JC Penney Put Voting in my Heart; Payless Shoes Put Patriotism in my Soles

Make a plan to vote in November!

“Oh Mom, pleeeeease,” I implored. “All the cool Nativity kids have the stars and stripes tennis shoes. And you know I need a new pair of shoes.”

“Oh Judi. Those tennies sound unnecessarily expensive and we can’t afford to buy a silly fad for your growing feet,” Mom replied as she hurried about making dinner. She had come home late from teaching at Roosevelt School in Fargo, and there were starving kids to feed in Africa and the Stoa household.

“You always said that voting is our duty, and it’s 1972, an election year. I’m not old enough to vote, but these shoes will show people I’m patriotic.”

“And cool,” my sister Connie added.

“Yeah, and cool,” I said. Wow. Connie understood even if she was a whole year younger than me. Dang, maybe she was growing up.

“And Rita Nicklawsky got hers at Payless Shoes for less than $10. Mom, we can afford that,” I said continuing my uneducated debate method.”

“We’ll see,” Mom said, deflecting my fact and claim.

She was moving as quickly around my argument as she was around the kitchen.

“Now, if you want me to think more about it, go grab the Mighty Milk from the fridge and add powdered milk and water to it,” Mom said.

“Ahhhh Mom. I hate that taste and chunkiness. You know you’re not faking us out when you serve it in the Mighty Milk carton. We chew chunks, Mom, chunks,” I said.

“Judi don’t argue with me. We have to supplement it with powdered milk, we can’t afford you guys going through gallons of milk a day,” Mom said, with a flicker of despair, but then snapped to her usual, assured self. “And besides the chunks will disappear if you stir it well and put it back in the fridge to chill.”

Regret flickered in me for complaining about Mom’s and Dad’s efforts to stretch their teaching salaries to house, feed, and clothe their eight children, but then I snapped to my usual, egocentric self. I knew I had to stay on her good side, so I did as she told me. Except I didn’t stir the milk well enough to get rid of all the chunks. Looking back now, my lack-tose-luster effort, and similar efforts put forth by my siblings to stir the milk, may have been why our fortified milk floated fragments. You chew what you sew.

It was the fall of 1972. It was an election year. Nixon was the incumbent president running against Senator George McGovern of South Dakota.

Earlier that summer, five men had been arrested for breaking into the Democratic National Committee Headquarters to illegally bug the phones of Democratic workers. However, in September, I—and perhaps many U.S. citizens—would have defined Watergate as just another name for the Erie Canal, and defined Woodward and Bernstein’s Washington Post as an East Coast cereal.

Four years from voting age, I was not aware of politics even though Connie, Larry, and I had noticed older teens and young adults wearing patriotic red, white, and blue clothing, and saying America can be and should be better.

More important than that in my 14-year-old mind, JC Penney had “vote” t-shirts that were really cool. Connie and I had already persuaded Mom to buy the t-shirts for each of us as part of our annual, beginning of school, two outfits per kid, clothes-buying spree, and we proudly wore them whenever we could. I capped off my civic look with patriotism in my soles when later that week, Mom broke down and purchased the stars and stripes sneakers for me.

Nixon was easily reelected in November. Shortly after however, we begin to hear more about the Watergate break-in, and his efforts to cover it up. I was confused by the coverage about Watergate whenever I accidently watched television news over the following months and years. I didn’t understand why so many in Washington were in trouble each day when it was just five guys who broke in. And on top of that, the five guys never seemed to be mentioned in the news.

I didn’t know who the bad guys were. I didn’t know who the good guys were. I had no idea who was Republican or Democrat. I had no idea of Sam Ervin’s or Howard Baker’s roles, but I remember thinking that Baker had more of an honest face and voice than most of the men he questioned during the investigation.

By the time I was a high school freshman in 1974, all I understood or cared to understand was that Watergate was a big deal, involving a bunch of people including the President of the United States, and that some people believed Nixon when he declared “I am not a crook” while others thought he was a crook who covered up the break-in and not worthy of the highest office in the land.

