johnvano.com: I'm a Georgia Voter!

My plan worked, though I mildly "freaked" and didn't stick completely to the plan. If I saw the lines at my precinct wrapping around the church, I was to head to Starbucks and kill some time--I didn't, getting in line with everyone else. From previous experience at this precinct, I knew by the length of the line that I had about a two hour wait--and I voted in two hours, six minutes (at 9:42 am). Trouble was, by the time I had voted the line was about one quarter as long as when I arrived. Slap forehead now.

The guy in front of me massaged his Blackberry while in line, and the 62-year-old black woman who arrived just behind me tried to wink her way to the front of the line by alleging to be John McCain's son. We shared a cordial laugh about that one, so she tried it on the Indian/Pakistani woman who joined us next. Some very dedicated poll workers fussed over us, passing out hot chocolate, coffee, water bottles, and offering portable chairs. We were thanked kindly for our patronage.

Near the front of the line, a man walked about with an electronic notebook, assisting anyone who had doubts about their precinct--a little late, we all thought. Why wasn't he at the back of the line? When a guy behind me answered his cell phone he walked off a short distance to take the call. My friend, John McCain's son, mentioned that he needed to tie his shoelaces, to which his wife responded, "He never ties his shoes. Except at work. I try to get him to at least tuck them in, but he won't do it."

I didn't dress appropriately for the weather--electing a short-sleeved polo shirt and shorts for the 55 degrees and sunny weather. I got goosebumps as I read the October 20 issue of The New Yorker. Inside, I read one columnist's assurances that text messaging doesn't signal the end of intelligent discourse and appropriate language, I read a long summary of Emily Post's life, of Joe Biden's selection as VP and his evolving friendship with Obama, and most insightful of all was this piece on the history of candidate biographies--it all began with Andrew Jackson and continues today.

Once inside Bethany Baptist Church, standing at the voting machine, I got the shimmers. These happen every year as I poke the stick at the screen. I worry that I'm going to accidentally vote for the wrong guy/girl. That somehow I will overlook my mistake and unwillingly contribute to something I oppose. But I triple-checked, and my vote always looked right.

** If you enjoyed this reflection, read "Ode to the Sticker Man" also on johnvano.com.