I live in the country, and so the polls are set up at this little one-room schoolhouse we've restored, old lights, chalkboards, Palmer system cursive letters above them on green placards. It's November, so there'll be a fire in the wood stove in the corner, and the place will smell great. When I step inside the wood floors will creak under my boots and for just one brief second I truly understand the thing. I could be in the 18th century with Hamilton shouting at Jefferson outside, or Jackson's people illegally tapping a barrel of whiskey.
The desks are ringed, with The Oldest Ladies In The World checking ID and distributing ballots. I vote, I return the ballot, the lady slides it into the box and one of them announces in stentorian tones, "[Insert real name] Has Voted!"
Home and chores, and come 1700 my time, the polls back East are closing, and I log into FR and ride the evening out. Win or lose, the champagne will be opened, not to celebrate a victory, but to celebrate the freedom that lets me do this. That, my FRiends, really is worth defending, and if necessary, dying for.
LOL at the truth of that, same here in this little wide spot, but a big bravo for your post, especially re those who gave everything for this privilege.
All the more to boil my hatred for the cheating thieving subversive bastards trying to game the vote.
Your description was lovely, I was right there!
Thank you for sharing and your words ring true.
Bravo!
Pure 24 carat gold Bill.
It deserves a broader distribution but just now can’t think of a worthy outlet.
You’re getting a standing ovation here in the east.