I voted, and so should you!
I've lived in Middlesex County for eighteen years, ever since Don and I got married. For every election in my life except the first two when I was in college ('84 and '88), I've voted at Middlesex County College, in the same dingy little room, with the same crusty-looking old poll worker taking my ticket.
And every election day, in those eighteen years, we've been nearly the only people in the place when we voted. Sometimes, maybe as many as five or ten other people. Last time, maybe that many.
Today, at 7:00 in the morning, the line stretched all the way down the hall to the vestibule doorway. I wanted to take a picture with my phone, just to show it: democracy happening. Middlesex County waking up. I wanted to dance and sing America the Beautiful and My Country, 'Tis of Thee and the Star-Spangled Banner.
I waited in line for half an hour - proudly waited in line, actually made some small sacrifice in order to do this important thing, instead of buzzing through it and crossing it off the list and zipping on to the next thing. Even though I didn't need that half hour - or, truth be told, most of the preceding eighteen months - in order to make up my mind, I felt it lent a certain gravity to something that is too easy for us to take lightly.
And on the way into Manhattan, looking out across the misty gold and brown of the northern NJ swamplands at the skyline, I prayed - that this time we will do the wise thing; that this time we will do the right thing; that this time as the Spirit speaks, we will finally listen.
And every election day, in those eighteen years, we've been nearly the only people in the place when we voted. Sometimes, maybe as many as five or ten other people. Last time, maybe that many.
Today, at 7:00 in the morning, the line stretched all the way down the hall to the vestibule doorway. I wanted to take a picture with my phone, just to show it: democracy happening. Middlesex County waking up. I wanted to dance and sing America the Beautiful and My Country, 'Tis of Thee and the Star-Spangled Banner.
I waited in line for half an hour - proudly waited in line, actually made some small sacrifice in order to do this important thing, instead of buzzing through it and crossing it off the list and zipping on to the next thing. Even though I didn't need that half hour - or, truth be told, most of the preceding eighteen months - in order to make up my mind, I felt it lent a certain gravity to something that is too easy for us to take lightly.
And on the way into Manhattan, looking out across the misty gold and brown of the northern NJ swamplands at the skyline, I prayed - that this time we will do the wise thing; that this time we will do the right thing; that this time as the Spirit speaks, we will finally listen.