Finding promise in one tenacious line of citizens . . . in the ten-day countdown to our election

By Mary Kay Roth

I went looking for hope this week.

I’m guessing most everyone feels like I do right now, bone weary from the bombardment of noxious commercials, the chill of toxic politics and the heavy shroud of doomsday hovering above our heads.  

So, I roamed and meandered about the city, initially thinking of destinations like green space and walking trails. Yet somehow I was drawn to the Lancaster County Election Commission on Friday – the final day that people could register to vote.  

 

Lo and behold, the place was overpacked with nary a parking space in sight, a long line of people literally wrapped around the Election Commission building: People registering to vote, casting early ballots.

Upon arrival, I simply and directly walked up and said I was curious about why they were there – why they were willing to wait in line.  

• “I’m here because I want my voice to be heard.”
• “There’s a lot going on right now and I’m worried.  There’s just no excuse for anyone not voting this November.”
• “Voting is important every year. But this time it feels different … Somehow there’s an urgency.” 
• “This is a democracy, so my daughter and I are exercising our right to vote – our privilege – our obligation.” 
• “I would argue this is the most consequential election in my lifetime.” 

I didn’t ask anyone about their politics. I didn’t want dogma or debate. I only explained I was writing a blog and was looking to find some faith in the election season this year.  Somehow their answers started to thaw my icy-cold soul. 

Oddly – and I know this is something of a weird analogy – the sensation was much like my mindset when I approach fall chores.

Each year at this time I cut back my perennials, mulch, clean gutters, stack up precious new piles of firewood.  I put my garden to bed for a long winter’s sleep, saying goodbye to my last geraniums as they yawn and nod.

And I find satisfaction in the wisdom that I’m protecting my little world from the coming cold, wrapping everything up in a blanket of warmth.

I’m feeling much the same way about that line of voters and their tenacious belief in democracy. Unexpectedly – now ten days until the election – that frosty shroud of doomsday is feeling much more like a cozy blanket of promise and possibility.

Sure, this was only one line of voters in one county in one state. But somehow it isn’t hard for me to imagine such lines forming in counties and states across the country … with folks who sound just like the citizens of Lancaster County.

• “I’m here today because I live in a democracy. That’s what voting is all about.”
• “I only need to officially change my address this morning … But I’ve voted in every election in Nebraska for the past 50 years and I’ll vote again this year.  It’s the way we make a difference.” 
• “The United States is at a crossroads.  And we get to have a say in which direction we will go.” 
• “Yes, I procrastinated.  But I don’t care how long this line gets. Voting is not just a right – it’s an honor.” 

Now, I’m not completely naïve. Voting should be as easy and accessible as possible, yet in recent years anti-voter bills have erected unnecessary barriers for people to register to vote, vote by mail, vote in person.  Suppression efforts range from strict voter ID laws and cuts to early voting, to mass purges of voter rolls and systemic disenfranchisement. 

Trust me, I worry.  I will continue to stay vigilant and advocate.

Nonetheless I found people of all walks of life at the Election Commission on Friday, people of various ethnicities, ages and sensibilities.

Granted, there was the inevitable funny guy who claimed he thought this was the line where he could order a double whopper.

And the man who – I truly don’t know why – felt it necessary to call me by that ugly pejorative reserved exclusively for females.

But just when I was about to head home, I encountered three eager students from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln who were practically bouncing up and down in line. One of them boldly stepped forward to talk with me: “My dad is from Poland and my whole life I was raised with the belief that the right to vote in this country is special – precious – sacred. My dad was passionate about voting.  So, I am passionate about it too.  I’m here to register to vote for the very first time and I brought my two best friends along.”

Be still my heart.

This coming week I’ll replace the furnace filter and drain gasoline from my mower. I’ll trade out hoes for rakes and snow shovels.  

And I’ll tackle my very favorite fall chore, planting bulbs. Because I know this spring those bulbs will poke their heads out of the ground and bloom.

Yeah, I could always lose everything with a really hard freeze.  But I try my best to keep the faith. 

I plant. I mulch. I vote. I believe. 

I believe this spring we’ll look back upon a November election when record numbers of voters made (mostly) wise choices about their community and their country.  

I went looking for hope this week.  I found a glimmer.

***Election day is Tuesday, Nov. 5, 2024.  Vote. Encourage others to vote. Wear your “I voted” sticker proudly. Volunteer to offer rides to polling places.  And keep the faith.