Today We Have Our Say

by

I love voting day.

After months of boasts and promises, mud-slinging and baby smooching, pundits and polls (and polls and polls), it all boils down to one very intimate action, humanity’s simplest idea and yet grandest achievement: one person, one vote.

Like a child at Christmas, I wake up early, excited on election day. I double-check my supplies (newspaper, coffee, gum, phone, etc., etc.) and head over to St. Anthony’s whose cavernous basement serves as my local polling station. It’s a rather nondescript hall that hosts bingo and seasonal social nights. Judging by the rough crowd that loiters, smoking, on the steps one night each week, I’d guess it hosts substance abuse meetings as well.

On election day though, it has this offical air about it. It’s not the slightly confused elderly volunteers, who seem to know someone in every apartment building (and invariably it’s someone named “Frankie”) as well as the floorplans for each (“Oh, you’re in the back, one of the smaller apartments, pity…you should see the larger ones up front where my great Aunt Florence has lived since 1954, she’s still only paying $450 a month, you know”). It’s not the gold-frilled flag hanging behind the bare stage (which might only have 48 stars on it…I’ll have to count next time). It’s certainly not the pre-caffinated New Yorkers, some in business attire, others in what passes in our house for pajamas, insisting that they are on the register, if only the volunteer would check again, or juggling their lattes, palm pilots, WSJ, and distressed-leather attache cases. It’s not the sense that utter traffic chaos is only one-double-stroller-meets-one-excited-terrier away.

The official air is lent by the ritual. Huffing impatiently or barely awake, we stand in line, wait our turn, and then one-by-one (seriously…I don’t know why they can’t spring for more than one booth per district here, but…) enter these ancient massive booths, with their heavy gray plastic curtains and giant levers (like something out of a Fritz Lang movie, I swear) and we choose.

We choose. We, the people, choose who runs the country, and in many ways the world. It’s a frightening yet remarkable responsibility. When it works as designed, each choice is counted, all of them accumulated and sorted out, resulting in a final decision that, despite how much is at risk, we as a nation accept, peacefully (if not always happily). Across the country, as we pull those levers, punch those chads, or touch those screens, we’re reinforcing the idea that we’re all created equal and each of us is as entitled as everyone else to have his or her say in way things get done. It’s beautiful, and I truly love it.

Here’s hoping tomorrow the lawyers get to work on their golf swings.

14 thoughts on “Today We Have Our Say”

  2. LOL James…
    it took me several minutes (and clicking through to your website) to get the joke…
    by the way, is that you or Tom Cruise in that photo?

  4. LOL James. You did silly walks too 😉 ?
    And oy Edward…. several minutes….. must be the exitement of the day 😉
    I keep my fingers crossed and fear my night will be very very short (6-9 hours ahead).

  5. Edward, don’t feel bad — I didn’t even realize there was a joke there until I saw your comment. I guess I’m not in the habit of considering the signature as potentially part of the message.
    JC, I’m sooooo jealous. Wish I could’ve been there — I would’ve had several good options for silly headgear.

  7. The official air is lent by the ritual. Huffing impatiently or barely awake, we stand in line, wait our turn, and then one-by-one (seriously…I don’t know why they can’t spring for more than one booth per district here, but…) enter these ancient massive booths, with their heavy gray plastic curtains and giant levers (like something out of a Fritz Lang movie, I swear) and we choose.
    Wow, really? Here in Canadaland, we just have a short cardboard screen on a table that we hide behind as we vote. No curtains, no booth, no nuthin’. And we use pencils.
    Low tech, but we rarely need recounts, and I’ve never had to wait in line to vote in my entire life.

  8. I’ve never had to wait in line to vote in my entire life.
    Arghh!
    It’s a test of patience here d-p-u. There’s invariably someone in the line trying to remind everyone why we’re there…how important it is, etc. etc.
    I find it rather inspiring actually…that people care that much, especially in a state like NY where the conclusion is considered foregone.

  9. Voted? Home for the day/night? Here’s something to pass the time while watching the television (needs I.E., alas).
    P.S. I do recommend signing up to the Cleese website – $50 a year, which is obviously less than $1 a week, but he’s going to update it regularly, and there’s already at least one great sketch on.

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