08 November 2016
Story #835
R. Linda:
SOOO . . . voted.
Turnout was light in the rural sticks I inhabit in New Hampshire. This be me first time voting in this little place. There is no common or green. There is no village of little shops and civil war monuments. There is no meeting house or town hall. No, there is a crossroads and at the top is an old colonial house with a sign on one side that says town hall and on the other, library. Next to that is another old colonial house. Across from that is the small elementary school that only goes to grade 5. If you look across the road, there is a church and the town centre, and across from those are two cape homes.
The kiddos had the day off so the town could vote. I don't think more than 250 people live here, so no wonder the turnout seemed low! That's because it was; we are low on population.
Dragon told the wife that where she lives on the Jersey Shore is like a ghost town. Hardly anyone votes. Could it be that they didn't like the choices and simply stayed home?
I heard Manchester had lines. The wait was 15 minutes, but it moved constantly. People were in and out as quickly as they could colour in the dot.
Where I used to live, which actually had a village green, you'd go to the high school (which was usually in session), check-in, get your ballot, and vote in a curtained booth. Then you'd hand the ballot over to one of the two people manning the ballot box, and off you go.
But not today, Berta, not today. Today was entirely a different process. You go to the empty school, and outside, there is one Democratic candidate holding her own sign and one supporter holding another. They greet you sweetly, hope you will vote for her and you have a small chat which warms you to her and her one supporter. Not like me former polling place where you made your way inside between dozens of teenagers who were making fun of the voters and screaming Democrats on one side of the walk and Republicans on the other (seemed like hundreds of these sign toters), and you were glad to get inside to more teenagers and lines to vote. NO, nothing like that this time. I checked in, I got introduced to the polling workers at the tables, I was given my license back with a paper ballot and onward to the voting booth I did go, the eldest child in tow (in this state, you can bring the young one with you). I voted, and as I did I told the eldest kiddo why I was voting for this person and not for that person and down the list I went. We took a pic of him and me ballot (also legal in our state).
As soon as I was done, we went to another table where we were marked off as having voted, and while the marking was being done, we were introduced to the town's selectmen and small chats like, "Oh, you bought so and so's place. How do you like living here?" Then, once the small talk is done, you shuffle to the left and hand your folded ballot to the gent manning the voting box. He smiles and gives you, or, in my case, my kiddo, an I VOTED sticker. Then you have to walk past another table of selectmen and do the same with introductions and small talk about chickens and grumpy neighbours you haven't met yet but live next to. You meet the local policeman (the only one we have) who shows you pictures of his kids and grandkids, but you aren't done yet. You move off into the hallway, where a church lady is taking donations for the town anniversary and Boy Scouts.
R. Linda:
SOOO . . . voted.
Turnout was light in the rural sticks I inhabit in New Hampshire. This be me first time voting in this little place. There is no common or green. There is no village of little shops and civil war monuments. There is no meeting house or town hall. No, there is a crossroads and at the top is an old colonial house with a sign on one side that says town hall and on the other, library. Next to that is another old colonial house. Across from that is the small elementary school that only goes to grade 5. If you look across the road, there is a church and the town centre, and across from those are two cape homes.
The kiddos had the day off so the town could vote. I don't think more than 250 people live here, so no wonder the turnout seemed low! That's because it was; we are low on population.
Dragon told the wife that where she lives on the Jersey Shore is like a ghost town. Hardly anyone votes. Could it be that they didn't like the choices and simply stayed home?
I heard Manchester had lines. The wait was 15 minutes, but it moved constantly. People were in and out as quickly as they could colour in the dot.
Where I used to live, which actually had a village green, you'd go to the high school (which was usually in session), check-in, get your ballot, and vote in a curtained booth. Then you'd hand the ballot over to one of the two people manning the ballot box, and off you go.
But not today, Berta, not today. Today was entirely a different process. You go to the empty school, and outside, there is one Democratic candidate holding her own sign and one supporter holding another. They greet you sweetly, hope you will vote for her and you have a small chat which warms you to her and her one supporter. Not like me former polling place where you made your way inside between dozens of teenagers who were making fun of the voters and screaming Democrats on one side of the walk and Republicans on the other (seemed like hundreds of these sign toters), and you were glad to get inside to more teenagers and lines to vote. NO, nothing like that this time. I checked in, I got introduced to the polling workers at the tables, I was given my license back with a paper ballot and onward to the voting booth I did go, the eldest child in tow (in this state, you can bring the young one with you). I voted, and as I did I told the eldest kiddo why I was voting for this person and not for that person and down the list I went. We took a pic of him and me ballot (also legal in our state).
