Nov 02

My Vote, My Voice

Vote.

I voted by dropping off my ballot at Newburyport City Hall on Oct. 20. It was reported as accepted by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts on Oct. 22. Such is 2020 that I both did AND know these things.

I’m writing today for a couple of reasons:

  1. To get on the record prior to tomorrow (and whatever follows) why I voted how I did.
  2. To share my thoughts for anyone out there who’s still undecided about any of the races on their ballots.

While anyone following me likely knows my personal political leanings, I’ll say that — aside from the vehemence with which I hold some of these opinions — the people on the ballot mattered to me less than ever. That’s because, to me, our choice between belief systems and values is as stark as it’s been in my lifetime.

We often hear that “X election is the most important of our lives.” Usually that’s part of a get-out-the-vote drive by one party or another, one candidate or another. You (and I) take it with a grain of salt.

This time, though, I must concur. Our country is at a precipice, and while tomorrow’s results are unlikely to provide the final determination, they will push us in one of two distinct directions: A) pull us back from that edge for the time being — giving us an opportunity to reset and — perhaps — make necessary change; or B) nudge us further off balance on the edge of a cliff from which a fall may be fatal.

I don’t ask you to agree with all (or any) of my opinions. I merely hope you’ll read and consider them. Here’s to our votes. Here’s to our voices.

I voted for kindness and understanding.

I voted against hatred and willful ignorance.

I voted for compassion for and responsibility to our fellow citizens: patriotism.

I voted against indifference and lack of accountability to society: selfishness.

I voted for democracy.

I voted against authoritarianism.

I voted for equality and tolerance.

I voted against racism, sexism, and homophobia.

I voted for lifting the voices of those who’ve been voiceless for centuries.

I voted against the idea that the demands of those voices should be shrugged off with bogus equivocation — or worse.

I voted for the not-at-all-hard-to-understand idea that Black Lives Matter.

I voted against the idea that folks don’t understand exactly what that phrase means after growing up in this country.

I voted for celebrating both our similarities and our differences in service of becoming more thoughtful and understanding.

I voted against the tired phrase, “I don’t see color,” another equivocation used most by those descended from the people who created, codified, and enforced laws based solely on their perceptions of skin color.

I voted for women’s control of their own bodies and their own destinies.

I voted against the hegemony of toxic masculinity.

I voted for public oversight of law enforcement.

I voted against the militarization of law enforcement.

I voted for reallocating a not-insignificant percentage of the money spent on law enforcement and the military to resources that will better serve and improve our society.

I voted against the phrase “law and order” as a blatantly racist trope designed to make people feel better about their prejudices.

I voted for education as a crucial tool in turning ignorance to enlightenment.

I voted against the continuing destruction of our system of public education.

I voted for a government free of religion and the citizenry’s freedom from religion as legal directive — the initial idea behind its mention in the First Amendment.

I voted against any and all religions having sway over the laws enacted by and applied against any segment of our citizenry.

I voted for the work of journalists to hold those in power to account.

I voted against the phrase “fake news” and the demonization of the fourth estate.

I voted for belief in science and expertise.

I voted against belief in conspiracy theories.

I voted for minor inconvenience over illness and death.

I voted against the idea that being asked to wear a mask in service to public safety for a couple hours a week is akin to “slavery,” “authoritarianism,” or other inanities.

I voted for my business, which will only thrive again if science and public health come first.

I voted against sacrificing one more life in supposed service to the economy.

I voted for public elections and the rights of every citizen to take part.

I voted against voter suppression and voter intimidation.

I voted for immediate action on the existential issue of climate change.

I voted against the powers that continue to avoid facing this challenge — and appear ready to delay — until it’s too late.

I voted for an opportunity to return some semblance of truth and sanity to power.

I voted against lying, narcissism, and lunacy.

I voted for reality.

I voted against disinformation.

I voted for a 21st century America devoted to all the things I wrote of above.

I voted against a return to the mythical “good old days.”

I voted for peace.

I voted against violence.

I voted for my wife, my son, my family, my future … your future.

