The Intoxication of Voting
The family decided to vote in force at 7 am this morning, so that those of us who have jobs to see to (Dad, Mike, and Nate) could get to them on time. I rolled out of bed at 6:30 am, silently wishing that I didn't belong to quite such an enthusiastic surname.
The apathy didn't last. Mom, Dad, Mike, Nate, Sarah, and I all went to stand in the brisk November air at the Historic Agricultural Farm Park, surely the most beautiful place on earth to stand in a line. We compared ballots and cheat sheets, got last-minute tips about lesser candidates (the issue of President and Member of Senate having long since been decided), and generally enjoyed one another.
"What's your name, please?" The elderly gentleman asked me, and I answered up confidently, adding, "you may want to just pull out the whole sheaf. There are a bunch of us here." Who could help feeling confident, even at their first time voting, with five family members for moral support?
I got to the little suitcase-booth, and the gentleman took my card. "You've done this before, of course..." he began. I shook my head. "No?" He peered at me for a moment. "No, of course. This is your first time." I don't know what he saw in my face, but his manner became even more kindly.
We strayed back out into the sunshine, divided into three seperate cars, and went respectively to home or job. I tiptoed back into the bedroom at 7:45 am, and Marjorie, my darling 13-year-old sister, asked sleepily as I kissed her good morning, "did you vote for Bush?"
"Yes, sweetheart," I said.
The apathy didn't last. Mom, Dad, Mike, Nate, Sarah, and I all went to stand in the brisk November air at the Historic Agricultural Farm Park, surely the most beautiful place on earth to stand in a line. We compared ballots and cheat sheets, got last-minute tips about lesser candidates (the issue of President and Member of Senate having long since been decided), and generally enjoyed one another.
"What's your name, please?" The elderly gentleman asked me, and I answered up confidently, adding, "you may want to just pull out the whole sheaf. There are a bunch of us here." Who could help feeling confident, even at their first time voting, with five family members for moral support?
I got to the little suitcase-booth, and the gentleman took my card. "You've done this before, of course..." he began. I shook my head. "No?" He peered at me for a moment. "No, of course. This is your first time." I don't know what he saw in my face, but his manner became even more kindly.
We strayed back out into the sunshine, divided into three seperate cars, and went respectively to home or job. I tiptoed back into the bedroom at 7:45 am, and Marjorie, my darling 13-year-old sister, asked sleepily as I kissed her good morning, "did you vote for Bush?"
"Yes, sweetheart," I said.
posted by Praelucor at 9:05 AM
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