May the Best Woman Win

We voted! Unfortunately it wasn’t one of those teary, dreamy, perfect experiences that I keep reading about today. The basement of the Senior Center where we voted was hot as hell – hence I took off both my suffragette white sweater and my coat and voted in the moral equivalent of lingerie, though kept on the pearls — and as I had my six year old son, who had already voted early this morning with my husband, with me, and since I was thinking of this as a quintessential mother/ daughter moment, I tried to get him to give us a little private time, mostly to no avail. “Take my coat off the bottom of that dirty table!” I yelled at one point. And then, when I saw that he had not only gone underneath a curtain into some old-fashioned Oz-like voting equipment but was hoisting himself on top of it, “I’m going to punish you!”

In the midst of all this excitement and the thrill of voting with my daughter for what – fingers crossed – will be our first “girl president,” I got all ferklempt and after filling in the bubble for Chuck Schumer for Senate mistakenly voted for the Republican woman as well only to then realize that you could only vote for one of them. Needless to say we got our ballot voided and began again, an experience which made me think of all those poor senior citizens who mistakenly voted for Pat Buchanan in 2000….

A little while later, with my kids successfully dispersed to piano and drama, an older woman of my mother’s age, though really just the age she was when she died, stopped me on the street and asked me if I was wearing white for Hillary. When I told her yes, she unzipped her jacket and proudly showed me her Hillary t-shirt. We then high-fived. “May the best woman win,” we said, and that indeed was dreamy.

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