Wednesday, November 7, 2007

your davenport is by my fridgedaire ...

i voted

"i was at my polling place for 10 seconds before i heard the word 'davenport'," chuck says to me on the phone.

'davenport' is one of the words we like to predict will, after about 27 more deaths, become extinct. in fact, i haven't heard the word 'davenport' used without irony and in context in the seven years since my grandma smittley has died. she was big on the davenport.

she liked to curl up on the davenport on new year's eve with a highball, but beforehand she would let me fish vodka-soaked olives from the bottem of her glass. fridgedaire is another. grandma pista is trying to fit that one into a scrabble board in florida as we speak. fridgedaire is not a word. it was a brand. a gigantic white cold structure in your basement, where you store pies and extra meat. 'fridgedaire' goes to the grave with grandma pista.


election day, as you know, is my fifth favorite holiday. i am absolutely enamored with the voting process. here's mine: i take one big ticket item and i decide who i want. for the rest of the ballot i vote for who i think will win. in this way, election day is a lot like going to the horse races. i clutch my personal choices, eyes on the tv as we round the home stret.

i vote at a tiny community center less than a block from my house. it smells like my elementary school. the voting officials are a geriatric bunch of very cute rule abiders. there are three people voting at 3 p.m., but first i have to very officially check in and prove that while i may not ever sleep at my apartment i do recieve my new yorker there and so this is where i vote, womanhandle a reciept that says i am who i am and hand it to a man who saw me do the whole process and is sitting 15 inches away. he coughs. takes a pill. looks at the sheet, examines it, acts like he didn't see the whole transaction. frowns accordingly. sucks on his oxygen tank. says "davenport." approves me, i vote.

i feel like there used to be free coffee for voters. what happened to that?

one year i got really hopped up on the elections. i even voted for school board, knowing that i didn't even have the inkling of a seed considering sproutation in my womb. and if i ever did bear a fetal nicotene syndrome infant, these people would be long gone.

i did this all in a very tarot way. i voted for people who generated good vibes during the debates -- which i attended for probably the same reason i consider knitting these days: new hobby? okay. what else is there to do?

this year i only voted for mayor. i didn't even read beyond that oval circle. apparently there was a typo on the ballot. good riddance.

ness. of course. for a ton of reasons. but these are my favorite:

about a year and a half ago, i was going to turn into the ghetto spur and donnie ness was in the other lane going the other direction. both of our windows were open and we were waiting. we looked at each other, aquaintances and all.

"i'be been enjoying your blog lately," he said, through his window.
"really?" i squealed like it was actually donnie wahlberg sweating on my pubescent chest.
he nodded.
"my blog will endorse you!" i said.

two years ago at homegrown donnie was eating what i thought was a taco. it was well after last call at pizza luce.

"can i have a bite?" i asked him.
he handed it to me.
it was pizza.
that was weird. biting into something i thought was a taco and having it be a piece of pizza.
but the gesture was vote-worthy in itself.
i had a superficial reason to vote for charlie bell, too. i used it the last time he was up for mayor and i actually did vote for him that time. this was insignificant in the face of my blog and that bite of pizza.


say my parents come to town. we're eating brunch at luce. say the mayor walks in, sees me and stops at our table and says "hi" before getting a very posh window seat reserved for elected officials who are all doogie houserish.

"well ... he's cute. who was that?" my mom asks, slicing into pesto eggs benedict.
"the mayor," i say. "that was the mayor."

more than 30 percent of me voted for that.
so put that in your fridgedaire and smoke it.


CDP said...

I LOVE election day, too. There were no races where I live so I didn't get to vote...and highball, too, is an anachronistic word. I haven't heard it since my grandfather died in 1994. He had a bar in his basement where the highballs flowed every evening. The greatest thrill of my life was the first time I visited after I'd turned 21 and he OFFERED me one...nothing like getting a buzz on with your granddad.

Whiskeymarie said...

Technically, I CAN put that in my Frigedaire and smoke it, as I have a Frigedaire stove from oh...1950 sitting in my kitchen.

But I never call my couch a Davenport- unless I'm unleashing Esther, my inner old lady.

Glad Ness won. My Mr. went to high school with him, and he seems like a nice boy.

Esther approves.

L Sass said...

I would happily vote for anyone who shared his late-night pizza with me!! That is the secret to campaign success, in my mind.

Flenker said...

I'll have you know that I was born in Davenport, IA, on a davenport.

Ok, not really on a davenport. Unless the hospital room was in a retirement home lobby, the only venue where the word "davenport" is still being used. I'll have to check on that.

The mayor here in Austin, TX, is Will Wynn. I can imagine all the conversations leading up to his election in 2003 - "Will Will Wynn win?"

The only election I really heard about down here was one that is going to give $3 billion (yes, billion) to cancer research. That Lance Armstrong is charismatic, getting money and all.

Domestically Disabled Girl said...

nice shot! ; )

my grandma still says davenport. i supress a giggle every time. i think you are right though, about 27 more deaths and the word is gone.

Beverly said...

My husband said Don Ness showed up at basketball once, and that might be why he voted for him.
Also, besides coffee, do you remember when there was a bake sale on voting day? I think it raised money for the League of Women Voters. But someone decided that it was bad to raise money at the voting place. That's a sad day for me, because the homemade brownies and stuff were half the reason to show up and vote.

Aimee said...

Apparently I didn't get on the mailing list for that whole election thing. LOL I had no idea it was election day (um, two days ago). I thought it was bad when you weren't up on the subject enough to make an educated decision on who/what to vote for...but when you can't even keep up with the fact that it is election day...Yeah, I think I need a nap. :)

nanners said...

this is funny to me because i know you were shin-deep in honey weiss when you wrote it.

Thirty said...

I actually have a Fridgedaire. And my husband's uncle is a Fridgedaire salesman. Very exciting, huh?

I will never forget when my grandma asked my three-year-old cousin to sit on the davenport and he looked at her and said, "What the HELL is a davenport, grandma?" Exactly.