Those who still have unanswered questions can jot them down and research them further.
Those who come to a decision during discussion can mark up their ballot then and there. A peaceful silence settles as we each dig into researching our topic.Īn hour later, everyone reports back with pros and cons of an issue or candidate, and discussion follows. We divide the ballot into sections and each pick one to research. We settle into comfy chairs with our refreshments. The smell of hot cider and pumpkin baked goods wafts through the house. So, this year I propose a new ritual: The Voting Party.Ī week before Election Day, my voting age family members arrive at my house with laptops, voter’s guides, and ballots in hand. Come to think of it, what makes a good county assessor anyway?ħ:35pm – This year’s designated family member (perhaps my sister) jumps in the car and screeches through the neighborhood collecting ballots from the family households.ħ:58pm – The designated family member pulls into the library parking lot, dashes out of the car, and stuffs the ballots into the box as the poll attendant stands with key in hand ready to lock it up for the night. Mom says he is searching for data on the candidates for county assessor. It looks like this:Ħ:30pm – I get home from work, tear open my ballot envelope, and start madly Google searching propositions and candidates on my laptop while my stomach loudly protests, “What about dinner?”Ħ:45pm – My mom calls and asks, “Have you got to the judges yet? What did you find out about judges?!” In the background, I can hear my dad typing franticly. Now that Washington has moved to a mail-in ballot election system, my family ritual is much less fun. I also remember wearing my “I Voted” sticker with pride for the rest of the day. I liked the poky thing on the chain and the sound it made as my mom used it to punch her ballot. I can’t remember how it was decided each election year, but I must have made the cut at least once to accompany mom into the polling booth because I can remember what the inside looked like.
Some years it rained, but that just meant we got to goof off with umbrellas all the way there. My parents would get shoes and coats on all of us, which was quite a feat, as there seemed to be an additional child with every presidential election cycle, and we would walk down the polling station. When I was small, accompanying my parents to the poll was a family ritual. Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window).Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window).Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window).Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window).
0 kommentar(er)
