I think the charming lady who helped me at my polling place yesterday was the same woman who helped me on Primary day a few months ago. I wonder if she always works at the 25th district polling station.
After thanking someone in Spanish for voting, she told me that one of her many nephews is also named Eric and that he is a lawyer in California.
I love these little old ladies, sentinels of democracy, who guide voters through primary school gymnasia and church community rooms across the country, drawing back that plastic curtain, gazing hopefully up at us through heavy eyewear.
I love the gatherings of two or three neighbors, sometimes with a baby carriage, usually with a coffee, catching up on gossip and grandkids.
I love pulling that lever — clank! — flipping all the switches — fft! fft! fft! — and pulling that lever back — clunk!. The sound of voting is so satisfying. I hope we don’t ever go digital in my district. How ever then would the little old ladies be able to help us?
... but enough about me 
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