things of note to me whilst out and about on election day

~ “Hi. Here’s your secret ballot. Uhm …. let’s see ….. all the booths are taken. So just pull up a chair and fill out your ballot.”

Yeah. There were several people sitting in chairs — like a doctor’s waiting room — filling out their ballots. You know, secretly out in the open. On the upside, there was NO wait whatsoever at our polling place to cast your vote secretly out in the open.

~ The tall elderly man, standing on the corner in the rare Southern California rain, with his home-made “Yes on 8” sign. (Yes on 8 means you’re for the traditional definition of marriage.) An hour later, he was still there. Standing still as a statue. He looked like he hadn’t even moved. It was still raining.

~ A group of girls and one guy on another street corner, waving “No on 8” signs to motorists driving by. The guy’s sign said, “2 Girls Kissing Is HOT!” (Yes, because that is germane to the issue.)

~ Starbucks is giving free coffee if you’ve voted today. No, Starbucks is giving free coffee if you just say you’re going to vote. My Beloved went into a Starbucks (whaa???) very early this morning, ordered a coffee, and the girl said, “Are you going to vote today?” MB said yes. “Oh, well, here’s a free one then.” No proof of voting necessary, pippa! No sticker, no nothing! So the point of the policy is what exactly? Basically, the policy really is: “Free Coffee Today Because it’s Election Day and Regardless of Whether You Do Your Civic Duty and Actually Vote, We Will Reward You With a Free Cup of Coffee Because We Don’t Want Anybody to Feel Left Out or For Anyone to Feel We’re Being Unfair or For Anyone to Feel Bad About Themselves if They Haven’t Voted or, God Forbid, For Anyone to Sue Us Because of Our Horrible Discriminatory Business Practices! Room for Cream There, Slappy?”

~ You know, I always cherish my “I Voted” sticker. I frequently leave it on whatever article of clothing I was wearing on election day for as long as I can. When that item goes to the wash, I try to peel the worn sticker off of it in one neat piece so I can save it. It may sound strange, I suppose. It’s just a sticker, Trace. But it doesn’t feel that way to me. I don’t understand people who don’t put the sticker on themselves. I really don’t. It’s a small thing, maybe, but I look for that on election days, for the little sticker on others, for the others who participated and are proud of it, too. And no matter how they may have voted, I feel a kinship with those people. The other sticker people. My heart swells a bit when I see them. Their votes may have been the complete opposite of mine, but I feel almost like I know some small part of them, that I see a tiny sliver of who they are. And maybe I do. Maybe I sense that invisible cord that binds us and holds us all as simply Americans. I pray that it may hold us long and strong.