Election Blues

Several years ago a friend and I went door to door before an upcoming election. We were given a list of people who were registered in our preferred party and were encouraged to make sure they voted. No proselytization. No knocking on doors other than the ones on our computer printout.I never found out if we were successful but we had a lot of fun interacting with people that afternoon and we rewarded ourselves with a meal at a restaurant on our route when we finished. Another year my husband and I volunteered to make phone calls, essentially for the same thing. We were enlisted to answer questions and ask people if they needed rides to the polls. That was fine but wasn’t as much fun. I discovered a lot of people, especially those who sounded elderly, just wanted to talk. Talk about their family. Their medical conditions. Anything and everything. About twenty years ago, my husband and I went to a nearby Grange Hall to cast our votes in person. It was an old faded white country building with well-worn wood floors from years of meetings and wedding receptions. A big wood stove blazed in the corner while local farm women sat in a row at long tables. We signed in next to our names on a printed list of the people registered in our precinct. When that polling place was moved to a nearby elementary school, it just wasn’t the same. Several years ago our state instituted that all voting be done by mail. It’s easy and I believe, dependable and honest, but I miss the old days.

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