I was pleased with myself, awaking at 5:51 AM. I had time to read from
1941 for a few minutes, telling how American Indians sculpted the
grasslands and prairies of the Midwest with fire. I almost blew my
time advantage by searching for my car and house keys, but a search of
the couch turned these up. I had a time delay as I defrosted my wind
shield and passenger windows. I hear the temperature had dropped into
the 20s last night. I am indeed fortunate to drive by a sand lake and a forest with
hundred year old oaks and nesting eagles on the way to my polling
station. I arrived at the polls at 7:20 AM. Walking up the sidewalk, I
nodded and said hello to the man who was departing the school. I
recalled a morning in 1992, when my friend and I encountered each
other at the presidential polls. We were both looking at long commutes
after voting. We were both dressed in trench coats. And we were voting
tickets that would cancel one another out perfectly. I enjoyed
standing in line with him that morning. I stumbled down the hall, looking for the polling room, and a teacher
pointed me to it. Eight people were in line to prove eligibility and
pick up a ballot. Three people were voting, and I could see a
daughter, Vera Bradley purse on the table, watching her parent vote,
who I could not see behind the cardboard voting box. I wanted to
twitter as I awaited, but the poll workers suggested I wait. We were
voting in the art room, and we could enjoy the children's paintings
and the lessons in color theory and listening skills posted on the
walls. I can always use an elementary skill refresher. A beautiful
poster from this year's ArtPrize hung by the color theory poster, the
competition where we can vote with our feet and cell phones. I went to the same polling station I had reported to for primary
voting. But I was worried when the poll worker at the laptop, with
Internet dongle, swiped my driver's license and nothing happened. It's
an old driver's license with probably a damaged magnetic stripe. When
he typed in my last name, the database turned up my registration. The
computer had saved all of us a wait; no call to city hall was
necessary. I probably should read what the League of Women Voters publish before
the polls. I did vote for the politician who always responds to my
emails and always shows up for public discussions of food issues in
Muskegon County. I did vote against a politician whose election party
I will attend this evening. I love irony at parties. I cast votes for
women candidates in the University and Judge ballot section, mostly.
I voted for the county commissioner who always responds to me on
Facebook. I was very careful when voting for my university's board of
regents since I know some of those people. And I voted against the two
university regent candidates with the arrogant billboard that gave
first, middle and last names. Not exactly the common touch, I was
thinking. A little proud of oneself, I thought. The polling place has an antiquated machine that failed during August
primary voting. The heat and humidity had gotten to it. To be honest,
I simply don't trust the machine. A photocopier has an image of how
the paper should go into the machine. The voting machine doesn't.
Bottom first is the only instruction one is given. I saw the machine
increment to 26, but I would prefer a break out by voting section.
Such as, one vote for governor. One vote for County Commissioner. I had asked one poll worker, taping a sign by the door of the polling
room, if she had any "I Voted" stickers. She apologized, but when the
polling team arrived at the elementary this morning, the doors were
locked, and only frantic effort had made the poll open on time. No "I
Voted" stickers were delivered. I like to wear one of these and then
put it into my journal. Today, it was good for a free muffin at
Earthly Needs in downtown Muskegon, MI. I'll roll by their during
lunch and explain the complication. They'll believe me. When I strutted out of the polling room, the principal wished me a
good morning and in the lot, mini-vans were dropping off the children.
I saw one daughter give her mother a very efficient kiss on the cheek
and climb down from her front passenger seat. My dashboard clock read
7:48 AM, giving me only 12 minutes to arrive at work, which I made one
or two minutes late.
1941 for a few minutes, telling how American Indians sculpted the
grasslands and prairies of the Midwest with fire. I almost blew my
time advantage by searching for my car and house keys, but a search of
the couch turned these up. I had a time delay as I defrosted my wind
shield and passenger windows. I hear the temperature had dropped into
the 20s last night. I am indeed fortunate to drive by a sand lake and a forest with
hundred year old oaks and nesting eagles on the way to my polling
station. I arrived at the polls at 7:20 AM. Walking up the sidewalk, I
nodded and said hello to the man who was departing the school. I
recalled a morning in 1992, when my friend and I encountered each
other at the presidential polls. We were both looking at long commutes
after voting. We were both dressed in trench coats. And we were voting
tickets that would cancel one another out perfectly. I enjoyed
standing in line with him that morning. I stumbled down the hall, looking for the polling room, and a teacher
pointed me to it. Eight people were in line to prove eligibility and
pick up a ballot. Three people were voting, and I could see a
daughter, Vera Bradley purse on the table, watching her parent vote,
who I could not see behind the cardboard voting box. I wanted to
twitter as I awaited, but the poll workers suggested I wait. We were
voting in the art room, and we could enjoy the children's paintings
and the lessons in color theory and listening skills posted on the
walls. I can always use an elementary skill refresher. A beautiful
poster from this year's ArtPrize hung by the color theory poster, the
competition where we can vote with our feet and cell phones. I went to the same polling station I had reported to for primary
voting. But I was worried when the poll worker at the laptop, with
Internet dongle, swiped my driver's license and nothing happened. It's
an old driver's license with probably a damaged magnetic stripe. When
he typed in my last name, the database turned up my registration. The
computer had saved all of us a wait; no call to city hall was
necessary. I probably should read what the League of Women Voters publish before
the polls. I did vote for the politician who always responds to my
emails and always shows up for public discussions of food issues in
Muskegon County. I did vote against a politician whose election party
I will attend this evening. I love irony at parties. I cast votes for
women candidates in the University and Judge ballot section, mostly.
I voted for the county commissioner who always responds to me on
Facebook. I was very careful when voting for my university's board of
regents since I know some of those people. And I voted against the two
university regent candidates with the arrogant billboard that gave
first, middle and last names. Not exactly the common touch, I was
thinking. A little proud of oneself, I thought. The polling place has an antiquated machine that failed during August
primary voting. The heat and humidity had gotten to it. To be honest,
I simply don't trust the machine. A photocopier has an image of how
the paper should go into the machine. The voting machine doesn't.
Bottom first is the only instruction one is given. I saw the machine
increment to 26, but I would prefer a break out by voting section.
Such as, one vote for governor. One vote for County Commissioner. I had asked one poll worker, taping a sign by the door of the polling
room, if she had any "I Voted" stickers. She apologized, but when the
polling team arrived at the elementary this morning, the doors were
locked, and only frantic effort had made the poll open on time. No "I
Voted" stickers were delivered. I like to wear one of these and then
put it into my journal. Today, it was good for a free muffin at
Earthly Needs in downtown Muskegon, MI. I'll roll by their during
lunch and explain the complication. They'll believe me. When I strutted out of the polling room, the principal wished me a
good morning and in the lot, mini-vans were dropping off the children.
I saw one daughter give her mother a very efficient kiss on the cheek
and climb down from her front passenger seat. My dashboard clock read
7:48 AM, giving me only 12 minutes to arrive at work, which I made one
or two minutes late.
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