Oct 04

Guest Post: Bob Haire’s Letter to Vin Scully

As noted in my piece about Vin Scully on Oct. 2, with my dad’s permission, I wanted to post his letter to Vin Scully here as a guest post. Well, I received that approval. So, without further ado, here’s the outstanding note that he penned on Sept. 22:

September 22, 2016

Dear Vin,

In 1958, I was 10 years old. That year, the Brooklyn Dodgers moved to Los Angeles and I fell in love with a baseball team by listening to a magical voice on the radio. It was to play a huge role in saving my life. My sister and I grew up in a rough situation. My mother had a severe mental illness and my father was an alcoholic. My childhood consisted of isolating myself from my parents and taking care of my sister, who is four years younger than me. I include this information for context and not as a sob story. At 68, I have lived a life filled with joy, family, and great friends.

However, in 1958, playing baseball and listening to the Dodgers were the activities that helped give my life balance, normalcy, and contentment. The Dodgers became my escape and my passion – and that magical voice my passport to so many things more important than baseball. For the past 58 years, I have eagerly listened to my entertainer, my mentor, my storyteller, my philosopher, my inspiration, and my friend Vin Scully. The games were always entertaining but the education about life that elevated each broadcast to a higher level made every broadcast compelling.

I have so many fond memories of the greatest games. I can hear the “big bouncer over the mound” in the playoff game against the Braves that propelled the Dodgers into the 1959 World Series. I remember playing pool in my garage the night the Dodgers handed Elroy Face his only loss (18-1) in 1959. I can still visualize Sandy Koufax, in Yankee Stadium, striking out the side in the first inning of the 1963 World Series. His curve ball that day is still the best I’ve ever seen. In 1965, I was a junior in high school when Koufax pitched a complete game on two days rest to win the World Series. I was in Spanish class that day, with a transistor radio in my pocket and an earphone running up inside my shirt, because my parents wouldn’t let me stay home that day. I was at Dodger Stadium the night Don Drysdale broke the scoreless inning record. Last but not least, there’s the greatest moment in the history of Los Angeles sports: Kirk Gibson’s home run in the first game of the 1988 World Series. I mark your broadcasts of these moments as milestones in my life because they have brought so much pure joy.

When I go to Dodger Stadium now, I always cry tears of happiness during the National Anthem because it is my cathedral and one place where I feel a true sense of belonging and contentment. From my son’s season seats, I have always been able to look up into the press box and see the man that made this all real for me as a child – and every year since.

Vin, I know from reading so much about you and seeing you interviewed, that you are a kind, humble man who feels blessed to have been able to do the job to which you aspired. I can tell all the adulation makes you uncomfortable. When people say that you are the greatest sports announcer of all time (which you are) they are being complimentary and kind. However, some of them miss the reasons why you are so beloved by millions of people in Southern California and around the country. It is not just your technical ability to announce a game. Rather, it is your humility, your humanity, and your incredible ability to tell a story (your D-Day commentary from this year being a prime example). It’s also your ability to be funny and profound, to know when not to speak, and how you weave all of these elements into a single broadcast.

To me the pantheon of sports in Southern California consists of only four men: Sandy Koufax, Magic Johnson, John Wooden, and Vin Scully. I’ve only met one of them. I had the honor of meeting Magic Johnson when he was the keynote speaker at an event produced by my son. I was able to speak to him personally and found that he was an even better person than he was a Hall of Fame basketball player. I truly believe the other three men on my list fall in to the same category. The massive outpouring of love being directed your way is because we all know that Vin Scully, the great announcer, is dwarfed by Vin Scully, the man.

Vin, I want to wish you and your lovely wife Sandra the very best in retirement. You have been my friend for 58 years. You have lifted me up, calmed me down, thrilled me, taught me the meaning of grace and humility, and eternally entertained me. Even though we have never met, I feel both a need and an obligation to thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for everything you have done to make my life richer and happier. For my son Tom, my daughter Jenny, my sister Susan, we send you all our love and best wishes for a blessed retirement. This time the roar of the crowd is all for you!

Sincerely,

Robert Haire