Uninspiring candidates kept resident on the sidelines

It is Tuesday, Nov. 4 and for the first time since November 1964, I have declined my right as a citizen and did not vote. I must admit that I am a little ashamed; after all, I was taught and always believed that "the right to vote" was part of the freedom afforded to all citizens of the United States.

I was in Marine Corps boot camp in Parris Island, S.C., in 1954 and I executed my first ballot (a hand-written absentee to be sent back to my home district in Brooklyn, N.Y.). I continued to vote each and every time, even though I moved from Brooklyn to Long Island, to Old Bridge, to San Francisco, and finally back to Manalapan. Each time, I would attempt to understand the issues and the positions of each candidate, regardless of my party affiliation.

But this time, I gave up. I cannot make a decision today on whom and what to vote for, and I feel cheated. Over the last month, like everyone else I was flooded with telephone calls, inundated with hundreds of mailings, and blinded by the thousands of street signs which adorn each and every road in my neighborhood.

There were blue signs, white signs, red signs — some with familiar names and others not so familiar. The flash-card repetition of these signs has enabled me to perfectly spell each and every name, if so asked. But if I am asked to recite what I know about the candidates, the best I could do is to say that they were all complainers about their opponents.

I do not need a political hopeful to explain their opponent’s weakness. I need a candidate to explain his or her own strength. It never happened, and I would love to meet a neighbor or friend who can say that it did. Everyone I speak with is as equally disgusted with the way this year’s candidates robbed us of our basic right: namely, tell me what you stand for, and if you agree, vote for me; if you don’t agree, vote for the other guy.

Most people who provide us with a service attempt to be polite. The young guy or girl at all of the chain restaurants proudly announces, "Hi. My name is (let’s say, Cindy) and I will be your server tonight. Please let me know what you want, and I will gladly do it for you. Here is your menu, and please ask if you need any explanations."

For once it would be nice to hear, "Hi. My name is (political candidate so-and-so) and I will be your server in the community for the next four years. Please let me know what you want, and I will gladly try to do it for you. Here is the menu of my political platform, and please ask if you need any explanations."

Your see, I am so ashamed about not voting that I guess I am spending the day just dreaming. How sad for me, and maybe for you.

Vic Schioppo

Manalapan