Election Day 2016

Jocelyn, my daughter, and I voted together this morning. She was living with me during high school and registered at my address, so when she turned eighteen we voted for Al Gore. She soon moved out and onward, but we maintained the fiction with the Board of Elections. Every four years we would trundle off to the polling place. Our custom has been to cast our ballots in the evening, then go eat pizza at Lombardi’s like good citizens. This year, however, we were up a dawn’s very crack today due to ‘circumstances’. We met at the polls, filled in our ballots, and eschewed the ‘I Voted’ sticker. We had time for coffee and a wretched cinnamon bun.

We always recount the story how I used to be listed on the voter rolls as ‘Robert Handstand’. This was (and still is) a source of much crypto-fraudulent giddiness. Nevertheless, fear of somehow getting found out and having my vote denied caused me to fess up in ’08. Hence, the righteous election of Barack Hussein Obama

Here are The Further Crypto-Fraudulent Electoral Adventures of Robert Handstand.

My mother lives in Ridgewood, New Jersey in the house my parents built when I was seven. She is ninety-six years old, born six months after the 19th Amendment was ratified.

I visit her every two weeks, cook burgers and some vegetable medley, then we eat chocolate chip mint ice cream and watch Jeopardy. When Wheel comes on, I vamoose. I showed up tonight, burgers in-hand. I had promised to take her to vote, but she forgot. “Where’s your polling place, Mom?” “Willard School,” she replied, like I was an idiot that by all accounts I am. “I’ll take you,” I said. She held onto my arm and we wobbled to the rentacar.

Willard was my elementary school. I hadn’t been inside in fifty-five years. Mom signed the voter roll and together we entered the booth. “Who do you want to vote for?” I asked. “Hillary,” she said, “Where is the box?” Displayed before us was sort of a touch-screen panel thing, similar to but oh-so different from the old booths with all those little levers and the great big one that went ‘ka-thunk’ so satisfyingly. I pushed the Hillary button. “Now what?” said Mom. “Down here,” and I pointed to the ‘Cast Vote’ button glowing there in the right hand corner. She pressed that one. And we wobbled back to the car.

This may very well be her last presidential election.

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