely first timers. I’d
attended a county caucus here once, in 1996. I covered the event as
a stringer for the newspaper across the mountain in Cheyenne. There
were about 50 people at that caucus, and my 1,000-word story was
cut to a news brief — approximately one word allocated for each
Democrat there.
The mood could not be more different this
time around. Wyoming’s governor, Dave Fruedenthal, announced
in January that he didn’t plan to endorse any Democrat, since
none was talking seriously about Western issues. Then in early
March, tight races in other states tossed both candidates right
into the surprised laps of Cowboy State Democrats.
For
the first time, national candidates contacted us. Leading up to the
event on March 10, the postal carrier’s burden grew heavier
each day and his mailbag sagged lower to the ground. Obama mailers,
two to our household, came daily. My phone rang more in a week than
it usually does in a month. Obama volunteers, Clinton volunteers,
Democratic Party volunteers, all deeply desired to know my
leanings, my plans, my concerns, my vote. In the middle of the week
before the caucus, the candidates appeared in the flesh and made
speeches at rallies, careful to avoid awkward encounters in the
towns they visited on the same day.
Everywhere I’d
been in the days leading to the caucus — the store, my job, the
bar — I heard Democrats and Republicans talking together about
politics, chatting about “Bill” and
“Hillary” and “Barack” as though they were
neighbors or folks from work. Just about every conversation ended
with, “Well, it can’t possibly get any worse, no matter
what happens.”
When caucus day finally came, I
waited to register in a long jolly line at the local civic center.
There were so many people, I became part of a group that
couldn’t get into the main room, though we still could cast a
ballot. I spotted a few folks being turned away, disappointed
they’d forgotten they weren’t registered Democrats.
Later in the day, another person, sensing the unique
nature of the moment, and perhaps that her candidate would not
prevail, used her cell phone to photograph her completed ballot
before dropping it in the ballot box. Another voter sat quietly in
her wheelchair, politely letting the crowd crush ahead, until
others noticed her presence and cleared her way to the ballot box.
As I prepared my ballot, I saw for a moment the face of
the candidate I selected and the face of the one I did not select.
For the first time I saw both not as images on TV or on campaign
flyers, but as people who’d been working their tails off for
moments like this. I felt good about the candidate I voted for, but
for the first time I realized I was saying “no” to the
other candidate, who had worked just as hard, had just as much
passion, and if possible, would have looked me in the eyes and
argued that America, the West, and Wyoming, could be even better if
I’d voted differently.
In other states I might have
touched a screen or filled in an arrow on a primary ballot and gone
on my way. But talking to my neighbors about who’d best
represent us, and engaging in that loud messy caucus, showed me the
responsibility that we all share for the nation’s future. For
that, Sens. Clinton and Obama, I thank you.
Suddenly, my
mailbox seems mighty empty, whistling in the wind of a Wyoming
spring. Please don’t forget to write.
Julianne Couch is a contributor to Writers on the Range, a
service of High Country News (hcn.org). She
lives and writes in Laramie, Wyoming. The state’s Democratic
delegates were apportioned seven for Obama, five for
Clinton.
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