Democrats and mashed potatoes: Adult table talk

For the first time ever, I didn't have to sit at the children's table for Thanksgiving. Yes, for the past 19 years of my life I have been isolated to a card table and folding chair no less than five feet away from the adult table. Although this seating arrangement does afford me the opportunity to talk about the "Rugrats" movie and middle school dances, never did it let me express my political views while forming mashed potatoes into a giant volcano. This is the thrilling experience I got when sitting at the "big" table this Thanksgiving.

Erin McQuinn Playing with Words

In the past, I would always end up somehow lumped in with my ten and 11-year-old cousins rather than my 20-year-old brother when it comes to seating arrangements. Could it be because of my deep desire to start a food fight or say something "inappropriate" during dinner? I think not. Now I realize my strategic suspension at the children's table was a mere ploy to hide the black sheep of the family - the single Democrat among a sea of Republicans.

My family doesn't "talk" politics - they are politics. It's gotten to the point where words don't need to be said - a self-reflective smile and slow nod with those far gazing eyes has come to symbolize the thought of Republicans, Republicanism and all things "American." My grandmother doesn't need her remote control anymore as all she ever turns on is C-Span. So you can imagine the general disgust of the family when I said I voted for Gore.

My uncle, otherwise in a dead sleep, shot awake. Not even a fire alarm could rival his snoring, yet one mention of the word "Gore" and he was conscious with disbelief. My mother, trying to cover up an obvious miscommunication pleaded that I was just a college student, and even she voted for McGovern when she was in school. But it was much, much too late. In their minds, I had lost all sense with reality. Who was this girl sitting across from them at the table? Obviously not the same child they had attempted to brain-wash in earlier years with little stuffed elephant toys and such. After an exchange of distressed glances around the table, someone broke the silence with "No Christmas presents for you this year!" But unfortunately, it was all too true. I could see them all making little mental notes to buy me "A Charge to Keep" by George W. Bush.

But while I was making a sad attempt to spin the Reddi-whip artfully on the pumpkin pie, I stopped to think - was my mother right? Was I only a Democrat because I was in college? And more than that, I was attending the University of Michigan - a liberal campus to say the least. Or was it the other way around; had I sought out the University because it echoed the liberal beliefs I'd been hiding all my life? Not quite sure of the answer I discarded the question in search of a couch to take a nap on. But I should've known I wouldn't be so lucky.

One by one, my uncles approached me muttering phrases about the "value of a dollar" and stuff like that. It was all too easy for them in the past election to tear apart Clinton's character in support of Dole: "I want an honorable president," was all that needed to be said. But in this election, they couldn't do that all-too-easy character attack as it was their candidate who was the party boy. So they had to dig deeper just to show me how naïve I was.

But I was ready. I had known that it wouldn't be easy to defend my views, so I came prepared with the eight little words that could instantly turn the conversation to my favor: "I'm going to apply to the B-School."

Yes, it was a dirty little trick as I have no interest whatsoever in anything associated with Lorch Hall, but I was in a bind - what can I say? At that very second I received the enthusiastic yet cheesy two-thumbs up, uncle seal of approval: "Good choice!" It was as if all past sins of pro-choice and gun control had been forgiven. The Democratic shroud just seemed to slip off as I had seemingly committed myself to a lifetime of reading the Wall Street Journal and U.S. News and World Report. The conversation went on like that with a lot of nodding on my part and a strange longing for the children's table ...

True, in the end, I had lied to avoid a heated political debate. However, I was outnumbered 15 to one, so I don't feel that bad. What I do regret, though, is the fact that all these years I had begged for a seat at the adult table when deep down inside all I ever wanted was to reminisce about middle school dances and take turns blowing milk out of straws at my cousins. With all the insanity of life, it's good not to ever lose touch with the children's table.

- Erin McQuinn can be reached

via e-mail at emcquinn@umich.edu.