This morning's trip to the polls was a break from the caravan tradition my father and I kept for three years. I've moved to a new ward, so instead of the quiet little Baptist church my polling center was an elementary school across town. Entering buildings intended for children is always a jarring experience if you're never around them. As I approached, I tried to match the school façade before me to the one I'd seen in the distance from the road for so many years; the latter, of course, was very much larger. I followed election signs into a room that, for a kid, would have stretched from wall to wall like a ballroom, only now it was slightly larger than a luxury phone booth. Cramped, two tables. I trolled on up to the table bearing my ward and precinct.
"Last name?" asked one of five dear ladies at the table.
"Ubaldi." I worked to get it out right, as my speech in early morning can be adenoidal, complete with glottal stops.
"Ubaldi..." she said knowingly, nodding. Did I recognize her? Not completely. I recognized that I should have recognized her. I think she recognized me.
"Democrat or Republican?" asked dear lady number two.
"Republican." That one came loud and clear. A certain silence fell on the room. My first expectation, upon entering any public education facility, is that the Grand Old Party is not an association to which the righteous belong. But then, these were dear ladies, not teachers. For all I know, they might have been exhaling in relief that one more youth decided that he didn't need to dedicate his life to fighting the 'grups.
A third dear lady handed me my ballot, and a-punching I went. I hit 'em all, even the judges running unopposed, knocking down a couple of frivolous county levies in the process. Finished, I removed the ballot from the punch sleeve to double-check for accuracy and loose chads - something I've done since my first non-absentee vote on November 7, 2000, before it became incumbent upon Broward County, Florida to do the thinking for voters. Inside the privacy slip went the ballot, which I handed off to a fourth dear lady, who dropped it down through the slot of a locked bin. Mutual thank-yous.
Nearly out the door, I stopped, turned, dodged a few voters, remembering something. I looked at the second table, closer to the door and closer to me. From the door, I tried to catch the attention of a young poll worker turned to adjust a booth, no older than high school age. Timid, she did a double-take, then gave me a curious look, then blushed, then looked at the floor. Then she sat down. No luck. I moved close to the table and turned to the oldest dear lady.
"Excuse me - this is going to sound a little silly, but would you happen to have any of those 'I Voted Today!' stickers?" A little silly?
"Oh, " she laughed, "no! No. We don't happen to have any of those. I'm sorry."
"That's a shame," I smiled. "That's the best part." Of course, the adhesive never holds on those damned things. By lunchtime, you've picked yours up off from somewhere on the floor at least ten times. But that's part of the fun of wearing civic advocacy on your sleeve - fun not to be had today. I turned and walked to the door, thanking her over my shoulder, and stepped out.
I had only a few seconds to regard my failed public appeal for voting stickers before an older man walked out of the room just behind me and called my name. He must have been working the polls, too - and I must have missed him. He's one of our boys, a local Republican. We had a brief chat about his post on the AFL-CIO board, how it's all a matter of learning to get along down there. Good man. As is the case with more members than I'd care to admit, his duties legitimately keep him away from meetings and greater involvement with us. But he pays his dues, and he followed me out to shake hands and say hello. It was a fine end note for the poll visit.
So with the anecdotes in memory, I wait. Will Ed Herman win the right to challenge Dennis Kucinich for Ohio's 10th Congressional District? Will the Bush campaign finally have a Democrat to knock about? We'll know soon enough. With or without a sticker.