As a guest contributor in the Worldview living room/election headquarters, I feel obliged to contribute something more meaningful than a couple of empty bottles to the kitchen counter.
So, my voting story: Like many people across the country, it took me a while to cast my vote. I stood in the chilly morning air with my six-year-old for almost a full hour while the poll workers rectified a problem with the electronic voting machines (apparently, the firemen who work in my polling place needed to move the voting machines during the night and they didn’t get hooked back up properly). Some of the people with whom I stood in line were more understanding than others, but with only 4 exceptions I would say we were a very well-mannered and patient. My employer was very accommodating of my slight tardiness. My son was even fairly understanding. All things being equal, it was a “good” voting experience.
But, I wonder, so what if it wasn’t? What if it was a five-hour wait? What if we got shot at on our way to the polls? What if we had to walk the five proverbial miles uphill in the snow? Register our votes with a quill pen? Written in our own blood? What then? Would we still stand in line for a warm fuzzy patriotic feeling and a sticker? Or would we let someone else do it for us?
I know the answer to that question for the four people in this room with me right now. But for all of the “historic election” noise that we’re hearing, I wonder what the average American’s tolerance for inconvenience would be?
And please, for the love of God, please don’t tell me that you only voted just to get the free cup of coffee…
All day at work, folks asked me if I’d voted yet. No, I have to be on the job at 6:30AM. A lot of people voted early this year. It’s a new, convenience.
I had to wait till after 3:30PM, where I vote in a, Methodist Church. Two years ago, it was in a junior high school, caddy corner to the church. Voting in the school just made more sense. I’m sure the church folk, prefer it too. Who knows, why they changed, precinct locations.
They have the machines set up in a carpeted gym with basketball court, hoops set at 8 feet. You could play hoop, barefoot. It’s not their sanctuary, either. Thank, God.
Anyway, a slightly well dressed, lady who was in line with me, scolded the voting machine, attendant for leaving, two machines without voters to get people on them so she could get home for dinner. At one point, the chivilrous side of me, thought of letting, her cut in front of me. I was glad to go in front of her after her, rudeness. She obviously was pretipped off about long, lines. About ten people in front of me, a lady’s, baby coach made the line seem longer, the whole process took about 20 minutes. This made me a “Twenty Minuteman”. I was sure to liberate, a cookie on my way out. Thank you, volunteers.
Remember, in Cuba, it’s against the law not to vote and they usually have only one candidate and political party. Our way is better, yes? Yay, Article 1.