Written by More!   

Tuesday, June 7th, in Southern California, that great and almost mythical place--I went to that same polling place at which I have voted at for at least the last six elections. A few weeks before, on May 20, after years--as either a Green, or Peace and Freedom Party voter--I had re-registered as a Democrat:

In order to cast a Democratic ballot for Bernie Sanders

Even though I have been homeless--and sleeping on sidewalks--for over 19 years in this mythical Los Angeles:

I still believe in voting

I still believe, somehow--it means something.

Something much, much, more than all the movie fantasies spun here--and loosed upon all of us of this earth.

So, prior--on May 27, after checking online all week--to see if my registration had been updated, I couldn't even now find myself listed, any longer, on the California Secretary of State's "Voter Information Website." I then called our County's "Voter Hotline;" and after half-an-hour of back-and-forth, and being on hold, I was assured that even though I could not find my registration anywhere on the official website--that, yes, my registration had indeed been updated--down to the exact sidewalk that I sleep on in America's great and dream-sprawl of L.A.

And that, clearly, I would be given a Democratic ballot when I went to my polling place--for this very important, and historic, June 7 election.

So, after the embarrassment of wash-cloth bathing in a public park, as discreetly as I could--especially for the occasion--and putting on some nice clean clothes, that I had saved; and further dabbing myself with lots of deodorent--and even some very strong and powerful peppermint oil to guard me against the great crime of social embarrasment in our world's leading beacon of moral clarity --when I arrived at the poll, sure enough, I was cheerily informed by a perky young lady--who acted as if she was just helping me pick out pears, at one of those fancy high-end markets now everywhere in America--that none here can ever afford to shop at --that although I was STILL a registered Peace and Freedom Party voter:

--that she'd be just thrilled to give me a provisional Democratic Party ballot.

Provisional ballots--just seem a lot like all us homeless now in America.

Nobody seems to know if any of us here--in the U.S.--are ever even really counted.

I declined, and said that I wanted to make a phone call first. And that I would get back to them.

I went outside.

Again, I called the County's Voter Hotline.

I have no home, but I do, like many homeless now, somehow, in great America, have a very highly-suspicious phone:

It asks of me this, constantly: If I "agree to all of it's terms."

And I have no idea what they are.

This. Before it lets me do anything.

I'm also told, that like everybody else on this planet now:

That everything I say on it is monitored

So, after about 20 minutes on the phone, several holds, and being quizzed over and over--as to whether Colorado Ave was north or south (it is neither in the 90401 zip code) the hotline attendant informed me that yes, I was indeed--now a registered American Democrat.

According to all their records.

She then also offered to speak with the pollworker: and so I went back inside the polling place

And handed the phone to the perky young lady.

I did not hear the conversation. But I saw the very perky young lady's face go very blank, and that her eyes registered she was getting something of a lengthy dressing-down.

After several moments, she handed the phone back to me, and said, "Here's your Democratic ballot."

The pollworker sitting next to her--a nice middle-aged lady--looked up at me:

And slyly winked.

So, ballot in hand, I finally voted.

Later, after peddling a bicycle loaded with every beaten and worldly thing remaining that I own--up quite a hill just to get there, and seeing the humble man in person--at Bernie Sanders' rally in Santa Monica California that night:

I simply cheered my heart out.

For I had thought long and hard if I would vote for Bernie Sanders.

I would say that the most important reason I decided he'd earned this vote, from one like me, was because of the fact that he's run unafraid of the word socialist--and unafraid to connect it, unashamedly, with the Democratic--and because of the millions of young people that have joined with him now, and are counting on him:

To not let them down.

And even though I am now 60 years old, and grey, and still on sidewalks.

No--it ain't over.

And I was glad that Bernie refused--again--at least for now: To say that.

For all of us, now, it's just begun.

And even if Bernie steps aside, and even if it means we all must end up on sidewalks: before it actually does.

For it will be, still--a relief.

For us all, of this earth.

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"David Busch is a homeless person and human rights activist in Los Angeles. An unemplyable Unitarian scholar of high grammner and spelliing--when not in jail, he can be reached at: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it "