A Raucous Caucus

For my first major act of U.S. citizen-ness, on Super Tuesday I caucused. And had a ball. At this caucus.

Ahem.

And let me say, in a moment of Donald Trump-like arrogance and complete lack of emotional intelligence, I am damn proud of myself for single handedly making America great again.

Okay, maybe my mere presence didn't have quite that effect. But ever since I dipped into the required reading for potential naturalized citizens last spring, I've been fascinated by the process involved in running a successful democracy. Republic. Whatever.

The parking lot was totally full, forcing all those excitable registered democrats to wedge their Priuses and 1998 Subaru Outbacks with Thule roof racks into the spots between parking space margins and just inside the peripheral wire fencing. The lines stretched down the street and around the block. Old, young (many people brought their kids), millenials, a CNN crew, baby blue Bernie shirts, Hilary shirts (not as many), dreadlocks, Birkenstocks, baseball caps, wheelchairs, head scarves, all shades of skin tones...what you'd expect from a group of excitable democrats, and unquestionably a fire code violation. No one noticed.

Once things gets organized (so to speak), everyone gets a thin blue strip of paper and is asked to raise it up in favor of each of either "Republican Public Enemy Number One (with The Donald, it seems, lately, coming in a close second)" or "Feel the Bern." I was still undecided. So I asked supporters from the two candidates to woo me to their side. Each gave an impassioned speech directly to my face, which made me feel like I was speed-dating.

I was deeply affected by the idea that so many people—regular folks, all with the same goals of living a peaceful, fulfilled life—came to express themselves. It was true grass roots, people toting their opinions and passion and feeling part of something. If you were there, you felt like your voice needed to be heard. And it was.

No one was afraid of being oppressed for speaking their mind, or of having their feelings invalidated by a thug on a dais, or of being sent away to a work camp or prison because of their beliefs or opinions. The excitement, the angst, the tension, and the joy that filled every crack and cranny; all were quite palpable. This group was empowered. And empowerment brings with it the capability of greatness.

Caucus Crowd at Rocky Mountain High School

We complain endlessly about our politicians and our system and how the country is going to shit. But I kept imagining a person from North Korea or Saudi Arabia, or a child-soldier from war-torn Sierra Leone, or a Syrian refugee with nothing but the clothes they were wearing, walking into such a place and being told: "Go ahead, say what you want. Use your voice. Be who you are." I pictured them crying with joy at this privilege, and the sense of self-determinism that would result.

Kind of makes a congressional filibuster look like what it really is—a preschool temper tantrum.

The raucous caucus, for all its quaintness and desperate need to be updated with the times (hello, primaries with their easy-peasy mail-in ballots), is clear evidence that people simply want to be heard. We want to emote and be driven to something greater.

It's that kind of empowerment—not border walls or repeated, empty rhetoric and sophomoric attacks on anyone who dares criticize us—that makes America great.

The overwhelming majority