One of my earliest - and fondest - political memories is my father taking me with him to vote. I loved having the day off of school, of course, but the highlight came when we'd descend the stairs at some different, unfamiliar school to wait "our" turn to cast a ballot. I knew, in that sense that little kids can sometimes have, that something important and grown up was going on - and for once I'd get to be a part of it.
The voting machines themselves were the biggest thrill of all. Towering gunmental contraptions that resembled a cross between a fitting room, a phone booth and a Dalek, these ancient but trusty boxes had an extremely solid feel to them. You'd pull on a stiff red handle to close the curtains, snap down little levers to indicate your choices, and then, when done, pull the handle back the other way to record your vote, reset the machine and open the curtains once more. My dad always let me do the yanking and flipping, and the heavy clanking of machinery felt immensely satisfying. When you left, you knew you had done something.
I still get that same feeling of satisfaction every time I thunk that red handle back into place. But this past Tuesday, I encountered a different set of emotions entirely. I cast my own ballot without trouble, as I always have. I then spent the rest of the day up in Connecticut, helping out my good friend DHinMI as a poll watcher for the Jim Himes campaign.
I was stationed outside of a school in Bridgeport, where a diverse crowd patiently waited on a line that generally took about 30-45 minutes to get through. On their way out, I asked every voter I could reach if they were able to vote successfully; fortunately, almost everyone answered "yes."
But there was one recurring problem which I saw with distressing frequency: After a long wait, people would finally reach the front, only to be told that they were at the wrong polling place. This was, needless to say, a terribly discouraging experience for most people. Some folks would soldier on to the next spot, but others simply gave up.
For the disabled, the elderly, folks taking time off work, folks with kids to get home to, and people without cars of their own, a second schlep and a second long wait was often not an option. And as the 8 o'clock closing time drew near, it probably wasn't even possible to get to another polling station in time. I would beg and plead with these people to keep trying (and in one case I was even able to find someone with a suspended license a ride), but I could understand the frustration of people who just wanted to - or had to - go home.
The worst part is that this is a problem with a ready solution: We should allow everyone to vote by mail. For a long time, I reflexively resisted vote-by-mail or permanent absentee ballots - I didn't just like my machines, I also felt that voting in person was one of those rare civic institutions that brings people from all walks together. I love the camraderie of talking with perfect strangers as we wait in line to do our civic duty.
But Tuesday made me a convert. Voting by mail doesn't just solve the "wrong polling place" problem, it solves the broken voting machine problem, the incompetent poll worker problem, the long line problem, the voter intimidation problem and a whole host of others. I'm not suggesting that states ought to scrap in-person voting entirely (though they might want to consider it) - there's no reason why you can't have a hybrid system.
However, I can no longer think of a good reason not to allow every voter the option of receiving a permanent absentee ballot - and I can think of many, many in favor. We don't necessarily need to adopt Oregon's mail-only system - California, for instance, just started allowing permanent mail voting, and it looks to have been a success (even if the state is still learning how to deal with the last-minute flood of ballots).
I think all states should move to this sort of system as soon as practical. It will be good for voters, good for democracy, and good for America. And it'll go a long way toward making sure the problems I saw in Bridgeport on Tuesday - and which people undoubtedly experienced around the country - become a thing of the past.