She realizes that her mother and father are the only people who got dressed up. Her father is wearing a camel-hair topcoat over his suit. He\u2019s skipped the tie\u2014but she has no doubt it\u2019s in his pocket, just in case. Her mother is wearing a red coat over a pair of nice slacks. That\u2019s what she calls them, \u201cslacks\u201d; it\u2019s always \u201cslacks\u201d unless she\u2019s going riding, and then they are \u201cdungarees.\u201d Neither is dressed in a way that would keep them warm if they had to wait outside. Everyone else is wearing regular clothes: hats, gloves, parkas over long pants. Her own coat bears the symbol of an upscale company on the upper arm. A while ago she put a piece of dark duct tape over it, hoping perhaps that people wouldn\u2019t notice.<\/p>\n
\u201cToday\u2019s the day,\u201d someone says.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe moment is now,\u201d another man adds.<\/p>\n
\u201cPicked out your turkey for Thanksgiving yet?\u201d her father asks one of \u00a0the men. She notices that he\u2019s guiding the small talk away from the events at hand and toward more generic seasonal chat.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, sir,\u201d the man says. \u201cThis year I\u2019m going to visit my brother up by Seattle.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFine man you are.\u201d It\u2019s charming how pleased her father is to be among these men and women.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s beaming; his excitement is palpable. He shakes hands, any hand he can get hold of. \u201cYou have to touch people; you have to look them in the eye and listen to what they have to tell you,\u201d he\u2019s said to her in the past.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t like it but you have to listen. We used to have a word for it\u2014decency.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNice to see you,\u201d her mother says to one of the women. As they move around the room, both her mother and father greet strangers as though they\u2019ve met them before.<\/p>\n
\u201cGood of you to come out,\u201d a man calls out to them.<\/p>\n
When she was younger, going places with her parents used to make her feel special; people paid extra attention; she imagined herself as a princess. When she stops to think about it now, she\u2019s embarrassed.<\/p>\n
Her father moves with a kind of swagger, occupying space in a way that might make you think he is the candidate. But he\u2019s not; he\u2019s the machine that makes it go\u2014the money.<\/p>\n
\u201cBull in a china shop,\u201d her mother once said when she was angry with him, and then she got defensive when Meghan looked shocked. \u201cWell, you don\u2019t get rich being mister nice guy,\u201d her mother said and left it at that.<\/p>\n
\u201cThey\u2019ll be coming,\u201d she hears someone say. \u201cJust before lunch, and then again at the end of the day.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPeople are gonna show up for sure; that\u2019s what they do when they have something to say.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSome folks feel it\u2019s already been said,\u201d another one adds.<\/p>\n
\u201cEither way, it shouldn\u2019t be optional,\u201d one of the men says. \u201cIt should be legally required; if you\u2019re of age, you\u2019re required. That\u2019s just my opinion, but no one gives a hoot what I think.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFolks don\u2019t like to be told what to do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019d think they\u2019d want as many people as possible to participate,\u201d another man says.<\/p>\n
\u201cA little nai\u0308ve,\u201d her father whispers. \u201cIt\u2019s always interesting to hear how common people see it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy do you say \u2018common people\u2019?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n
He looks confused. \u201cWhat should I say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust people?\u201d she says. \u201cWhen you say \u2018common people,\u2019 it sounds like you see yourself as different from everyone else.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI am different,\u201d he says. \u201cI\u2019m rich and proud of it. Common people should be glad to see me and be happy when I buy their products and eat in their restaurants; it\u2019s a sign of approval.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhose approval?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy approval.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd because you\u2019re rich, your approval means more than someone else\u2019s?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you were studying for a test, would you take advice from an A student or a C student?\u201d he asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this a test?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s life,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt makes people feel bad, like they\u2019re less than equal,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s not my job to make people feel equal.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAre teachers less valuable than doctors? They get paid less; but without teachers, you wouldn\u2019t have doctors,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen I hear the word common, I hear Aaron Copeland\u2019s \u2018Fanfare for \u00a0Common Man,\u2019\u201d her mother says. \u201cI attended a performance in New York years ago when you were just a baby.\u201d Her mother pauses. \u201cWhat\u2019s nice about a place like this is that people are neighborly; they help out.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the same folks who do everything from organizing the parades to the potlucks. They\u2019re the doers,\u201d her father says as they move closer to the check-in table. \u201cDid you know that if you\u2019re sixteen you can be an election judge? All it takes is being a bona fide county resident, mentally competent, and four days of training before the event. A little pecker-schmecker who can\u2019t even tie his shoelaces gets to count things up and call it in. And they get paid; in a town that\u2019s not brimming with employment for children, it\u2019s not a bad deal.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then it is their turn. Her parents step up and sign the book. You can see their signatures where they signed the last time\u2014she finds it curious that a person\u2019s signature doesn\u2019t change over the years.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this your first time, Meghan?\u201d the woman asks, as she inscribes her name in the book.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know how it works?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIn theory,\u201d she says. \u201cBut I do have a question.\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman nods.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you know why it\u2019s on a Tuesday?\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman smiles. \u201cI asked my husband the same thing last night.<\/p>\n
