I wear XL. I used to be 1.75 m tall, now I am 1.70 m tall and still wear XL.
It’s not pretty, dear reader, but I will fit into a coffin or oven with no problem.
I tend towards the latter, but am still undecided.
It’s not unusual to be undecided about how to leave this world, is it? There are clear choices, each with similarities and differences, pros and cons. To be honest, I don’t really care which way I go. I’ll most likely go for the easiest and least expensive method.
When faced with two or more choices, I often find that my decision depends on my mood. Mocha chip or chocolate? The Great Gatsby or Moby Dick? Casablanca or Annie Hall? Mr. Tambourine Man, My Back Pages or Desolation Road? I’m undecided about these and many other choices, but on any given day my mood dictates where I stand.
On more important issues, I’m pretty clear in my views, but sometimes I’m willing to give in a little. When it comes to bringing a community together, I’m willing to slightly change my views on abortion, gun ownership, environmentalism, energy, and immigration. That doesn’t mean I’m indecisive, of course; my views are strong, but I try to adjust them if it helps bring people to acceptance and understanding.
And of course, the BIG decision will soon be upon us: Trump or Harris? As you know, poll numbers fluctuate from week to week, and the bottom line is that the two candidates are neck and neck. So it’s very likely that the “undecided” in some swing states will determine the outcome of the election and the state of our democracy in the years to come: a sobering thought.
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Over 40% of voters are determined to give their vote to someone who has no interest in their needs or livelihood. So be it. They have been sucked into a black (red) hole and are beyond redemption. As French statesman and diplomat Charles Maurice De Talleyrand once said: “In politics, stupidity is not a handicap.”
What is absolutely astounding, however, is the fact that 9-10% of American voters describe themselves as “undecided.” Undecided! How is that even possible?
We’re not talking about favorite movies, favorite novels, or favorite Dylan songs. This is Donald Trump versus Kamala Harris. It’s a convicted felon versus a former prosecutor, a man (I use the term loosely here) who has denigrated immigrants, women, veterans, and the disabled versus an intelligent woman of color and Asian descent. It’s a disgusting, immoral person with an undiagnosed personality disorder versus someone who served as vice president in an honest, compassionate, and intelligent way. Harris may not be the perfect candidate, but if you had the choice, would you rather drink mediocre lemonade or raw sewage?
These undecideds are an interesting group. When I read and listen to interviews, a few things stand out to me. Almost none of these people like Donald Trump as a person; they recognize that he is a terrible person. And they don’t seem to care how terrible he is either. If what comes out of his mouth (an unidentifiable form of English) makes them feel more secure and more economically hopeful, they are likely to vote for him. These same people are also reacting positively to the new Democratic nominee. They say that Harris brings new energy to the campaign, that they are willing to give her a chance, to hear what she has to say, and to make a decision at some point.
After writing the last 584 words of this column, I was stuck. I had no conclusions or enlightening thoughts about the voters who would decide the election.
I walked away for three days until—presto!—I realized this. (Don’t expect a major revelation or life-changing moment, dear column readers. Just a little realization, a bone to gnaw on.) The undecided do what we all do: They decide to open some of their mental compartments and keep the rest closed.
I imagine our brains as big storage rooms filled with hundreds of little boxes that we’re constantly opening and closing depending on the situation. When I order from Amazon Prime, I open the “Good price” and “Fast delivery” boxes, and keep the boxes labeled “Excessive packaging,” “Energy consumption of delivery trucks,” and “Bad for small businesses” closed. When I play golf, I do the same: I open the “Personal pleasure” and “Good exercise” boxes, while keeping the “Water usage issues” and “Environmental concerns” boxes tightly closed.
We are human; we put our feelings into boxes, sometimes to rationalize our behavior, but more often, I think, to function sensibly in the world. Don’t we often think or act in ways that require us to ward off guilt or insecurity? I know that’s true of me. Trump supporters have opened boxes with many labels, including tribalism, fear, belief in authority, and distrust of scientific facts. Other boxes containing terrible truths are locked and ignored.
And finally, there are the undecided. They are still opening and closing their mental drawers, trying to figure out what is really important to them. And when they do that, all the drawers are closed except those that agree with their decision.
This brings me back to the issue of mood decisions. How will that 10% of voters feel when they enter the voting booth?
If I were an AI wizard, I would invent a program that could remotely open and close mental compartments containing facts and common sense. Failing that, I can only hope that many undecideds will be in a “gloomy” mood on November 3rd.
Gene Stamell opens and closes his boxes in Leverett. He welcomes feedback and responds at [email protected].
