Just got back from voting today and, as usual, it was a slice.
One advantage of being retired is being able to pick a time that isn’t likely to be very busy. An additional advantage to being a registered Republican is having a lot fewer decisions to make in primary elections once you eventually get there.
There were seven county offices for which I had but one option. Another county office had no one running as a candidate. In my typical election day protest of the lack of effort by my party in finding candidates, I wrote in my own name for that one.
Other local races, such as school board and borough council, had plenty of openings and not a lot of names to consider.
Even the larger state races had little in the way of choice.
My precinct is the Southmont Borough Building and the experience there didn’t disappoint. I announced my name to the worker at the check-in desk in my outside calling voice, giving the last name first and then my first name. She found Ross in the binder.
“Robert?” she asked.
“No, Sam, I replied” to which she said, “Right, that’s what you told me.”
Perhaps this was a test to see if I knew my own name? I passed, apparently, because I received a ballot.
Often in the past I’ve been misidentified as Dan until I corrected the worker. Many of these people are familiar faces from previous elections, and I’ve lived at my current address for about 37 years, so . . . never mind.
The ballot was basic, but also two-sided. Despite the heads-up regarding this from workers, I suspect some will neglect to flip and fill.
With all the bubbles filled in fully – front and rear — I marched to the scanner. All the workers were huddled around a nearby desk chatting. Not knowing whether voters were free to scan their own ballots, I waited.
A man walked over and told me to attempt to insert the ballot, which promptly was rejected. The worker was not surprised. He told me it had been rejecting ballots all day and the county would be around to address it.
But, he directed me to a slot beneath the machinery, into which the electronic ballot could be deposited for later scanning (or, I thought, disposal if this were a ballot from a Republican voting in a general election).
Seeing the quizzical look on my face, the man added that this was a “lock box.”
“Like Al Gore’s lock box?” I asked.
And away I went.
I will note that upon arriving at the building, and seeing knots of election types and other people clogging the customary pathway to the main door, I had walked in via the handicapped ramp.
The situation was the same upon my exit, so I left that way. While making my way to my vehicle, I glanced down toward the gathering of humanity in time to see an elderly woman voter miss the one step – highlighted in yellow paint – and pitch forward to the sidewalk.
Fortunately, there were plenty of people there and she didn’t seem to be harmed badly. But, I do believe I caught a glance of one candidate for County Commissioner leaving a parked car emblazoned with his name on the door, and rush to aid.
Good for him. Bad for him is that the vehicle he left was proudly badged as a Hybrid Jetta.
That candidate was neither Joseph Taranto nor John DeBartola, the pair for whom I had voted. This hybrid thing just made me a little more sure that I’d made the right choice.
Sam Ross Jr's site 