All my life I've lived in the geographically beautiful, yet politically ugly state of Indiana. If you have never been to Indiana, or have but have only been on the interstates, you are missing some of the most beautiful landscapes on God's green earth. Subtle rolling hills covered with a blanket of red oaks and walnuts, broken by sweeping rivers of corn and soy that disappear again behind the next wooded hillock. (That's southern Indiana, of course. The north is exactly how I just described only opposite in every single way. Avoid it if you can, or just speed quickly onto Chicago). What offset this natural beauty at every turn was the political atmosphere of the Hoosier state.
While we may have had our liberal enclaves of Bloomington and the Region, by and large my Hoosier neighbors were at odds with my political views. They were more of the God-told-me-queermos-are-going-to-burn-in-hell folks. The I-want-my-$300-check-now-dammit crowd. You know, Republicans. I was never quite comfortable talking freely with those around me when I thought that the rich had an obligation to support those on whose backs their wealth was made. Or that my biology teacher shouldn't skip over the chapter on evolution. But I was young, still in high school, and I believed that my mind had a lot more development in its future.
But then a curious thing happened when I went off to college. I started noticing more and more that people agreed with my thoughts. At first I believed it was because I was at an institute of higher education. But my leaving for school doesn't explain why, when I visited home, my Gods and Guns neighbors were discussing the needs for universal health care. Or why churches were discussing the Christian duty to help the immigrants. It seemed, could it be, that the Hoosier state was hueing blue? Indeed my friends, that is what was happening. Every place I traveled (and in those days I had a penchant for road trips), more and more liberals were coming out of the woodwork. Often they had been like me, sure of their thoughts but with no one to listen. Many stood blinking in the sunlight, new to this brotherhood.
When the primaries came to town, it felt like a veritable revolution. In reality it was just the crest of a wave that had started 4 years earlier. Whether you were for Obama or Hillary, it didn't really matter. The vitriol was left to the campaigners. (notable exception: I was an Obama man, my girlfriend for Hillary. And she's sexy when she was angry.) What was important was that people were excited! Not just about politics, which alone would have been quite novel. They were excited about liberals! Our state was being visited by ex Presidents, former and future Secretaries of State, and one charismatic man with goofy ears. It was a good time to be alive.
So imagine my pride when, after campaigning, donating, and talking myself hoarse, I watched Indiana turn blue.
From South Carolina. My new home.
It was a bittersweet moment. I had cast my early vote in Indiana so I knew I had contributed to that razor thin victory. But I was denied the pleasure of saying I lived in a blue state.
After my 23 years living in Indiana, I thought I knew what conservative meant. I was wrong. Oh so wrong. I never particularly loathed Mitch Daniels. I didn't like him, didn't vote for him, but I didn't loathe him. He seemed to me like a lesser evil. Would I have liked someone else? Sure. Did I agree with many of his plans? No. Does talking in questions make you a douchebag? Undoubtedly. But he didn't arouse in me the ire that I felt towards most Republicans I read about on the internets. And now that I live under Governor Mark Sanford, I understand why. Mitch Daniels is like having Gerald Ford governor. Sanford? Well now I know how liberal Texans felt 1995 - 2000.
Witness this little juicy tidbit from the NY Times:
Gov. Mark Sanford of South Carolina, chairman of the Republican Governors Association, is among the most ardent opponents of the stimulus package, describing it as pork-barrel spending and bad policy and vowing — to the anger and chagrin of the Democratic members of the state’s Congressional delegation — not to take any of the money from Washington.
(note: I can't find him claiming that he won't take any of the money. Does anyone know if he's actually stated this?)
And why wouldn't he take the money?
"For every job the bill creates, American taxpayers will spend $223,000," Mr. Sanford wrote in an opinion article in The State newspaper on Sunday. "If we add the cost of this bill to the previous efforts of the federal government to deal with the financial crisis, the American taxpayer is on the hook for $9.7 trillion."
It feels good doesn't it? Too have such an altruistic and benevolent Governor looking out for the hardworking folk not just in his state, but throughout the nation?
Of course the people in his state could use just a schmidge more looking out. What with a "corridor of shame" of decrepit public elementary and high schools, with some of the worst test scores in the nation. And a public education so broke that there are whispers in the halls of the state universities of legislation to consolidate 3 or more universities' staff into one massive bureaucracy. Or a poverty rate that just eeks in to the top 10 of the nation. Or a energy structure so outdated that incineration is still used, and new coal plants being built despite the capability of 200% offshore wind power production. (source: Clemson published whitepaper. I don't think it's available online. Fascinating read though. Let me know if you want a copy.) Or an obesity rate that ranks 5th in the nation.
But you don't want any money to build schools, fight poor nutrition, or improve energy capabilities because you are so concerned with every day people?
It's politicians like these that make we want to flee back to the liberal Midwest.