He had no idea, so I looked it up. It turns out the founding fathers had something in mind; by November, the fall harvest was done but the weather was still mild enough for travel. And because folks used to have to travel in order to take part, they couldn\u2019t do it on a Monday because people wouldn\u2019t travel on the Sabbath, and it couldn\u2019t be November first because that\u2019s All Saints\u2019 Day, and some people care about that and so on.\u201d She pauses. There\u2019s a line forming behind Meghan. \u201cAnyway, that\u2019s what I learned\u2014do you know how this next part works?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot really.\u201d<\/p>\n
The woman hands Meghan a paper form. \u201cYou take this and go on over to one of those booths, make your selections, and then fold it over and bring the paperwork back over there and drop it in the sealed box. Easy-peasy.\u201d<\/p>\n
The booths are mini stalls with cardboard side screens like blinders you\u2019d put up to keep a kid from cheating on a test or keep people from peeping over their neighbor\u2019s shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat simple?\u201d Meghan asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s the way we do it,\u201d the woman says.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow will they know who wins?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTonight, after we close up, a few of us stay behind, open the boxes, and count \u2019em up.\u201d<\/p>\n
Is that what the sixteen-year-old does? Meghan wonders. \u201cAnd then \u00a0what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe get on the phone and call the number in; when my granddad was a kid, they sent the number via wire\u2014like an SOS to the state capitol.\u201d She\u2019s surprised at how rudimentary it seems, rinky-dink. She\u2019s not sure what she imagined, but it was definitely something more substantive, professional, modern, maybe a big machine with lights, bells, whistles, the kind of thing they have in arcades. She imagines matching the picture of the person you\u2019re supporting with their name, pushing the button, and then a lot of lights go off and simultaneously it registers on some great scorecard in the sky. Score one for the red team!<\/p>\n
This, the paper form, the cardboard blinders, is beyond banal. All over the country people are doing the exact same thing? And by late tonight there will be a new order in the land? It\u2019s more like an activity you\u2019d do at a school to pick the new head of the class.<\/p>\n
She looks over and sees her parents carefully pushing their forms into the sealed box.<\/p>\n
Her father smiles at her\u2014he\u2019s passing the torch. His deep pleasure in this process reminds her of all the things they\u2019ve talked about over the years\u2014all the car trips and vacations they\u2019ve taken to historical sites. This is the passion he shares. He doesn\u2019t talk about himself or his childhood. He talks about historical figures, battles, wars, treaties, and the three branches of government. She\u2019s been brought home to vote\u2014to go on this electoral journey as a kind of indoctrination.<\/p>\n
She ducks into her booth, fills out the form, folds as directed, then hurries over and stuffs it into the box.<\/p>\n
On the way out, there\u2019s a table set up with an enormous industrial-size coffee urn, glass bottles of milk, and a box of fresh glazed donuts, still shining while the sugar dries.<\/p>\n
She picks up a donut. Her mother sees her do it and looks horrified. It\u2019s hard to know if it\u2019s the calories, the idea of a donut for breakfast, or the fact that it\u2019s been sitting out and possibly touched by others. She\u2019s caught, donut pinched between her thumb and middle finger. The glaze begins to melt. She squeezes, denting the dough. As she\u2019s holding the donut, unsure what to do, her father leans over and takes a bite.<\/p>\n
\u201cBest damn donut I ever had,\u201d he says. \u201cThat had to be made within the last hour; I can taste it; the yeast is still rising.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her mother reaches over, plucks the donut from between Meghan\u2019s fingers, and drops it into a trash can. The expression on her mother\u2019s face is one of enormous satisfaction\u2014like she\u2019s put out a fire. Meghan is left with sticky fingers. She puts her hand in her pocket and thinks about when she might be able to sneak a lick.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, that\u2019s all she wrote,\u201d Sonny says, as they\u2019re back in the car. \u201cOur duty is done,\u201d her father says.<\/p>\n
They drive straight from the church to the airport. Sonny smokes with the window down\u2014the smoke catches the air and blows into the back seat. Meghan can see her mother take a deep breath.<\/p>\n
As soon as they\u2019re on the plane, her father turns to her and asks, \u201cSo, what did it feel like?\u201d<\/p>\n
She can\u2019t tell her father what she\u2019s really thinking; it reminds her of another first\u2014her virginity and how losing that was also less spectacular than it was supposed to be.<\/p>\n
She can\u2019t tell him that she finds the whole thing so basic that it is causing her a new kind of anxiety, the deep existential ache that nothing is as previously represented; nothing in reality is as good as the idea she\u2019s been sold. She can\u2019t tell him any of it because she knows it would break his heart.<\/p>\n
Luckily, before she can say much, he continues. \u201cBack in Connecticut we used to vote on a device that was gunmetal gray. You went in, pulled a little half curtain around you like in a photo booth, and then you\u2019d toggle the switches up or down depending on which man you were for. When you were done, you\u2019d pull an enormous lever with a black handle to register your vote. Every time I threw that lever to the right, I felt like I was doing something major, starting up a time machine or launching an atomic bomb, I was never sure which.\u201d He pauses. \u201cI\u2019m so proud of you. Getting yourself out here to cast your ballot with us means a lot.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThanks,\u201d Meghan says. \u201cIt meant a lot to me, too, we\u2019re making history one day at a time. I cast my vote in honor of all those who have come before me and with an eye to the future ahead.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs that a line from a poem?\u201d her mother asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, I just made it up,\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n
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