How I Spent Election Day '08

As I begin tonight, I still don't know who will be this country's next president. What I do know is that I had a wonderful day participating in the grand American democratic experiment. Starting at 7:08 a.m., when I took my place in the longest line of voters I've ever stood in, it's been nothing short of an inspiration. A huge white hawk soared up to alight on one of the lampposts high above my polling place at the Agassiz School and it felt like an auspicious sign. We would be watched over by this magnificent bird. Things would be all right.

I went on to wait another 35 minutes before entering the gym and getting my ballot. I carefully filled in the little circles with indelible ink—no touch-screen technology around here. As soon as I had fed my ballot into the hungry optical scanner, I turned tail and headed into the bright, crisp morning.

After a couple of hours racing through the New England foliage, trying my damnedest not to think about politics and all that is at stake in this historic election, I arrived in Rochester, New Hampshire, where I had agreed to spend my day volunteering for Barack Obama's get-out-the-vote ground game. On Main Street, I saw the Republican headquarters, decked out in signs for all manner of GOP candidate, most of whom I had never heard of prior to that moment. Directly across the street I found what I was looking for. I signed in at the Dems' HQ and was directed to a community center around the corner where I would get my assignment.

A few minutes later, I was teamed up with Katie, a mother of three from Framingham, who was every bit as enthusiastic and every bit as nervous about today as I. We picked up our contact lists and many pounds of leaflets and brochures and headed out into this unfamiliar town. Our first stop was the Silver Bell Trailer Court, where we had five mobile homes to canvass. As was typical for our day, Katie and I only found one voter out of five actually at home. Equally typical, at least for the people we met this morning, was the fact that the woman at trailer number five was intending to vote, but had not yet made it out. We offered a ride to the polls, but she assured us her friend was coming for her.

As we made our way to the other houses on our list, one of the first things that jumped out to me was just how desperately poor so many of the people in Rochester seem to be. A great many live in trailers, some of which were so dilapidated you worried that they might not make it through the winter. There were cars up on blocks, plastic children's toys scattered about, and an overall sense of despair. Maybe somehow this campaign based on "hope" can deliver for these people who've been left behind by so many politicians for so long.

Of the few people we actually did meet, two stand out in particular. The first was David, who has his own garage, where he restores antique cars for a living. He was chain smoking while tinkering with a '37 Chevy and was thrilled to talk to us about his cars, if not politics, though he did pledge to vote for the Big O. One other man who was for Obama was Leo, a 70-year-old white guy who told Katie and me that he had once owned 500 guns—not because he was starting a small army apparently, but because he was a collector—and yet only now is learning to read. He was completely pro-Obama, and so was his wife. If ever there was a stereotype buster, Leo is it.

Before I end here, let me say that I have just learned Barack Obama will be our next president. If we needed proof that this momentous event will have effects far beyond America's shores, the first phone call I received after the announcement came from my friends in Jaipur, India.

They were overjoyed, as am I.