November 3 – “Purple hair lady”

We went to vote yesterday.  First Chris had to make a stop by the Post Office to certified mail what we hope is the last piece of her responsibility in regards to her mother’s estate.  It has been literally years in the making, but I think she might finally be free of the whole matter.  She does still need one more bit of evidence of receipt before we can breathe freely again, but I think the light at the end of the tunnel is firmly in her grasp.

So after the Post Office we headed over to the nearest early voting place.  It was at the big church here on the Island (Moody Methodist), and as we drove up there were quite a few cars in the parking lot.  Not a good sign for an old geezer who doesn’t particularly like to wait in long lines.  Besides, I forgot to bring my cane that makes into a little chair.  Chris wasn’t able to make the turn into that lot, though.  Seems the lady in the car behind us was driving on the newly printed bicycle trail, blocking our attempt to turn.  As it turned out, the first parking lot was not where the polling site was anyway.  Chris slickly made her way to the next lot, where all the voting signs were placed.  Looked like she meant to do it that way all along.  There weren’t quite as many cars in this lot, so we were a little encouraged. 

As we entered the building, a few ladies exited, proudly wearing their “I voted” stickers.  Couldn’t wait to get my very own.  We followed the signs up to the polling room door.  The few chairs out in the hall were empty, and we were pleasantly greeted by a young lady.  She directed us to the open doorway, saying, One of you can go to that gentleman right there.  The other will have to wait just a moment for another spot to open up.”  Being the gentleman I am, I let Chris push ahead of me.  It didn’t take but another second or two before she nodded to me and said, “You can go on over to the lady with the purple hair.”  Yep.  Purple Hair Lady. 

Purple Hair Lady was very nice.  In fact she recognized my name right away.  She and her family have been out to Seaside to sing before.  She didn’t recognize my beard, though.  Wanted to know “are the whiskers a new development?”  I assured her that there had, indeed been a time when the whiskers had not played such a prominent role in my self-identity.  I reminisced about that time way back when I was twelve or so (or was that 20 or so?).  I only dreamed of such a fabulous flow of chin-decorating whiteness.  In any event, she approved my request to vote and handed over my ticket number, warning my in a conspiratorial whisper, “Don’t forget to make sure and check your ballot before you push the ‘Vote’ button.” 

Armed with my ticket and that dire bit of cautionary advice, I made my way into a voting booth.  Right next to the one Chris had chosen.  Choosing my candidates proved quite easy.  Twirling that little circle around and pushing a button is just old-school enough to be fairly stress-free.  We exited our booths at about the same time and headed for the door.  And at the door we were greeted by that same smiling young lady who had welcomed us minutes earlier.  This time, however, she was ready with the absolute highlight of my voting experience … a sticker.  A sticker that I could wear to tell the world that I had voted.  Why, it such an exciting moment that Chris stopped at WalMart just so we could walk around and let people see it.  Well, while we were there, Chris just happened to need something for a sewing project she’s working on, so we killed two birds with one stone.  No one commented on my sticker, though.  Maybe they should make them bigger.  Oh, well, they have four years to consider that suggestion.

Galatians 6:6 says, “Anyone who receives instruction in the word must share all good things with his instructor.”

Father, be with our country.  No, more than that.  Would you please invade our country?  Amen.