As soon as I was done, we went to another table where we were marked off as having voted, and while the marking was being done, we were introduced to the town's selectmen and small chats like, "Oh, you bought so and so's place. How do you like living here?" Then, once the small talk is done, you shuffle to the left and hand your folded ballot to the gent manning the voting box. He smiles and gives you, or, in my case, my kiddo, an I VOTED sticker. Then you have to walk past another table of selectmen and do the same with introductions and small talk about chickens and grumpy neighbours you haven't met yet but live next to. You meet the local policeman (the only one we have) who shows you pictures of his kids and grandkids, but you aren't done yet. You move off into the hallway, where a church lady is taking donations for the town anniversary and Boy Scouts.
More small talk and how wonderful an experience it is for the kiddo here to witness his dad exercising his civic rights, etc. As you finish with that, you try to stroll towards the door where your neighbours you've never met or seen before are stopped to ask if you are going to the town supper next week. And oh, isn't the food fine? They hope to see you there. And then after that, you might make it out the door after you hold it open for a few elderly stragglers who also give you a chat up as they thank you for being doorman and commenting on the young one learning about the voting process. You get out the door and think you are done, but you aren't yet. The woman running for office who wanted your vote is looking at you in anticipation that she hopes you voted for her, and when you say yes, you did, she shakes your hand and thanks you and mentions she'll be dropping by for coffee one day. Oh goody, you think as you get to your car and pile in, heaving a sigh, it's over. But it isn't. As you pull out, you better wave as you go by because everyone is waving at you.
The one drawback was there was no complimentary coffee and baked goods. That would have been perfect for a stroll about the polling booths and chatting with everyone in creation. Actually, popcorn would have been better; it was like being in a reality show and slowly meandering about things like you had all the time in the world. Actually, I kind of liked it; hell, I did like it. Next time, I will bring a box of joe and some doughnuts and stick around a little longer. Maybe by then, I'll have met the grumpy neighbour and have stories to tell about the chickens and the rabbits. I must have met 20 of the 250 residents of me small town and thought they all be fine upstanding New Englanders. But wait -- are they? I've been told New England natives are cold and standoffish, and if you weren't born here, you are an outsider. Now I found that true of me old town, the one with the scenic village green and the huge high school known for its "snobbery." In hindsight, most people living there are not New Englanders; much of the population, 5,000, are out-of-staters. I now live in a town where the snobs wouldn't want to live because there is "nothing" out here. The natives are true natives, kind, friendly, and with no hint of snobbery. I hope no one from the old town discovers me new town because I like it just the way it is -- snob-free and like family. I hope, too, that this election will go smoothly no matter who wins, and we can continue to appreciate one another no matter who we are or where we are from.
Gabe
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
The one drawback was there was no complimentary coffee and baked goods. That would have been perfect for a stroll about the polling booths and chatting with everyone in creation. Actually, popcorn would have been better; it was like being in a reality show and slowly meandering about things like you had all the time in the world. Actually, I kind of liked it; hell, I did like it. Next time, I will bring a box of joe and some doughnuts and stick around a little longer. Maybe by then, I'll have met the grumpy neighbour and have stories to tell about the chickens and the rabbits. I must have met 20 of the 250 residents of me small town and thought they all be fine upstanding New Englanders. But wait -- are they? I've been told New England natives are cold and standoffish, and if you weren't born here, you are an outsider. Now I found that true of me old town, the one with the scenic village green and the huge high school known for its "snobbery." In hindsight, most people living there are not New Englanders; much of the population, 5,000, are out-of-staters. I now live in a town where the snobs wouldn't want to live because there is "nothing" out here. The natives are true natives, kind, friendly, and with no hint of snobbery. I hope no one from the old town discovers me new town because I like it just the way it is -- snob-free and like family. I hope, too, that this election will go smoothly no matter who wins, and we can continue to appreciate one another no matter who we are or where we are from.
Gabe
Copyright © 2016 All rights reserved
So America has a king and a royal family as someone aptly put it (I won't mention names) LOL. Blame it on Nigel, he made Brexit happen and once it did he walked away. Then he went to your country, whispered in Trump's ear and now you have a king. Where is Nigel now? Probably whispering to us Scots we need our independence. Your story is very sweet. The people sound terribly nice in spite of the outcome. I hear NH is one of 30 states threatening sucession? An over reaction or a real necessity?
ReplyDeleteI don't know if you see Denver news, but a lot of bigotry and racism is rearing its ugly head. Be glad you live where you do, a small town sounds nice right about now.
ReplyDeleteThat sucks
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