WELL, IT ALL BEGAN WAY BACK IN THE SEVENTH CENTURY

No one ever claimed citizenship in a democracy was easy, which should come as no surprise to many Americans, including myself, who have weighed in against this or that turn of changing events during what will certainly go down as one of our nation's most memorable, if not lovable, elections.

Most of us probably wouldn't wish the indecision, torment and frustration that have been invoked in this Y2K post-election period on our worst enemies. After all, as good citizens we wish nothing but the best for our neighbors as well as our nation. The kindred spirits that make up our neighborhood, our communities, even our states, have an inalienable right to the pursuit of happiness and a heritage that guarantees them immediate election results.

It is this common bond that became frayed and unglued sometime after Nov. 7, which looking back on it now seems like a tortured lifetime. If memory serves, we awakened the day after voting to hear the news that a winner of this year's presidential contest wasn't quite discernible at the moment, although we were promised that one would be coming along in short order.

Being patient, if somewhat annoyed that the world's most powerful nation couldn't provide for our immediate gratification, we trusted in our cherished institutions to announce the winner within a day or two.

In a word, we trusted our Uncle Sam to deliver the verdict. Instead we faced innumerable delays that were created by a seemingly jerry-built electoral system in just one state. We made a few jokes about Florida, while still trusting our government to provide the answers we were now more impatiently expecting. But we still trusted Uncle Sam.

During this waiting period I suddenly recalled an incident that occurred in Washington, D.C., immediately after the assassination of President John Kennedy in 1963.

When I heard the news of the disaster in Dallas I was having lunch with a senator from Missouri who immediately became frightened that the president's death could be the signal of a Soviet plot to kill other federal officials. The senator became extremely nervous and wanted to leave the restaurant immediately to return to his office near the Capitol. We hopped in a cab and headed for Capitol Hill. As we drove past the back of the building, a huge limousine bearing license No. 2 was parked, waiting for someone to appear. "Look at that," the senator said in a voice suddenly much calmer, "They've even made the transition to protect Sam Rayburn. Trust Uncle Sam to do the right thing at the right moment."

By the time the senator arrived at his suite in the Senate Office Building, he was calmer than I was, cooler than a cucumber, having just witnessed his government in action during what seemed a perilous moment in history.

Depending on your outlook, the election impasse America has been witnessing in recent days hardly rates as a constitutional crisis, even as it invokes doubt and frustration among the strongest patriots. I knew the question of who would serve as our next president would be resolved and before too long all of us would be privileged to witness his inauguration in January.

How did I know this? Because just as in 1963, our government works not on our impatient, implausible timetable, but on the clock and calendar of the Constitution.

After all, there have been enough moments during this crisis to keep even the calmest citizen distracted if not amused. Each time, for example, one of the candidates sought remedies in a seemingly appropriate court, his opponent's lawyers would lash out at "judicial intervention," and "tyranny," while invoking the mantra that America is a nation of laws.

Not even Leno and Letterman are that funny.

And let's not forget that we have been able to add an untold number of words to our American dictionary. Before this election the only chad I had heard of was a British saint who lived more than 1,300 years ago and was chosen for his celestial position because of his patience and his willingness to permit his clerical opponent to become a bishop during a time of public discord.

Ah, now there was a saint more myopic partisans should study and try to emulate.

It seems our historical saint had received his appointment as bishop at about the same time his adversary was appointed by a different clerical hierarchy. The fact that there were two contenders for the single position riled the citizens to such a degree that actual battles took place to decide the rightful heir. Rather than stand by while his fellow parishioners were dying in his behalf, the sainted Chad removed himself from contention, insisting that he would wait his turn.

Fate intervened quickly, for the newly installed bishop soon died during a plague. Our hero was then installed in the world's history books, while his opponent was quickly forgotten and relegated to nothing more than a postscript at the bottom of the page of a few ecclesiastical tracts. Indeed, Bishop Chad was so noble that he quickly became known as the Saint of Lost Causes, a title he still bears in the English Midlands.

There's no evidence that either Al Gore or George W. Bush has ever heard of St. Chad or that, if they have, there seemed to be no inclination by either to follow his saintly lead. After all, no one ever accused today's American politicians of being saints.

Between St. Chad and Uncle Sam, we will survive this election and, I predict, amend the egregious rules that presented us this moment in history.

Imagine your pleasure when your grandchild asks you about the Political Pox of the Year 2000. I can hear you now saying, "Well, child, it all began with a British cleric in the seventh century named St. Chad, a wise and noble man ... ."

~Jack Stapleton is editor of Missouri News and Editorial Service.