is a single mama in the city, super-savvy editor, writer, video host and shameless shoe whore.
How the voting really goes
Tuesday, November 7, 2006 
This morning, I packed up the boy, explained that we'd be stopping off to vote before heading to co-op, tucked my cheat sheet in the stroller basket and headed out.
It is warm here but humid and rainy, and no one is in front of the polling place handing out buttons or last-minute flyers, like I remember as a kid. A few of the judges were taking pulls on cigarettes and Dunkin' Donuts. Down in the basement of the Catholic school, four judges stand behind a cluttered table and they don't require my voter registration card or even an ID. They just ask for my signature and that I return the magnetic pen when I am finished marking my vote.
And when I do finish, I opt not to use the privacy screen as I push my ballot into the electric ballot-counter-sucker-upper since Lil E and I are flanked only my the older gentleman who hands me a paper receipt when I am done. After all my rah-rah rallying and my big suffrage speech yesterday, I don't even get a sticker to show Lil E what a good American I am. And I have to admit, I am a little disappointed.
Maybe I like the ritual of voting as much as I like casting the ballot. Maybe I've just never been comfortable being quietly political. If I am going to make my voice heard - with a magnetic pen or poster paint - I guess I want it to be really heard. If I am going to wade through all those judges (why oh why do I always forget to research the judges? It happens every. single. time.), then I guess I want to wear a little USA sticker to show that I actually did take five minutes out of my day to do my civic duty.
We head out and cut across the parking lot, past the campaign signs and recycle bins, toward the other church where co-op is held.
"That was voting," I tell Lil E over the stroller proudly, "How cool was that?"
Taking a moment to shove a piece of Nutrigrain bar in his mouth, he quietly harkens back to the Chicagoans on election days of yore and nodding, says:
"Mommy, I want to go vote again."
Annnnnnd (one more) Chicago scene.
ps. Election junkies - If you've already paged through the paper and seen enough of the red ties and dramatic graphics on your local news, here's an interesting read on why this Election Day is being talked about as the beginning of Year of the Woman 2.0. In the meantime, I'll keep voting until we actually need to refer to one year in our millennium as Year of the Man.
pps. Maybe next election, I'll just order my own sticker (like the one pictured here) so I can just get on with the issues already.
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