I am a 44-year old white male, currently living in St. Petersburg, FL. I am moderately successful and I have historically voted Republican for president, except for Bill Clinton in 1996.
Today was the start of early voting in Florida. I made it to the downtown St. Petersburg, Florida early voter location (one of just three such locations in the large county of Pinellas, Florida which is just across the bay and west of Tampa).
Though I was confident of my choice today, with all the press making hay of the purported Bradley Effect, I had to wonder if some little demon inside me might appear on my shoulder as I huddled over my ballot...
Backing up a bit, as I neared the polling place, a man in his late sixties was on the corner, happily waving an Obama/Biden sign in one hand and a "VOTE EARLY!" sign in the other, making sure folks like me knew where the polling place was. No McCain folks in sight. I found a good parking space and fed the parking meter at 11:15 AM, 3 hours and 15 minutes since the voting began today.
The weather was perfect, maybe 72 degrees, with a light breeze and scattered, lazy clouds. A quick count showed about 40 people in line outside, maybe 30 in line inside the County Building and another 20 or so inside the voting room. About 25% of the line was African American. I'd say my age of mid-40's seemed to be about the average age of those in line. A fair number of seniors also, but few twenty-somethings.
The line was slow, but steady, and the polling place volunteers told me the line size had been about the same all morning. Each poll worker I spoke with said this was considered a busy pace.
People in line were upbeat, finding quick, if fleeting, friendship with their line-mates. Most were speaking in hushed tones, but their smiles seemed to give away their voting intentions. A few older black gentlemen were behind me and they struck up conversation with a well-dressed white woman in her late 50's. She remarked that she wanted to vote early this time in the off chance she keeled over and dropped dead before election day -- she really wanted to make sure her vote counted. One of the men shared that he was having a tough time. He'd lost his job -- twice -- and his home was in the last steps of foreclosure. Amazingly, he was upbeat. "Well, you know life goes on and I'm just proud that this day has finally come," the man remarked thoughtfully. The woman smile and nodded.
I asked the mid-40's white male in front of me how long he'd been waiting. As he turned I noted his Obama button and he mentioned the line was slow, but he did not mind. Not at all. Not this time.
After that, I went back to my own thoughts -- so much is at stake this year and our world and country are at precarious places. My mind ran through once again the primaries, the stuggles and triumphs. I remembered the fear in me that arose with the revelations about Reverend Wright -- please God, don't let this scuttle Barack Obama's journey to the White House. I recalled the disppointing tenor of the fight with Hillary, while realizing just how much that fight has now contributed to the success of the Democratic campaign with the millions of new voters and the brutal vetting of our candidate. I thought back to the joy, beauty and soaring aspirations made real in Denver, the tears on the many faces reflecting all colors, all creeds and all ages.
I reflected upon the horror and disgust I felt during the Republican Convention with the snide, ugly, jingoistic tone among the homogonously white crowd. No way Americans would let that stand, would they? Please God no, that is not America today is it? And then I saw the rallies for Obama -- large and determined, joyous and hopeful. Each seemingly bigger than the next. I dared to hope.
With the economy being tossed about in a turbulence of neglect and greed, I witnessed states begin to turn, the blues getting deeper blue, the reds turning pink and pink giving way to light blue. My wife and I decided we needed to do our little part to shade Florida blue, we did a little convassing with our two little daughters. I talked with and debated colleagues and friends.
And then this weekend, 175,000 "anti-Americans" turned out for Barack in Missouri, nearly 3/4 of a million dollars were raised to fight bad seed Bachmann and Sunday began to climax with the soul-searching and eloquent endorsement of Colin Powell. Sunday night, the weekend exploded with a miracle of sorts, for those here in St. Petersburg at least, with the World Series birth of our worst-to-first Rays.
So I waited at the threshold of the polling room feeling upbeat myself. Just before I approached the desk of "Step 1," a tall elderly black gentleman, maybe in his early 80's, left the room quietly, but purposely. I suddenly wanted to run after him and ask him in respectful wonderment how this moment felt. I wanted to feel what he felt, knowing I could not, not ever. Today that man towered and may he dream dreams of great possibilities for his grandchildren, may he offer peace to his ancestors in his prayers.
After checking off my name, I was handed a ballot and made way to one of thirty little booths ordered neatly in three rows. My fellow citizens huddled over their ballots, executing their most sacred of civic duties. I looked down and moved away the opaque ballot cover and stared at the selection for president, at my choice to make. McCain listed first. Obama second. The ten or so other names below were just collections of letters to me. Just McCain and Obama. I stood there as a wave of awe coursed through me. I gave conscious thought about this Bradley Effect thing as the history of this moment and my tiny, tiny part in it welled up inside me. As a white male, I know the demon lurks there, somewhere, whether or not I ever recognize it. Was that next emotion fleeting shame? Perhaps, but it was altogether buried in a boiling torrent of rampant hope blasting from heart to my brain, shootly down the nerves of my arm and crashing into my fingers. And then, I, slowly at first, carefully with great deliberation, began to color in the oval. Then more and more vigorously I inked in for Barack Obama, Democrat for President of the United States States of America. I pressed hard and left not one micron of blank in that oval -- I wanted to make sure every fiber of pulp in that oval on that ballot, my ballot, was forever stained with my indelible mark that screamed "ENOUGH!!!!!!"
Today was a great day. I feel stronger for casting my vote. I feel, somehow, greater than I was yesterday, more deserving of my daughters today. I know it is silly, but this is my story on this day, October 20, 2008, the day I cast my vote to set America free.