I grew up with a love of politics. Some of my earliest memories are seeing the assassination of Robert Kennedy on television, the nightly news broadcasts of the Vietnam war and later airliners exploding on the tarmac in Jordan during Black September in 1970. While waiting for my protestant friends to come home from school I watched the Watergate hearings. In fourth grade I wrote imaginative stories about Jimmy Carter living in a peanut, and my Favorite Sister and I discussed the merits of Jimmy Carter over Gerald Ford over the summer of 1976 while hoping Teddy Kennedy would run.
Every four years I became energized by the whole process and spectacle of American Democracy. I loved it – the heated debate, the rhetoric, the history, the pageantry. So getting a degree in what I loved was a natural. To me it was like studying football or baseball, just that the World Series or Super Bowl wasn’t held every year, although secretly I wished it was.
But I don’t love politics anymore, and I’m not exactly sure why. Perhaps it’s age; maybe I’ve seen too much and have learned that politics isn’t really a game. Politics does matter. Or perhaps it’s the fact that it does matter yet I have so little control over it that makes me find it depressing.
It’s not fun anymore, and since it is ingrained in my personal history it’s not like I lost interest in a recent TV show or anything. Politics has always been a critical part of who I am.
And now I’m sick of it and want to hide from it. Heh. Given the election is 9 months away it’s going to be pretty hard to do that.