It came to a head in the summer of 1974—August 8, 1974 to be exact. It was a warm day, but not uncomfortably hot. I lounged in Dad’s recliner in the front room of our house because I could. Dad wasn’t there to sit in it as he usually did to watch the news on TV because he and Mom had gone down to our lake cottage for the day.

A few of my brothers and sisters sprawled around the room as well, hoping Mom would return soon to make dinner. Larry stood at the TV to “flip the channels” to find a show we could watch. Of course it didn't take long to view all the couple of channels because it was two years before Ted Turner would launch his superstation and kick off the cable tv multitude of channel options.

Suddenly, Aunt Marjorie entered through the front door. She held a copy of the Fargo Forum newspaper in one hand and a couple of copies under her other arm.

“Well how are you kids?” she asked with a big smile.

Before we could answer, she continued, “Where is your Dad and Mom?”

“They’re not home from the lakes yet,” I responded, still half staring at the Professor and Mary Ann talking to the Howells on TV.

“Oh, okay,” Marjorie said with a look on her face indicating she wanted to talk with them. Or with someone. Anyone.

“Is there something wrong?” Dan asked. He was able to sense when things weren’t right.

“Well, this is an important day in history,” Marjorie said. “Earlier both Republicans and Democrats in the House Impeachment Committee had enough votes to declare that President Nixon is guilty of high crimes and misdemeanors. And because of that, the President of the United States resigned today. This has never happened in our country’s history. Ever. All of you need to remember this day.”

We may have discounted her order to etch the event in our memories because Marjorie was a U.S. History high school teacher. She tended to watch and record things that others may have let slip.

“Here. Take a look,” Marjorie said as she spread out the newspaper and we gathered around to look at the front page. We saw the Fargo Forum’s headline of “NIXON TO QUIT” in big, all capital letters. The headline seemed to shout at us. The letters were black and white, and larger than I’d ever seen in the paper—three times bigger than the font the editors used for the “Twas the Night Before Christmas” headline they ran every year on Christmas Eve.

“Wow. Does this mean he was impeached?” Dan asked, understanding the enormity of the situation.

“Wow,” I echoed.

"No, President Nixon resigned before the full House could vote on it, and therefore it did not go to the Senate to hold a trial to formally impeach him," Marjorie explained.

“Does this mean we don't have a president?” Connie asked.

“You kids need to study the U.S. Constitution in school,” Marjorie said.

“No Margie. We don’t have to learn anything. Remember we are on summer vacation,” Larry countered.

“Oh that’s not what I meant," Marjorie said, a little flustered. "But in any case, to answer Connie’s question, yes, Vice President Gerald Ford has been sworn in as our 38th President.”

“Our constitution has a plan for continuity of leadership,” Marjorie continued with great solemnity. “Today is proof that our founding fathers created a constitution that works no matter what adversity our nation faces.”

Aunt Marjorie was usually among the first to laugh at our jokes as well as to utter quick, witty comebacks in conversations. But that day she was not joking. I decided to commit the moment to my memory, as she had requested.

Through the lesson I learned from Marjorie as well as my parents, and as I've grown older, I've paid more attention to our government and the constitution, and participated by voting, canvassing and making phone calls for a state candidate, contacting my senators and representatives, and even marching a half dozen times to have my voice heard.

I wish I had my JC Penney “vote” t-shirt and Payless Shoes stars and stripes sneakers from 48 years ago to wear during this election year, because I think it is the most important election in my lifetime.

So, if you please, I will share my lesson with you. It is short and sweet.

Vote. Pay attention. Participate.

U.S. Senator Carl Schurz's quote from 149 years ago supports that call to action. He understood patriotism, held our country in esteem, and wanted to keep our country as the beacon shining brightly for us and for people around the world. Carl said, "My country right or wrong; if right, to be kept right; and if wrong, to be set right."

Voting is our right. And it’s our duty because the United States can be, should be, and will be, better.

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