VotingWilliam Murphy Weymouth
My mother and father enthusiastically voted in every election, understanding that POLITICS can be defined as “who gets what, when, where and how”, distinguished from war/crime or terrorism as “the peaceful resolution of conflict”, the antithesis of using violence to effect political means.
Mom and Dad were WWII veterans who became Federal employees – my father a mailman and my mother, a defense department clerk and, thus, prohibited by the Federal Hatch Act from participating in partisan political activity. But they could vote. My father had strong feelings for national candidates and actively supported state and local candidates. HOWEVER, he was by nature totally against bumper stickers, lawn signs, flags (including the US flag). He believed in believing and in ACTION but not the trappings of belonging, the showcasing.
Both my parents would be dismayed at the ever present finger-in-your-eye displays of bumper stickers (not just for candidates, but for “issues” real and imagined – civil and vulgar); the lawn signs about various topics that “matter”; mission accomplished; setting boundaries; planting a signal; and flags flying from castles from the Stars and Stripes to the yellow Gadsden “Don’t Tread on Me” of the Continental Navy and the yellow banner with parallel red lines of Viet Nam (how many did I see on the Capitol and how many know that it represents a failed war initiated in support of a despotic government), and variant strains of the American flag with either blue and/or red stripes.
Instead, my parents registered, informed themselves, and voted.
On March 12, 1968, in the New Hampshire Democratic primary, anti-war Senator Eugene McCarthy, supported by student volunteer canvassers and staff, came within 230 votes of defeating incumbent President Lyndon Johnson, the architect of the Viet Nam War. Nineteen days later on March 31, 1968, Johnson decided not to run for re-election, setting the stage for the (too long delayed) end of the war, an obvious result of what had been called the Children’s Crusade.
It takes a while to turn a war machine around and in April 1972, I boarded a plane for Viet Nam. A friend photographed me with a Boston Globe under my arm. He joked that I went off to a war carrying a folded newspaper while most men went to war with an M-16.
The vote in New Hampshire started the long process which ended the war on March 31, 1973. I left Viet Nam thirty-three days before the final American soldier left. The first American casualty of the war was an Airman from Weymouth, Massachusetts in 1956. There were no US casualties after I left, thereby signifying that there was a young man from Weymouth when the first and last American was killed in Viet Nam.
Years later, John Prine’s song “Those Flag Decals Won’t Get Your Into Heaven Anymore” became a favorite of mine:
But your flag decal won’t get you
Into Heaven any more
They’re already overcrowded
From your dirty little war
Now Jesus don’t like killin’
No matter what the reason’s for
And your flag decal won’t get you
Into Heaven any more