Skip to main content

Sometimes the exercise to vote takes a bit of work

-->
A trail of campaign signs guides the way to the entrance while sounds of last minute reminders of the better candidate ring through the air. There is something magical about voting on Election Day, which is probably why I avoided early voting.  Excitement builds as I walk into the school gym and make my way to the check-in table. Frustration and disenchantment with politics forgotten.

            “Name?”
            “Mandie Robertson-Victor.” I see her flip to the R’s and realize my name is not there. “Maybe it is under Mandie Victor,” I suggested hopefully. I know I was registered. I did it when I got my North Carolina driver’s license.
            “No. There is nothing here.”
            My heart sank. I needed to vote. It was my right. A right that women fought for all those years ago. A right that so many died for. A right that gave me the ability to show my patriotism.
            “You can go over to the HELP table. They have the computers over there. Maybe they can help you out.”

The lady at the HELP table started by keying my name into the computer. Nothing. “Address?” Nothing. “Birth date?” Still nothing. “Are you registered?” I told her the story of how when I got my NC license, they asked if I wanted to register to vote. Of course, I did. Later, when going for my motorcycle license, I was asked again. I told them I should already be registered. When registering my new car, I was asked again. Each time, I told them I was already registered. No one disagreed. Why wasn’t my name in the system?

You have got to be kidding me! I have voted in every Presidential election since I was old enough to vote. Frustration, anger, and regret filled me. I should have checked.

            “You could vote a Provisional ticket. You just need to fill out this form. I need to write a narrative and explain why your vote should count. Your vote will be held aside until November 16th when the reason will be looked at and determined whether or not it counts.”
            “I’ll do it!”
           
            Hope restored, I began filling out the paperwork when it dawned on me, when I got my license, I was in Johnston County. I have since moved to Wake County. I changed my address on my license, wouldn’t that automatically change it on my voter registration? Apparently not.
 
I got my ballot and went to the voting booth special for Provisional ballots. The high of voting gone after being crushed by possibility of not voting, a mix of emotions took over. Proud to be exercising my right to vote. Relief to be getting the opportunity to fill out the ballot. Thankful that the ladies at the HELP table did not send me away. Apprehension about the possibility of my vote not counting.

I folded up my ballot and put it in the special envelope wondering if my vote would end up in a shredder somewhere or have a say in our choice for the next President of the United States.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Aging sucks.....or does it?

Upon first thought, watching a parent age sucks. Unnoticeable at first. A bit of a stoop, some creaking in the knees, whitening of the hair. The doctor’s visits begin, as do the pills One for high blood pressure, another to thin the blood, and a handful of vitamins to top it off. The signs are there, but it is easier to see him as he has always been. My father, a pillar of strength. Until my pillar was knocked off-kilter. A simple surgery and the mortality of my father looked me square in the eye when the drugs took hold of his brain. Amidst his fidgeting and confusion, I realized…AGING SUCKS! And then….enlightenment dawned upon me….AGING IS BEAUTIFUL Wrinkles tell of smiles while silver hair speaks a life of memories. Knees creaky after years of kneeling in prayer, offering up a lap, and climbing up the stairs for one more kiss goodnight. Almost forty-eight years of memories nestled in my heart. Memories of my father. Taking us to church each Sunday Building and fixing ...

The Hardest One Yet

 From the time I began this blog, I made the conscious choice that I would be honest and open in the moment – whatever is going on. For the most part, I have done that.  After struggling about whether to write about this particular challenge (let alone share it), I chose to do the uncomfortable and do both – write and share. “Your certification has not even been processed yet. Probably won’t happen until at least the middle of January.”  I took a deep breath as I heard those words a couple weeks ago and I realized what that meant. Christmas would look very different than originally planned. The retroactive pay that Santa was counting on to make the holiday something special for our family would not be coming. I took a deep breath as I hung up the phone and walked out of my classroom, despair bombarding the hope and excitement of the upcoming holiday. A tornado of thoughts began whirling in my head as I walked to the guidance office. Playing with our budget in my ...

Letting Go

While in Pueblo you were parents of my students, but more importantly, my friends. After all, McClelland is a family. We talked, joked, and confided in each other like sisters do. I left for summer looking forward to the change I would find upon my return. That year instead of excitement, the new school year brought chastisement, accusations, and allegations with no chance to speak. People I thought of as friends chased away my exhilaration. I put a smile on my face, determination in my stride, and met the school year head on - complete with demeaning, inept, and judgmental challenges that came my way. My team one of strength, bravery and courage holding me up with each new blow. As the fall turned into winter, I overcame distrust and welcomed you in again. Smiles, laughter, and honesty filled the year. When it was time for me to move on, you sent me on my way with warm wishes and promises to keep in touch. I said goodbye and began my new adventure. Whispers of your relief abou...