Marcie's Meanderings column

I have never really considered myself a journalist. I never went to college for it. I never took classes, just writing classes in high school a hundred years ago. 

I consider a journalist someone who goes undercover, does three-part stories on heroin addiction or takes on the ugly stories. Besides, I’ve always regarded myself as someone who just writes articles. 

But today is different.

Last night my rose-colored glasses were torn off my face, thrown on the ground and stomped on. 

Last night was the Iowa caucuses. I am not into politics . . . at all. That being said, I do my patriotic duty and vote in all the elections. I try to choose the best candidate. I basically straddle the Democrat/Republican line.

Over my lifetime, I have been a registered Democrat, Independent and Republican. It changes periodically if there is a local candidate I feel strongly about, so I can vote in the primary.

I have never participated in a caucus, but I have attended some because of my job . . . as a writer. The last one I went to was in Lime Springs, where I live, in 2020. It was a Democratic caucus.

Since I had a meeting on Monday night in Cresco, to be completely unbiased, I decided to go to the Republican caucus. 

And then I heard there was to be a protest at the Democratic caucus. My plans changed. 

I didn’t see any signs or a large group of people when I pulled out. I got out of my car, holding my purse and camera bag. As I started to walk across the street, a man stepped out from between two cars. He startled me. I screamed. I do that.

He was nice and said, “Sorry.” Then he conversationally asked if I was going to the Democratic caucus. He didn't look familiar, so I was going to assure him the Chamber office was the correct place.

I answered in the affirmative.

“COMMUNIST! WHY DO YOU DRIVE A CAR, COMMUNIST? WHY ARE YOU WEARING CLOTHES, COMMUNIST?” he screamed. “(Blah, blah, blah), Uncle Joe, Communist!”

He took me by surprise. Cars? Clothes? Communist? 

He accomplished his mission. I got mad. I yelled back that I was with the newspaper and walked into the caucus. 

I was a little rattled. I had a dilemma. I don’t like to encourage bad behavior, but a protester on the streets of Cresco is news. Others came in. The man was yelling the same things to them.

The others did not recognize the man, either. I assume, a group of people decided to go to towns where nobody would know them to cause trouble.

I decided I had to do my job (as a journalist) and take pictures. 

I went outside and took a few pictures across the street.

The big thug, who had no problem yelling at people as they walked across the street, shouted, “Don’t take my picture.”

Well now . . . you are okay being a bully AND trying to stay anonymous. I kept clicking. He kept ducking behind cars. It was actually comical.

It was dark. As I have said, I am a writer/journalist. I never claimed to be a photographer. The pictures didn’t turn out very well. But just the thought of being on camera shut him up for a while. He left before the caucus started at 7 p.m.

I am smart enough to realize there are radicals on both sides of the political spectrum. It’s too bad that a couple of spoiled apples ruin the bushel.