I voted and didn’t get a damn sticker
Over the past few years I’ve enjoyed taking my son with me to the voting booth, this however was more intriquing because at age 10 he is more attentive to what is happening around him and being that he is on the Autism Spectrum is pretty damn cool. He reminded that his school in 2012 had picked Mitt Romney and this year they choose Donnie Trump (yeah he calls him that because of me) and proceeded to tell me how he feels about this election.
I’m not one to bloviate to whom I voted for, that’s for me and I have to live with that choice for the next 4 years. But I will contest I have never in my years of voting never votes straight ticket and never will. The only issue today was ConJay’s cheerleading with each choice I marked.
As ConJay and I walked into the local elementary school to vote I could see the anxiety in his face as we entered the hallway and his first response was “Where the bake sale dad? There’s always a bake sale and campaign posters everywhere” Yes he was correct gone were the tables of parents and children selling bake goods in the hallway, lights were dimmed and the absence of any political posters made for a very subdued feeling as if we just walked into a dungeon.
I handed my voter registration card and driver license to one lady who acted in shock that I had both pieces of ID with me and as she scrolled through the index box looking for my info I scanned the room and counted a total of five poll workers doing their due diligence in being non-partisan while helping each voter. With a tug of my arm, I looked down and my son whispered “I hope ‘so-so’ loses.” With a shake of my head, I told ConJay it’s not polite to say such things (more for the reason I didn’t want a verbal confrontation with any soul nearby).
Within seconds a poll female poll worker appeared on my left, learing over my shoulder as my card was pulled from the index box. “Here you are” she exclaimed and began scanning a binder to find my name, verifying the info and write the #111 next to my name. Every election I swear I’m always #111 in line to vote.
I laughed, with information in front of her, she misspelled my name and had to initial the corrections as she handed all my info to the gentleman beside her to verify as well.
Next came the walk with another poll worker to the booth who placed a cartridge in the machine and asked “do you need any help on how to operate the unit?” With a sigh I simply answered “I’m good, if I need help I’ll ask thank you.” Surprisingly the poll worker stood near as I scanned the room again and noticed one poll worker sitting in the corner who seemed as if he’d rather be carving a piece of wood then sitting staring at people.
So it began, and with each selective area from President to Senate to Attorney General to whether it should be mandatory for judges to retire by the age of 75, ConJay either asked about a selection, why that person had no opponent or simply pump his arm in approval of the selection. Again shaking my head, I had to remind him to be calm and collected so he wouldn’t upset anyone. As I looked up, took a deep breath the nearby poll worker smiled at us in approval of respecting others around us.
As we verified our selections ConJay asked if he could pressed the big red “VOTE” button to complete. Of course I allowed him to do so and no one disapproved of the action, then again if they had I would’ve told them to mind their own selections.
As we walked out, ConJay made the bold statement of “Dad I guess they didn’t sell any cookies because both candidates stink right?”
Todd Morgan Kelly