Final car leaves the lot as the polls close in precinct 405, ironically Happy Hills.
I stayed inside the polling place till the last of the 249 votes was counted in precinct 405. Then I went home to watch what I had not thought thinkable as the other many millions of votes were counted. This is probably one of the cleanest elections in our history, which only magnifies the irony.
I’ve been confused about my country since Reagan. And tonight more than ever. So feel free to ignore and discount anything I say about politics in my country ever again.
My read: gender, race, fear and price of eggs. Kamala was a great candidate, but if she were a guy or a white woman…..and we had talked more about eggs.
I can’t give any big strategic guidance about the next four years. We (the planet) really don’t have four years to waste on important things, which now we probably will. And the mud isn’t even dry from Helene. Clearly, those of us speaking of “vital conditions,” public health, or climate have failed to communicate well enough to overcome….gender, race and the price of eggs.
New world, so I’m going to listen carefully to those with whom I disagree so profoundly. Obviously, I’m missing something I need to hear of anger and frustration. I am pretty sure Trump and his Senate will fail to give any real balm to what drives that anger, so it is crucial we listen carefully. And I’ll listen to those who have been deeply disappointed by their nations–Germans, South Africans. This is a crucial time to listen to the pain that would make such a man votable.
In the meantime, I feel like we (at least me) have let down my daughters and grandsons.
But we’re not dead, yet. And we can’t give up on their world.
There is great value in simply doing the right thing even if 2% more than half see it differently, Live by facts, follow basic science, show decency for the poor. These may be minority positions but not by much. We need more Bonhoeffer than Rauschenbusch; Francis more than one of the random Popes with the fancy hats. But some humiility might help, too.
Dawn breaks as the polling opens on Halloween. It was not scary.
I only saw four early voting sites out of the 8,616 open around the nation, now paused until the other 108,374 open Tuesday. But it was real and more Norman Rockwell than Guernica (but don’t forget that is happening in Gaza and the Ukraine, Sudan and and and and). I was a greeter at one historic black church that was one of our vaccination sites, home to events honoring Dr. John Hatch and the anchor of a 300 unit model redevelopment across the street. No wonder people would vote there. And then I served as an inside official democrat observer in three other sites, two rec centers and a library.
As an observer I was trained on very basic election processes so I could be the eyes for a sophisticated quality assurance team of lawyers, just in case anyone has trouble voting who is qualified to do so. There’s an app for that, of course, on which I can report anything I have questions about. I never needed it. There’s WhatsApp channel from the party headquarters that coordinates all the volunteer greeters while also keeping track of the few aggressive wingnuts in big SUV’s people (very few; we all came to know Dave on sight).
I sat next to a jovial republican observer who brought a bowl of candy to set by the ballot machine and reminded me of my dad. We both watched one of the rare technical problems involving an elderly white man from a rural county just north of ours. The elections judge was likely a sorority sister of Ms. Harris. She calmly spent more than a half hour on calls to Raleigh to find his registration before he ended up with a provisional ballot. He almost certainly cancelled out her vote, just as did my republican observer did mine. But these wrinkles were rare, only 299 provisional ballots cast across the county—about a third of a percent. But this is what you-know-who will be shouting about.
Every now and then a first-time voter appeared, registered and voted (6,002 of them so far). Everyone applauded.
There was slightly more action in the library where TC usually goes to get her books. I shared some Trader Joe’s energy bars with the woman who was observing for the other side as we chatted about mutual church friends. On the outside Dave (or one of his buddies) had placed a sign in Spanish warning Hispanics they could be deported for voting. There are two versions of this sign, one more intimidating that the Board of Elections ruled illegal. This was barely legal, so we flanked it with Harris signs. Our Spanish-speaking greeters used it as a motivational prop.
