Political Conventions & Life In Four-Year Increments

If you're feeling distressed this convention cycle, try thinking about them like this.

Hello, friend, and welcome! I very much appreciate you being part of this community.

This convention cycle feels different, right?

Thinking about political conventions of the past can be helpful for a lot of reasons. Doing so helps us reflect about where we’ve been, see more clearly where we are, and contemplate more thoughtfully about where we want to go from here. History grounds us, humbles us, and hopefully teaches us.

So, be sure to share something you remember from a prior political convention—and no, it matters not what party you align yourself with. I want to hear from YOU.

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Political Conventions & Life In Four-Year Increments

For most of my life, I’ve been excited about tuning into the Republican and Democratic National Conventions. I’ve always watched them both—enjoying the speeches, the cheering, the energy, and the excitement of seeing democracy in action.

I’ve liked watching part of history unfold before my eyes. I’ve felt part of something important.

The parties have always been different, of course, with varying values and platforms, but yet, it still seemed like we were all on the same side.

That was before. Before you know what, or rather, you know who.

Things are different now—not just at convention time, but more or less, all the time. Politics has become tainted. I mean, really tainted.

These days, far too many politicians (on both sides) seem more focused on staying in power than doing the jobs they were elected to do. They seem unable, or just plain unwilling to work together to get things done.

Many of one party appear to have lost their way—almost unable to think or speak for themselves. Talking points are the go-to strategy. Maybe they always have been, but these days, it’s all about talking points. And, okay, I’m just gonna say it—there are too many lies. I mean, how could the Speaker of the House stand there Tuesday night and say with a straight face that his is the party of law and order?

Citizens are perplexed, cynical, doubtful of their leaders, worried about the future of democracy, fed up with the gridlock, weary of the chaos and fighting, and angry. Mostly, they are angry. And not without reason. As a woman who’s witnessed the over-turning of Roe (among a host of other things), I’m pretty darn angry myself.

But this post isn’t about all the political chaos, upheaval, and anger. It’s not about a poor debate performance or both candidates being too old. It’s not even about the assassination attempt on Trump the other day. We can talk about that stuff another day.

This post is about something else.

Another reason I’ve looked forward to political conventions in the past is because every four years while watching and listening, I also reflect.

I think about my life in four-year increments. Maybe you do too.

When I was growing up, my family always tuned in to watch the conventions. I’m not sure if this was because we were super interested or because we only had one or two TV channels to pick from. Nothing else was on. Choice was limited.

We cared not only about what the politicians were saying, we also cared about what Walter Cronkite had to say. What he had to say mattered, or maybe it was his calm, sensible delivery that mattered. Or maybe it was both.

This go-around, I will listen to thoughts and opinions various pundits put forward, but most likely, no one’s will seem nearly as impartial or weighty as Walter’s.

During the conventions, I look back and remember what I was doing during the last go-around and the go-around before that and so on. I think about my life in four-year increments. This might actually be my favorite thing about convention time.

Do you think of your life in four-year increments, too, at convention time?

Doing this, might ease your angst just a bit this cycle. Or not. Be sure to let me know in the comments.

Four years ago, I was recovering from DIEP flap breast reconstruction surgery (long story). I was still sleeping in a recliner in my family room. COVID-19 was still raging. The conventions had to adapt. Each did so in very different ways. (Do you remember?)

It was inspiring to see Kamala Harris nominated and then elected to fill the second position on the ticket. Women everywhere felt inspired. Young girls felt more seen and heard.

Official portrait of VP Kamala Harris - Photo by Lawrence Jackson

July eight years ago, I was in Texas attending son number one’s wedding. My dad had died just days before. After the wedding, I headed back home to bury him. Talk about a juxtaposition of emotions—a peculiar blend of joy and grief.

That was also the cycle we FINALLY saw a woman nominated to be at the top of the ticket. I thought I would finally be able to say I had lived to see a woman President in the White House.

Sadly, that was not mean to be. And yes, I can’t help but wonder where we’d be today if that had all turned out differently.

(I’ve yet to figure out why some have always felt such disdain for Hillary Clinton. Oh wait, she’s a smart, highly educated, independent-minded woman.)

Before that, 2012 saw Barrack Obama and Mitt Romney at the top of their respective tickets.

Four years earlier still, the conventions were taking place shortly after my mother had died from metastatic breast cancer. That was a melancholy time. Witnessing the first Black man nominated and then elected was indeed historic and uplifting. It felt like the entire country, regardless of political party, celebrated that long-awaited for milestone. (Remember those crowds?)

And, of course, my own cancer was not yet on my radar in 2008. 

I had no idea what was in store for me roughly two years down the road. Maybe it was better that way.

During the conventions this time around, I’ll be watching and reflecting about how the world of politics has changed over the years.

The Democratic National Convention of 1968 is the first one I remember (sort of). I remember the tumultuous atmosphere, the protests, and Hubert Humphrey securing the nomination for President. His nomination created extra buzz in my then home state of Minnesota. He lost, of course.

I’ll remember the times I watched while on family vacations and the times I watched while simultaneously preparing lesson plans for the start of another school year.

I’ll remember the historic DNC convention of 1984 when finally, there was a woman standing next to Walter Mondale who was not his wife but his running mate. Back then, I didn’t realize it was still going to be quite some time before a woman was running for the top job.

Yay, Geraldine Ferraro, and okay, even yay, Sarah Palin, for making it onto the tickets!

This year, I’ll be wondering AGAIN why it’s taking so long to get a woman into that all-important top job. I’m also beginning to wonder if I will see that happen in my lifetime.

Why is it taking so long?

I mean, I don’t have that much time left!

I’ll be remembering my parents, too. I wish I could chat with them about the state of the country. They would have such great perspective and sage advice. They’d probably also be a little shocked. Or maybe not.

And, of course, I’ll be reflecting about life before the great divide—you know, before the big ‘C.’

I’ll be watching, remembering, and yes, feeling hopeful about the future—trying to anyway.

I’m hopeful the American people will do the right right and come out in droves to vote for the better man. The good man. As I see it, the choice is obvious.

As the conventions unfold and playout this cycle, I feel uncertain and apprehensive, yes. But I also feel hopeful.

Because the future is, or should be, always about hope.

It has to be.

Are you watching the conventions this time around?

Are you feeling distressed about politics these days?

What is a memory you have of a political convention from years gone by?

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Thank you for reading my article. If you liked it, please share it with someone you think might also like it.

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Like you, I often wonder what I can do, if anything, to make a difference. Who is listening to folks like you and me? I’m not sure, but remember: Don’t despair. Your voice matters, too. Use it.

As always, I see you. I hear you, and I care about what you have to say. (Even if you disagree with me.)

Until next time…

Take care of yourself, and be kind to someone.

Thank you for being here with me.

Warmly and with gratitude,

Nancy

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