Happy holiday! It is ELECTION DAY. We have until 7 p.m. to make it to the polls and VOTE.
This election is not just about choosing the president. There are local issues and local races also (how did you miss knowing that? Didn't you get the same 1,693 phone calls I did?)
Look at your sample ballots if you haven't already. By now you know what you think on each of the candidates and the questions. Now, you have two choices:
(1) Get in your car and drive to your polling place. Take your ID just in case there is a challenge (don't expect one, but be prepared.)
(2) Put on your walking shoes and walk to your polling place. Take your ID just in case there is a challenge (don't expect one, but be prepared.)
Now, VOTE. Follow the exact procedures set up at your polling site, whether you have a paper ballot, a voting machine or one of the new-fangled video screen things. DO IT RIGHT, you hear?
Once you have completed the process, smile sweetly at the poll workers, breathe deeply and slap on your "I VOTED" sticker. Be a positive example for others. Offer someone a ride to the poll if they can't get there, then buy them a cup of coffee to celebrate on the way home.
This IS a holiday, people. There are rules!
VOTE!
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Update: I was at my polling place about 9:30 a.m. There was a line all the way out the door, with many more people in the parking lot making their way to the poll.
Several ladies were walking from Villa Isenbart and Trinity Place, the two retirement homes located just west of St. Patrick's Catholic Church, my voting location. With slow intention, they crossed the parking lot with their three-wheel walkers.
A man who had driven from the neighborhood was returning his wheelchair to the trunk of his car, his walker close at hand so he could get to the driver's seat.
The word "determination" flashed in my mind. We Americans were on a mission today.
It was a secular equivalent to a sacred moment, seeing the variety of people who had made voting a high-priority duty this morning. There were young, old, black, white, Vietnamese, Hispanic ... very representative of my neighborhood.
Going in, most people wore a serious expression -- brows furrowed, almost a prayerful stance as they committed to complete this covenant.
As they slipped their ballots into the ballot machine and watched as the green light recorded their votes, their countenances changed to a relaxed smile. Without exception, they seemed to stand taller and easier, with the weight of this duty lifted from their shoulders.
They smiled at those remaining in the line as they left the sixth grade Christian Education room at St. Patrick's Catholic Church. And it seemed the statue of the Madonna in the corner of the hallway smiled too.
There were some blips. One particular couple had spoiled their ballots because they failed to use the special felt-tip pen to mark their ballots. The poll workers issued them new ballots with clearer instructions to use the pens that were provided. She allowed them to use their old ballot as a guide for filling out the new ones -- a mistake. Instead of returning the spoiled ballots, the couple tore them up and threw them in the trash can. The poll workers had to retrieve the scraps to submit to the Election Board.
Those keeping the registration books sat sullenly on their side of the table. Instead of letting those in line know which books they were tending, they sat there, wordless, with a grim stare. It felt like we were imposing on them. I wanted to shake them. Instead, I made a point of (loudly) asking the old man behind the first book which book he had. He mumbled, barely audibly, "A through K." Not to be stopped, I cheerfully said "Oh GOOD! That's MY book." He was not pleased. He had to find my name. Sheesh.
One poll worker was asked to give assistance to a woman whose hands were too shaky to mark her ballot. Clearly the poll worker didn't understand the request -- she took the woman over to a table instead of a voting booth, where everyone could hear their communications. The voter was trying to tell the worker how she wanted to mark her vote; the worker pointed at the selection and said "You mark it here." DUH. The voter again repeated (for about the fifth time) that her hands shook too much to mark the ballot herself and again asked the worker for her help with the pen. I think the worker FINALLY understood the request and helped the woman finish her ballot.
I put my finished ballot in the machine and watched the green light come on. I was ballot #333 -- an excellent turnout for 9:30 in the morning. Many times there aren't that many votes cast by the end of election day. I am encouraged by the dedication of a large number of voters.
I put my "I Voted" sticker on and scanned the crowd one last time -- the business people, the retired, those who were down and out and smelly. Every one of us an American with a precious right and duty to self-determination.
God Bless America!
I didn't ask why you were supporting a Democrat, Frenzied, because I just figured it was a sign you were finally coming to your senses ... :)
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