My other site was a rec center than shares a parking lot with one of the tiny churches my hospital FaithHealth program worked with for years. My republican observer was a heating/air contractor as was our outside observer so they had a great conversation in the early Halloween morning sun. The 10-person team running the polls had done it all many times and took pride in making friendly eye contact with every voter of every type. They all had on Halloween garb. Every child was escorted to the room next door to pick out candy while their mom voted.
I saw America vote. Mostly women and lots of minorities. Work boots, bedroom slippers, tassel loafers and flip flops. Just over 155,000 other people—68% of those eligible with election day still waiting. Whatever happens after that will not be the fault of the people running the election process.
And it won’t be the fault of the Democrat party which has a run the first well-organized campaign I’ve ever witnessed. Winston Salem is in North Carolina, so we’ve already had Tim Walz and Bill Clinton, with Jill Biden coming to canvas tomorrow. William Barber speaks tonight. A billion excellent billboards and inescapable social media that is somehow not annoying (unlike the ten billion text messages). I see more volunteers doing actually useful things than I’ve ever seen. And so many yard signs that our homeowners association had to remind us in their grumpy schoolmarm voice to keep them off shared spaces. Kamala has spent her billion+ wisely while Donald and Elon have paid lawyers and grifters. It matters.
What will happen next? I don’t know. I see through blue tinted lenses. I expect Kamala to carry North Carolina—thank you Mark Robinson, Black women and the blue ground game. She’ll be President facing the worst job in the history of the species. Do you have any clue about how to handle the climate, Russia, China, North Korea, Israel, Iran, Ukraine, immigration and and and and?
That’s the sign attempting to scare Spanish-speaking voters. Kinda weak, really.
We’ll see negligible violence as the bullies go back to wherever they hangout. Few of them will want to take a last hurrah bullet for an aged loser. He’ll be old news by the time the maples bloom in Asheville. It is easy to enjoy the suffering of the “republicans” who have run my dad’s party off into the swamp. But, if I’m right about President Harris, we will owe a great deal to the loyal opposition of Liz C., Arnold S. and all the republican women who will never tell their husbands. And the tens of millions of Black women who protect us again.
One basic poll observer job is to take a photo of the opening count.
And you and me? We should be ashamed of what almost will have happened. Time for Micah 6:8. We should walk humbly and love “hesed” –a Hebrew word with no direct English equivalent; the ensemble of strong mercy, kindness, compassion.
Three quarters of Americans are experiencing stomach grinding because of our political dumpster fire. The cure is voting.
Nearly three quarters of Americans are experiencing stomach grinding because of our political dumpster fire. No idea what the other quarter is thinking about.
You’ll experience healing surprises. My favorite: I’ve never seen Democrats this organized. Websites, apps and in-person offices are all cheerfully functioning with logic, energy and friendly hopeful people. I was even able to donate for a yard sign by app. Cool.
TC and I did our first shift as poll greeters at Metropolitan Missionary Baptist Church in East Winston yesterday on the first day of early voting. Perhaps a hundred voters and a few choir members came through, nearly all in cheerful spirit. A pod of sorority sisters from Winston-Salem State University did selfies with the Harris signs (guessing they might have voted for their sorority sister?) Two sheriffs showed up. I thought they were there to protect us, but they went inside to vote (we thanked them for both looking out for us and voting). More than a few veterans, some disabled from their service in one of our wars, came in.
Pleasure to vote for such reasonable people.
A high spirited young couple came by after attending the overflow crowd at the nearby rally where Tim Walz and Bill Clinton cranked it up. They left a bit early to a) vote and b) grab a beer.
Oh, and TC and I voted, too. As I fed my ballot into the machine, I accepted my “I voted” sticker from the poll worker who looked a lot like me. I thanked him for his service and he said he had done it for years and looked forward to helping the process every election as it lifts his spirits.
There was a time when you’d be hanged for each and every one of those steps. After all, it has only been 295,607days since King John signed the Magna Carta on June 15, 1215. I think we’re starting to get the hang of this democracy thing.
