What I Saw Yesterday at the Polls

 Yesterday, for the first time, I served as an election judge.  It was a humbling experience, such an easy way to serve your community, and I highly recommend it.

Arriving at 6 am, an hour before the polls opened in Minnesota, my fellow judges and I were sworn in:

    I, __________, solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will perform the duties of election judge according to law and the best of my ability and will diligently endeavor to prevent fraud, deceit and abuse in conducting this election. I will perform my duties in a fair and impartial manner and not attempt to create an advantage for my party or for any candidate.

That truly set the tone for the day.

Here's what I saw:

• Some of the election judges were veterans, one having served over twenty years.  Others, like me, were newbies.  We had two student volunteers whose enthusiasm for this democratic process was palpable.  Everyone took their oath very seriously.  They were kind and welcoming to every voter, got particularly excited at the very few children who accompanied their parents to the poll and went out of their way to greet them, giving them a sheet used for demonstrating how to fill out the oval as their personal ballot.
• The lead election judges bent over backwards to ensure that people could vote.  More than a few came to the polls--and for this I give them kudos--with situations they were concerned would prevent them from voting.  Jeanne and Dave would listen very carefully, ask appropriate questions about their circumstances, offer suggestions, call to check on what legally could be done.  No one was turned away, told they just couldn't vote.  No one who wasn't supposed to vote was given a ballot.  They were kind, generous and, to my eyes most importantly, never made anyone feel like they were 'less than' because of their life situations.  It was a honor to observe this.
• 161 people voted between 7 and 7:45 a.m.  People stood in line, masked, socially distanced.  Some took advantage of the the copious gallon sized jugs of hand sanitizer strategically placed around the polling space (a community room in a local church).  In total, 598 voters in this precinct went to the polls, the last one arriving literally at 7:59.  And 60% had voted by mail prior to November 3.
• Voters smiled, said hello, thanked the election judges for what they did.  At one point mid-morning, my assignment was the station where voters slip their ballots into the machine to be counted.  I looked around and saw older people who put their green folder containing their ballot on the seat part of their walkers while navigating toward the counting machine.  A blonde hair girl bounced on her dad's lap while he filled out his ballot, both sides.  Voters were Black, white, Asian, Latinx, all ages.  All in one room.  All exercising their democratic right to vote for the candidate of their choice without coercion, safely.  Some took quite a long time at the vote stand.  A couple asked if they had to vote for every race on the ballot.  Others completed the process, from check in to picking up an I Voted sticker (and a piece of leftover Halloween candy) in less than five minutes.  Adult children accompanied their elderly parents to the poll, one telling me, "He doesn't like to go out but he was pretty firm he was doing this today."
• Lead Judge Jeanne made certain all judges rotated through the various stations: greeter; poll book (still called that although it's a mini-IPad); ballot deliverer (I don't know what else to call it; it's the station where you hand over your receipt indicating you have been identified as a registered voter at the poll book station and in return, you are handed your ballot sequestered in a long green folder); ballot machine supervisor/watcher.  My favorite, if pressed to name one, was the poll book.  After the voter gives you the first three letters of their last name, then the first three letters of their first name, you press Search and, for the main, lo and behold, if they're already registered, their name pops up!  Wonders of modern technology!  Occasionally this simple task proved challenging, as both the voter and election judge were masked and separated by a tall piece of plexiglass, so sounds were muffled.  One man handed me his driver's license before I could ask him anything: "You'll never get it," he laughed.  "Too many consonants."  I had the rare privilege of registering a handful of first time voters, most of whom arrived clutching their driver's license and other documents to prove they were indeed 18.  They were nervous as I entered their data.  When I turned the screen to show one her information so she could verify it, she said, "That's it?  I'm registered?  Cool."  Cool, indeed.
• A couple voters took selfies of themselves with their ballots.  One guy told me he had to take a picture to prove to his girlfriend he had voted.  I reminded him to take a sticker, too.
• The lead judges are continually monitoring data on the various computer screens, backed up with copious slips of paper, to ensure voting counts are correct.  To rectify a perceived discrepancy, they went through garbage cans, got down on the floor to look under furniture, checked the parking lot, counted and recounted until an explanation was arrived at.  All the paper slips representing voters and receipts are double counted throughout the day, again at the end of the evening when the final tallies are made.  It is a thorough, fair, non-partisan process conducted by your fellow citizens who made a decision to represent democracy in a tangible way.  In this respect, you should be proud to be an American.
• Another really good thing is that since I was there from 6 a.m.-9:30 p.m., when the final sealed envelope containing the day's paper documentation of the 2020 election was ready to be taken to Minnetonka City Hall, I wasn't tempted to succumb to listening to the Talking Heads all day.  Last night, when I got home, I watched a little of the election results, turned on a National Geographic special about America's National Parks, went to bed. I'm proud I limited myself to one glass of wine.
• All in all, this will rank right up there with the profound experiences of my life--but then again, in these times of COVID 19, those kinda have a new definition, don't they?

