the sacrament of voting

Here in the United States (in case you’ve been living under a rock), it is Election Day. And we’re holding a polarizing presidential election.

Google keeps asking if I want to know where to vote but I keep xing out of the pop-ups. I voted over three weeks ago. I was on vacation one Friday, so I took my son with me to the county board of elections. One other man was just completing his ballot as I proved who I was to the clerk and received my key card to vote.

Philip was the only one watching as I tapped boxes on the screen. Since he is all about pushing buttons to observe cause and effect, I let him submit my completed ballot. It reminded me of the days when my mom took me and my brother with her to the local vocational school to vote. I liked hiding behind the curtain with her as she pushed levers. I couldn’t tell who she was choosing but it was important to know she was making her choice.

One reason I went early this year was to get some privacy. The large, low electronic screens placed next to each other on tables at my local polling place offer no secrecy. Unless you opt to tell me, I don’t want to know for whom you voted. And I don’t what my nosy neighbors to know my choices, either.

While I realize the modern equipment offers accessibility the machines of my childhood did not, I must say I feel nostalgia for those old booths. They are the closest thing to a confessional that a non-Catholic can get. They were a physical reminder of the sacred duty to vote if you have the privilege of doing so.

So, if you want, tell me who you voted for in the comments. As for my choices, that’s between me, my local election board, and my god.

Day 8 of NanoPoblano/NaBloPoMo and I’m joining the yeah write #291 nonfiction writing challenge. 

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