My Mom & Voting

My parents were both huge fans of the democratic process and saw participating in elections as their civic responsibility.  Growing up, I saw voting as one of those thrillingly adult activities, the kind you just.can't.wait to grow into.  I remember standing with my mother in a long, winding line that stretched through my elementary school cafeteria, waiting for our turn.  I was at that size where you can still manage to sort of crawl around your parents, through their legs, climbing up and over them.  That's how I passed the time in line.  She let me come into the voting booth with her.  It felt sacred and important to witness that ritual of adulthood.  This was back when the contraption used to cast your vote included heavy metal levers.  I can't tell you the disappointment I suffered the first time I voted onsite and received only a paper ballot and a pencil.  Fill in the bubble?  Please.    

My mom and I didn't always vote for the same candidates, although she was solidly in the gay marriage camp once she knew I would marry a woman.  But even when we weren't on the same side, she was always happy when my candidate won, because it made me happy.  In retrospect, I imagine we spent several hours on the phone on at least one election night with her solidly rooting for her second favorite candidate.  It blows my mind to this day.  How does one learn that selflessness?  I'm still snickering when I see a Romney-Ryan sticker on a car (losers) and she was doing play-by-play with me for a guy she drove to a school, stood in line, and voted against.  God, I miss her.  I miss the conversation we didn't get to have when Obama was reelected (she voted for him once, she would have voted for him again).  She didn't get to vote for Question 6 and see gay marriage legalized in our home state of Maryland.  In fact, a few weeks before the election I received a card in the mail from the Cecil County Board of Elections asking me to verify that she was gone and could, therefore, be taken off the voter rolls.

Yeah, she's gone.  Thanks for the reminder.