Recollection of being an Election Monitor: November 2020

                                                                                         This one’s for mamá

My final poll observation shift was from 4:00 until 8:00 on election night.  Voters came in fits and spurts with things clearing out about an hour before closing.

     Around 7:15, a large Hispanic gentleman – a bit younger than I – came in accompanying a much older woman. He was supporting her left elbow as they approached the sign-in station. Among the half dozen or so poll workers, one, adept with Spanish, helped the pair and accompanied them to the next station where they received their ballots and then to the booths where the staffer stood back as the man and the elderly woman marked their choices.

     The gentleman was done well before the woman who was struggling with an aspect I couldn’t determine from my vantage point.  Gently, the bi-lingual worker came over and, in concert with the gentleman, ensured that the woman had completed the process as she had wished to.

     Then the three of them crossed the room.  By this time, all the election workers ~ along with a couple of other voters and myself ~ couldn’t help but watch. Near the exit, a slotted, teal colored container served as the ballot box.  The man slipped his in and looked at the woman.  

     She stood clutching her ballot.

     “Aquí es donde pones tu boleta, mamá,” he said, pointing. 

     She continued to pause.  It was clear that something deeply moving, deeply personal was coursing through her. 

     After a few moments, she slowly turned ~ scanning to meet each pair of eyes in the room ~ and haltingly said [in English]: “This is my first time that I vote.” Then she slid her ballot through the slot.

     Mother and son left the polls accompanied by both our applause and our tears.

This November, as I slip my ballot into that sacrosanct box, my thoughts, in part, will be with ‘mamá.’

© 2024

Church of the Open Road Press