Odd Ducks And Shameful Ballots

My childhood friend April, used to live in this house. She was that kind of kid some people had as a friend, the kind one adores but one is at the same time a little publicly ashamed to have as a friend. We could entertain ourselves endlessly, wandering in and out of girly fantasy worlds together, occasionally being found convulsing with laughter on the living room floor. Social rejects would be a strong and hasty term to describe the social strata April's family belongs to, however, they were what one might define as odd ducks. Her mother worked odd jobs, until she landed a job making fake teeth for a dental supply company. Her father worked for Honeywell on the conveyer belt. They had a wood burning oven for heat. I remember in the nineties, our elementary school conducted a phony presidential election, where students were made to vote for the actual running candidates and the "president" was announced over the loud speaker. Most children voted for who they had heard their parents talking about voting for. I will never forget the day April told me that she was voting for Ross Perot, and that although that was not who I was voting for, and I didn't really understand the nature of what it meant to vote for Ross Perot, it made ultimate sense that she would vote for him. In retrospect, it still makes ultimate sense.