random thoughts – Day 1,682 – (Friday) - vote cast

When I was married and living in Tennessee, X2 and I would always vote during the early voting period. We’d choose a Saturday to vote and then after, we'd go out for lunch. It was fun. Even when the voting line was out the door and extended down the sidewalk outside the Montgomery County, TN Election Commission office, it was always a smooth, quick, and orderly process, and we made it a fun day.

This year, I planned to vote on the specifically designated election day, the first Tuesday after the first Monday of November (November 5th). I imagined (and overthought) it would feel ceremonial and special to vote on that specific day. It’s a remote workday for me and would have required a special trip out of the house, which felt less special and appealing the more I thought about it. Taking a small detour to vote on the way downtown to the office is different than leaving the home office to vote and then returning to where I started.

Voted here.

While driving to work this morning, the radio announcer person mentioned that this was the last day of early voting in Massachusetts. As I walked down the block to the building where I work, I could see historic, stately, beautiful City Hall and the “Vote Here” sign out front. 

At my desk, I decided to vote today and the Friday City Hall operating hours were confirmed (8 am to noon). Why not? I knew who I was voting for in the various offices on the ballot and there is very little that could happen between now and Tuesday that would change my mind. The ballot questions in the voter info booklet that arrived at the house weeks ago had been read, along with the favoring and opposing positions to each and multiple Reddit threads and Facebook posts that solicited the opinions of those who would be affected (tipped workers, ride-share drivers, educators).

Calm canal water.

Once the decision was made, I trotted down the four flights of stairs and bounced out the door, headed to City Hall with its stained glass windows, beautiful woodwork, and stone floors and stairways. Merrimack Street was crossed without suffering injury or death by rowdy young bicycle riders or inattentive drivers. The water in the canal was as calm as my mood as it reflected the autumnal leaves on trees in Lucy Larcom Park. The sky was pale blue-gray with white clouds. The air was warm and in the high 60s.

Signs inside City Hall directed voters to take the elevator to the second floor and I obeyed, even though ordinarily I would have taken the wide stone staircase. I was greeted in the Mayor’s Reception Room and offered the choice of providing the first three letters of my last name or scanning my license to check in. I scanned my license because it required less conversation. The number “388” was called out. I was given a sharp-tipped felt black pen and instructions for the three-page ballot (front and back) and the yellow envelope and thanked for voting. It took longer to wait for the drivers to stop to let me cross Merrimack Street than it took to check in at the voting table. Sweet!

The ballot was so long because it was printed in English, Spanish, and Cambodian languages. I filled in the circles, refolded the completed ballot, and slid it into the envelop with a label with my name and “388” on it. I sealed it, dropped it into the large black collection box, and exchanged the felt-tipped pen for an “I Voted” sticker. I was again thanked for voting, and I was on my way. I wish I had asked what the 388 meant. Was I the 388th person in all of the early voting that started October 19? That seems like a low number. I dashed out the door and back to the office. 

The whole thing was quick, easy, and even after helping a lady with a cane get though our main door, vestibule door, and branch lobby door, I was back at my desk 17 minutes after I had left it. It would have taken at least that long on Tuesday to drive to the very unglamorous school building with the name I can't pronounce that is my polling location and find a parking space in the mostly residential neighborhood of one-way streets, resident sticker restricted on-street parking, and always full school parking lot. 

To congratulate myself on the completion of my civic right and duty in a beautiful and historic setting, efficient use of time, and avoidance of future parking annoyances, I celebrated with a piece of the office birthday cake left from Wednesday. Now, I just need to drown out the rest of the so-called news of what has felt like a 100-year political news cycle and wait for the results. Someone on Facebook recently commented that waiting for the election results would be like waiting to learn if the biopsy is benign. Sounds about right.