As we stood in the line for our ward and precinct, we were chatting with some of our neighbors. I was holding the baby from five houses down as the old lady from across the street was talking my ear off about our cat. Why was this darn line taking so long? And then I remembered… the absolute dunce that convenes our neighborhood’s caucus. I swore inwardly that this was the year that I would be brave enough to run against him.

Later, in my seat, I started to get the feeling I always get while doing my civic duty. I started to get frustrated by how cumbersome and imperfect it can be. The cafeteria was hot, many people were confused about the process, and the line continued to stretch almost outside. A woman and I got up and started to route people to the different tables depending on whether or not they had caucused in our precinct before (I was shocked by the number of people who hadn’t). And as usual, I started to worry that first timers would get turned off by how confusing it can seem.

As the convener took over, my agitation grew. Although he was not wearing his pajamas this year, he was still reading directly from the direction sheet, stumbling over every other word and often mumbling part of it to himself. While this was going on I had plenty of time to think of leadership and change. As “D� was making his way through the explanation of the delegate process, finally people started asking questions: “What happens if there are not enough delegates?�, “What does it mean to go to the convention?�, and “Do we get to vote for Senators too?� I was half-listening but also wondering what this caucus would have looked like thirty years ago. Would have the convener have been highly prepared and on top of it, would everyone know what to expect, would the process be clicking like clock-work? I think it would have been a lot different. I wondered if this system did still work for us. Was I just partial to it because I was used to it?

In the end, I didn’t have the heart to challenge “D’s� leadership. I left knowing that I would see him again in two years. And even though I spent most of the evening at my caucus I couldn’t help but appreciating that sometimes it is really nice to see the process, with all of its imperfections, right before your eyes. I had to admit to myself, that if I really wanted to do “D’s� job, I should have stood up and been willing to take part in the process.

Which brings me back to Brian Melendez. Yes, Brian, I want more people to participate in the process. Yes, I want people who can’t make it during a two-hour window on a weeknight to be able to participate. But I also value SEEING and TALKING to my neighbors, I like watching people from the neighborhood with no special talents or qualifications taking leadership roles, and most of all, I like that this is something that Minnesota has always done.

Late on Tuesday night, I watched Obama talk about his candidacy and change. As he used a phrase, my co-workers and I often use, “We are the ones we have been waiting for,� I realized that’s what I like about both the caucus and Obama. I like that the focus is on the relationships that lead us to where the common good can grow and thrive.

I also thought about how well Obama had done in states where there were caucuses- where people really had a chance to engage in a traditional form of participation to bring about change. The caucus process allows people to gather and discuss, it is where young people can go and talk to older participants, and where there is space to convince one another of different ideas. Tradition can allow people an effective way to work toward change and take leadership roles they are comfortable with.

At the end of Super Tuesday, I felt that the process really made the difference. The two-hour caucus, rather than the vote-and-go primary, is what allows people to build relationships, to become leaders, and to contribute to the common good. When we are the people we’ve been waiting for, it’s nice to have time to get to know one another.