It was breakfast time again. After helping Patrick clear the snow in front of the house, Neil was sweating all over—making breakfast taste exceptionally good.
As usual, they turned on the radio. Unsurprisingly, it was still talking about the midterm elections. Despite a severe economic crisis and surging public dissatisfaction backing the Democrats—guess what?
The Republicans won big!
It was absurd, really. With control of the administrative apparatus, the inertia from years of victories, and low voter turnout, the Republicans secured a sweeping win. The Democrats gained a few more seats than before, but nothing close to taking control. The presidency and both houses of Congress still firmly belonged to the Republicans—they continued to rule unchallenged.
To put it bluntly, the Democrats' hundred-some seats weren't even enough to seriously challenge the Republicans. Just like that one hopeless century-old party in the later years, with barely thirty-some seats, they couldn't even function as an opposition party, let alone have a real voice.
Technically, holding the midterms in November was never ideal. But a hundred years ago, that schedule was chosen to match the routine of the main voting population—farmers. Makes sense: farmers needed to harvest their crops and deal with storage or export before they could vote.
At that time, only white males who paid a certain amount of taxes had full voting and election rights. Black people had only three-fifths voting power, and even that was largely controlled by landowners. Native Americans didn't pay taxes and thus had no voting rights at all.
No exaggeration—many Southern states had their representatives and state officials "elected" after a few local gentry got together and made a decision. A handful of men decided the democratic rights of tens or even hundreds of thousands. That was the reality of American democracy.
Things have changed—now it's a universal suffrage system. But that created a big problem. In the past, just a few landowners had to take a day off to vote after finishing their chores. Now millions have to vote.
In mountainous states like West Virginia, November often brings snow. For urban dwellers it's manageable, but for farmers living several or even a dozen kilometers outside of town, it's incredibly hard to vote. Snow-covered roads are hard to travel. Many households lack transportation, and to be blunt, some people's boots were so worn that they couldn't walk even a few kilometers through snow to vote.
This was one reason Irish farmers didn't vote in the past. Trying to vote in the dead of winter was almost a death sentence.
This time, however, Neil mobilized everything he had. Combined with the hope of receiving emergency federal agricultural aid, the drought reducing snowfall, and a rare chance to go outside—the stars aligned. Tens of thousands of newly registered Irish voters stepped out of their homes, went to polling stations in town, and cast their crucial votes.
Needless to say, the Republican Party—promising agricultural aid through their political resources—won the election!
"Will the relief funds be approved?" Aunt Ginny asked while chatting with a neighbor, who was clearly very curious about this.
To them, Neil was someone with connections and knowledge, someone who knew how to deal with those high-up politicians. Some of them couldn't even get a full sentence out when talking to such people.
"They probably will…" Neil hadn't been too certain before, but now he was 70 to 80 percent sure.
The Republicans may have won big again, holding majorities in both houses. But they couldn't ignore the Democratic comeback. In many Eastern towns, Catholic voters—angered by unemployment—turned to the Democrats. That increased the Democrats' urban support.
The Republicans, hoping to retain their base and stabilize public opinion, were now likely to show favor to the newly participating Irish farming voters.
To put it more bluntly: if they didn't spend money now, when they still had power and resources—were they going to wait until they were out of office and try to trick voters with empty promises? Voters might be uneducated and unsophisticated, but they recognize cold, hard cash.
Only when voters receive real benefits—or at least feel their lives improving—will they continue supporting Republican rule.
Otherwise, no matter how many promises are made, they're just castles in the air. Voters don't trust politicians to begin with—why would they believe an empty promise?
"Hope it comes soon. We need to buy coal for heating." Aunt Ginny sat down, glanced around at everyone's plates.
Noticing Patrick's plate already half-empty, she got up and brought the pot of oatmeal, scooping him two big ladles full.
"Anything on the radio?" Patrick, unusually distracted, asked. He usually just focused on eating.
The month before, he had earned a bit of money hauling coal for neighbors. With cash flows dried up, many coal mines had closed. The few remaining ones sold coal at prices less than half the previous rate—for cash only. On Neil's advice, Patrick drove his Ford pickup to haul coal from the mines and sell it in nearby rural areas.
But Patrick wasn't much of a talker, and the buyers were mostly friends and neighbors—he couldn't bring himself to charge much. So it was half-charity, half-business. After a month, he basically brought back one load of coal for his own family and earned just enough to cover his effort.
"They haven't said anything yet," Neil said, opening the local newspaper to the politics and economy section.
The paper wasn't from today. It was five kilometers to town—no way the deliveryman biked that far every day. He usually dropped off the week's papers in one go. There was rarely any breaking news anyway.
"When you two are done eating, one of you take Debbie to school!" Aunt Ginny finally sat down properly and took a couple bites of oatmeal.
"I'll go. I need to deliver more coal to the Campbells," Patrick said. Now that he had a wife, he couldn't forget about his in-laws, who also had a big family and needed heating.
"Then be quick."
"We now interrupt with breaking news: Following approval by the Congressional Special Review Committee, farmers in this state will receive an emergency relief fund of twenty-four million dollars. Sources say this was secured through efforts led by state-native Congressman Robert and the governor..."
Just as the weather report was playing, the radio cut in with an urgent message—the best news any farmer in the state could hope for before Christmas.