The box containing the ballots.  Marked, sealed, ready for delivery to Minnetonka City Hall.

 

So.  Now.  Today.

From my perspective, it appears that our long national nightmare is far from over.  Sadly, it's potentially shifting into a higher gear.  A little later, I'm going out into the yard, where Minnesota is basking in weather Mother Nature, frankly, owed us after six inches of snow in October.  It's sunny, little wind, and hitting 70.  I'll take the opportunity to mulch over my garden beds with the leaves blanketing the grass--and have a good cry while I'm doing it.

I weep for my grandchildren.  I thought I had worked hard over my 68 years to leave the world a better place, not just for them, but for everyone I came in contact with, trusting there would be a ripple effect, lifting everyone up just a bit higher.

I don't see this as being true.  This is not a nation I want to live in, where we are so vomitingly divided.  

Where a candidate avowing QAnon beliefs can be elected to a state office.

Where voters elect a candidate who died (i.e. a dead man) from COVID.

Where a candidate from a farm state (calling you out, IOWA) who cannot cite the current price of commodities (and who doesn't have the good sense God maybe gave her to ask her staff to supply her with this data) in a debate but is returned to represent farmers in the Senate

And where we may have returned to office a President who, and again, from my eyes, doesn't care whether the people he is sworn to defend and protect die from COVID.  The current and perhaps future administration just wants the virus to go away.  Well, so do we all but not at the expense it will take to get to herd immunity.  The vaccine is not right around the corner; you know those QAnon people who say they don't need to see the video of Hillary drinking the blood of children that Democrats are sex trafficing because, after all, it's on the internet? Okay, I don't need to read the science that REALLY IS ON THE INTERNET to say that the vaccine is not right around the corner.  (So there.)  Earlier this week my sister JoJo postulated that Trump never had the coronavirus.  He such a lying liar, pants on fire, I know you are but what am I, weasel that it got me to thinking she could be right.  He recovered so quickly he could go for a car ride within twenty four hours of hospitalization for a virus that knocks people out for weeks with lingering effects?  And managed to hold as many as five rallies a day?  Does it not give you pause that if the therapeutics the President received acted as a magic, curing elixir, that they are unavailable to the American public--oh, and recall that he promised us we, too, could be as medicated as he was.  Or is his doctor Sean the Sheep (do yourself a favor and watch an episode or two of Sean; you need it today) pumping him full of life-saving meds that only this primping weasel can access?

        An aside about Dr. Sean Conley, Donald Trump's doctor--following his first presser in front of Walter Reed, here's what I imagine the phone call from his nice, Irish Catholic mother to her son sounded like:

        "Sean!  Seanie!"

        "Did you see me on tv, Ma?"

        "Seanie, boyo, you're going straight to hell, lying like that!

        "Ma!  I wasn't lying!"

        "Now for sure you're going to hell, boyo, not only lying to the American public but lying to your sainted mother!  I can't pray hard enough to the Blessed Virgin and all the saints for your soul!  You better get yourself down to the Basilica of the Shrine of the National Cathedral and make a good confession to the good monsignor down there."

 We have SO.  MUCH.  WORK to do.  Even if it turns out Trump doesn't get his fondest wish to remain in the White House, we, the people, have so much work to do.

For now, I'm going out to rake.  And cry.