“How’s it going, Dad?” Juan’s son, Carlos, was calling him from his military base.
“It’s good, mijo! Your mother and I are looking forward to your visit,” Juan answered. “You’ve been gone too long.”
Juan’s comment made Carlos laugh, “Speaking of taking too long, Dad, how’s Arizona going with that recount? The rest of the country is still waiting on you guys to figure out who won!”
“Knock it off!” Juan joked back. “Don’t you know I cast the deciding vote this year? They’re all trying to count my vote.”
On November 5, 2024, the nation was forced to endure another fiercely contested election. As the electoral landscape unfolded, Arizona assumed a position of paramount importance. A razor-thin margin triggered an automatic machine recount.
“When does your plane land?” Juan wanted to know. “I’ll pick you up.”
There was a noise on the phone that sounded like clicking on a computer keyboard, “My flight itinerary has me wheels down at Sky Harbor at 15:30 on December 15,” Carlos said. “I’ll be home for Christmas.”
“What time is that for us civilians, mijo?” Juan growled. “I don’t speak Army talk.”
The Arizona recount called into question the integrity of the state’s election process. As lawyers from across the country descended on the Grand Canyon State, the Arizona Supreme Court was finally compelled to order a manual recount in select counties. Sometimes the recounts had to be conducted a second, or even third, time.
“I’m a Marine, Dad,” Carlos snapped the words in a way that meant, “Don’t forget that.” Then his voice became mockingly playful again, “That’s three-thirty for you civilians. It’s a Sunday.”
“I know what day you’re coming!” Juan snapped his words in a way that meant, “Respect your father.”
They spoke for a little while longer until Carlos had to go, “Hey Dad?”
“What?”
“Do you think this election will go all the way to the Supreme Court?” Carlos asked.
When did my little boy start worrying about politics? Juan wondered. “I don’t know, maybe.”
“Well, OK. Give my love to Mom.” Carlos said, and they hung up.
Due to the extreme urgency of the political crisis unfolding in Arizona, the US Supreme Court, in a 5-4 decision, decided at last to intervene in the electoral process. The court’s decision effectively halted the manual recount.
Juan arrived at the airport early to pick up Carlos. With nothing to do while he waited, Juan contented himself by watching CNN playing on one of the big overhead screens.
“In a proclamation that is sending shockwaves around the world,” the breathless commentator reported the breaking news, “Arizona Secretary of State Adrian Fontes, endowed with the responsibility of certifying the election results, has just proclaimed Donald Trump the victor of the 2024 Presidential race. Donald Trump is once again the President of the United States!”
“MAGA!” came a hoot from behind him. Juan turned to see his son standing proudly in his Marine service uniform.
They embraced. “It’s good to see you again, mijo! So Good!”
“You too, Dad.” Carlos reached down and hefted a very heavy-looking bag to his shoulder. “I’m so glad to have our real Commander-in-Chief back, Oorah!”
“Ah,” Juan said with a groan. “Politics is just dirty business. It’s all about the money.”
As they headed outside for the truck, Juan thought, I should be proud that I voted, even if my guy didn’t win. But in his heart, he felt discouraged and disappointed with the whole process. He hadn’t made any difference at all.
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