Divisions and Precisions

Red, White, Blue, Black and All the Rest

If nothing else, it was an impressive show of democracy (which may mean nothing, depending on how Florida goes, but that's another rant for another page). I left work a little after six last night to vote. I had plenty of time, of course, so I wasn't worried. By the time I got to the church where I was supposed to vote, it was about six-thirty. The parking lot was full to overflowing -- and it was a huge parking lot. 'Okay,' I thought, 'there's going to be a long wait.' So I grabbed my book and went on in. Picture this: a church basement, made over into a gymnasium of sorts, perhaps fifty or sixty feet square. The mass of people inside seemed to have no discernable order at all. I spent several moments trying to figure out where I was supposed to go.

Once some kind soul pointed out where the end of the line was, the mass of people resolved itself into a line that coiled serpent-like around the basement -- twice. People lined up around the outside wall of the building, and then when it went around once, they continued the line just to the inside, and it wrapped around again. I was glad I had my book, cause I knew then I was going to be there for a long time.

I read in line for about forty-five minutes, almost making it around the inner circle. Behind me, I heard two women, about my age, talking about local apartment complexes. One of them commented that she'd heard that mine was horrible. I glanced back and smiled and said, "Oh, it's really not that bad, I live there." I assumed they'd come to the polls together. They both looked like students. Don't ask me what a student looks like, but after six years in Ann Arbor, I can say there's definitely a look. I just can't describe it. One of them was petite, Asian, the other was taller than me and very robust, with slightly tanned skin and hair somewhere between dishwater blonde and brown.

Now I know, very often when you butt into a strangers' conversation, you get a weird look. It didn't happen this time. Bored, with little else to do (other than read, of course) we fell into a conversation, mostly to do with the odd zoning in our immediate region -- as we all lived within a few blocks of each other. Things like the vagaries of township and school district borders held our attention for perhaps twenty minutes or so. Then, naturally, conversation turned to griping about how very long the line we were standing in was.

Then a fourth joined our conversation, a well-dressed black man. My vibe from him was "not a student". We had a grand old time, the four of us, laughing and talking. We teased each other like old friends, and giggled when the election officials gave us sign in forms to fill out ahead of time. "To give us something to do," she said, although she had no pens we could use. We joked that they were trying to keep us from being rowdy. By this time, it was nearly quarter to eight, and we had nearly a whole lap to go.

Eventually, it came out that the tall girl was a single mom: "My mom is going to kill me," she kept repeating. "She's watching my baby while I'm here. I told her I'd be right back." Her son was nine months old, she said, but he'd been born at 25 weeks. A micropreemie, who weighed a little over a pound. At the same time, she was working on a degree at Eastern (which is where I'm going). On her own since she was sixteen, she said. She seemed tiredly amused that she'd been on her own for so long, and didn't get pregnant until she was nearly finished with school. "But I love my son," she said, "I wouldn't trade him for anything." No matter how worthless dad turned out to be.

By now, our fourth member had wandered off, visiting familiar faces around the room. As the line moved around the room, the tall girl and I fell easily into personal conversations about ourselves. I realized later that it felt much like what I do here. It turned out that she's from Puerto Rico, and the rather reticent Asian girl was from Miami. Finally when talk turned back to school, we got somewhere with her. She said she was almost done with a Ph.D. in civil engineering at the University of Michigan. And was completely burned out of school. She'd been going nonstop for 22 years, she said. And as far as she was concerned, she wanted nothing more to do with civil engineering. Ever. Talk fell into typical older college student talk: the value of a degree in the workplace, how to balance work and school. The tall girl said, "It's so cool, how we're all the same age but are at such varying places in our lives." And she was right. It was.

Our companion returned. It turned out I was only partly correct in my assessment of him. He, too, was a student, working on a Ph.D. of his own in Educational Leadership. In the meantime, he was a college professor at Eastern and Washtenaw Community. Before long -- well no, that's a lie, it was two hours, but it didn't feel that long -- we reached the table and signed in. I was the first. "Well, it was really nice talking with you all," I said, then smiled and went to vote.

Four people. Male, female, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, student, teacher, single, divorced, married, varying orientations. We were the nation in small. We didn't talk about politics, so I don't know how any of them voted, I never even found out their names. I'd imagine we fell along all party and candidate lines. I left the church with a sense of rightness. This is how it's supposed to be. That feeling had little to do with my vote. Four very different people, united for a couple of hours only by a sense of civic duty. That's what this is all about. That's what made me feel, even for a little bit, glad to be American. Posted by Lisa at November 8, 2000 03:54 PM