Date: Sat, 6 Nov 2004 10:44:26 EST
From: HMMeister at aol.com
Reply-To: johnny at charm.net
To: johnny at charm.net
Subject: voting



Dear Digesters,

When I voted for Gore back in '00, I did so only after waiting in line for
one hour and 45 minutes while a few hundreds of Very Busy Important People ahead
and behind me fielded calls on their cell phones from business associates and
baby-sitters, hairdressers and mistresses and accountants, in one of those
fancy modern pale grey enameled metal booths with a curtain for reasons of
privacy, in which I flipped little levers. It was in the cafeteria of Selis Manor
on 23rd Street in NYC, which smells awful and is a home for the blind.

Things, as you know, change.
There are some 426 registered voters here in Cummington, Massachusetts. When
Paula and I pulled up to the white washed wooden Cummington Town Hall
(charmingly, in a neoclassical kinda Greek Revival sense, constructed circa 1830) last
Tuesday afternoon, we were the only voters to be seen. So, we had the entire
plate of home made cookies, baked by the charming old ladies who run the show,
Ruth and Ruth, to ourselves for the few minutes it took. But first, we had to
walk past and admire the calligraphed (in Black Letter hand-- I believe that
German was very nearly chosen as the nation's language at the outset) and
respectfully framed parchment recording the names of the valiant Cummington
fighters who fell in the Revolutionary War. Gives a sense of perspective to the
proceedings, I guess.

And I was handed a tri-folded paper ballot and a blunt #2 pencil, and
directed to the relative privacy of the white washed wood shelf marginally attached
to the wall, where I made a bold and decisive X in the box of the candidates of
my choice. The cookies were pretty good. Oatmeal raisin. But I hear that
Ruth's pie crust is *really* where it's at.

And I place my (tri-folded enpenciled ballot) into the slot on the top of the
golden oak voting box, so Ruth can turn the brass crank on its side, so we
can both listen attentively as the gears tick and tock through their appointed
round while my ballot is drawn into the maw, eventually causing the bell inside
to ding brightly, while I watch the counter on the front turn over from 0387
to 0388.

"What a cool ballot box," I said to Ruth, who replied that it was celebrating
its 100th anniversary in service, this election. So we cast our ballots in
the same box as helped elect TR. Gives a sense of continuity to the proceedings.


At the Creamery, where we stopped to pick up some locally produced milk on
the way home, there was a large sheet of white paper tacked up to the wall by
the door. A pencil hung on a piece of twine along side. At the top it said, "We
have 426 registered voters in Cummington," and directly beneath that someone
had written, "We voted 1st and 2nd," and then there were many penciled and
crossed out lines below. We put a line through the last entry and wrote, "388 and
389."


Howard