Wednesday, April 08, 2020

Journal of a Plague Year, Tuesday, April 7

I write this after seeing photographs of people voting in Wisconsin. All one can say is: we may be provincial, but we’re not dumb.

Wisconsin has 2,578 active cases of Coronavirus. 1,323 are in Milwaukee County and 289 in Dane County, with the state capital of Madison. Spatially, the state still is rural. The only other places with more than 100 cases are industrial centers in Kenosha and Waukesha counties.

But think, 100 cases. The New Mexico total is 794, and growing by 80 to a 100 a day. The worse hit county, Bernalillo with Albuquerque, has 246 positive tests. Rio Arriba is still at six.

Our primaries are held in June, which means we never have a say in the selection of the president. But, because this essentially is still a one party county, the primary is the time one’s vote for county offices matter.

I keep telling my neighbor that if he cares who’s sheriff, he needs to register as a Democrat. It doesn’t define his choices in November. This, however, offends his sense of himself as an independent, and so all he can do is complain.

One year someone had the bright idea of having an earlier caucus. It was the year Obama was upsetting the coronation of Hilary Clinton, and I think it was the idea of Clinton supporters.

Since it wasn’t a primary, and the party had to pay all the costs, there was only one place to vote: the gymnasium of the old middle school.

As I recall, there were four lines defined by letter of the alphabet that moved very slowly. As we were approaching the entrance to the gym someone came out and reclassified the lines. One was reassigned specifically to anyone with Martínez as a last name. People laughed, but no one changed lanes.

Politics aside, and politics are deeply embedded in Wisconsin election, its fiasco is the result of different parts of the government acting independently of each other. On March 17, the governor issued an order banning all gatherings over 10 people. This alone should have precluded holding an election. But, Republicans, who are more numerous in rural areas, refused to postpone the vote.

The last time we had such a problem was the year the county redefined everyone’s address to make it easier for emergency crews to locate people. Simultaneously, the governor decided to clear up the lists of eligible voters by sending postcards to everyone who was registered. The state then used the returned cards to flag people whose status was questionable.

Of course, no one in my precinct had changed his or her address with the county registrar. No one had physically moved. It was enough of a headache to deal with companies that sent bills from computer systems that couldn’t handle our County Road 9 Building 9 format.

When I arrived at my precinct to vote no one was eligible.

The state had a provision that one could vote, if one filled out the official change of address form. I was at the poll before 9 am, and it already was running out of forms.

I don’t know any of the election workers, although many are known to other voters. I remember, years ago, I recognized one woman who worked in our precinct from seeing her in Cooks. She was there for years.

Then, there was a complete change in the personnel. Since, I vaguely recognize the man running the machine that registers the vote as one who has done that before. He might even have been the one who managed the machines when those were used.

A couple years ago officials further tightened the voting procedures. We had to recite our physical address. Since I have a post office box, I rarely use mine. It’s much easier to give people directions that a meaningless address.

As a result, I sometimes confuse the road and building numbers. Fortunately, the poll worker was forgiving. He said that that year the county reidentified us, his address changed three times.

Sources:
Wikipedia. "2020 Coronavirus Pandemic in New Mexico." Updated daily.

Wikipedia. "2020 Coronavirus Pandemic in Wisconsin." Checked 7 April 2020.

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