Dads and Moms (Day 2)

One of many symmetrical designs.

Let me start by saying, whoever decided the polls should be open on a Saturday from 7 a.m. until 7 p.m. needs to come see me. We need to talk. It's a stupid idea. It means I wake up at 4 a.m. and have to be people-y all day. Especially when I'm in charge. 

I will also say around noon I texted Marty and told him he needed to gather bail money. Kara was on my last nerve. I think that was about the time she started bragging to everyone about "tarantula season" in Arizona. Or maybe when she started bragging about how she should have a PhD in property management because she's rented so much. Or maybe it was when she shared her sage (and extremely unpleasant) opinion on Catholics. 

For the record, there's an awesome app on my phone called "Happy Color." It kept me busy so I didn't have to respond. 

Also for the record, Kara's okay as a person when I'm not trapped in a Breakfast Club scenario with her for 12+ hours at a time. I don't see us being besties but in small purple patches she's fine. Oh, it also turns out she's in the master gardener program too, so I'll be seeing her more.  But enough about her. (for now).  

Back to Early Voting at the Church of Christ on Saturday in Texarkana. We had a trickle of people in 12 hours. The good people of Texas paid their tax money into having folks like me sit at the election poll, color on my phone, play with "I voted stickers" all while making polite small talk. 

We did have one gentleman come in. He is 88 and was cantankerous as anything. He used a walker. originally refused to give photo ID--giving my new clerk a hard time--and griped about all the "technology" associated with voting these days. The three Southern women I worked with cringed, unsure how to approach him. He seemed to chew their politeness out and spit it back as venom. As for me, I cracked my knuckles, got my best no-nonsense face on and said hello. All the while, all I could think of was how much I missed my father, because everything from his crusty-on-the-exterior demeanor to his disability reminded me of my Dad. 

Normally I don't offer to assist voters (we help when THEY ask), but I already figured out that he just wanted attention and most of what he was doing was a ruse. I brought him a sample ballot. I talked with him for a moment and even moved the chair out of the way in front of the voting station so he could sit on his walker instead. I showed him all the fun features (like the "next" button) the voting machine had. I even listened to him give his opinions about the candidates. When he was done voting, his rough exterior had melted and he'd taken the "I voted" sticker from me. As for my co-workers, they were impressed. He'd been the toughest voter we'd had. 

When he left, I went in the bathroom and wiped my eyes. Monday will be two years since Dad died. It's been on my mind for days.  

The afternoon wore on, and we made more small talk, I colored more pictures, and I made more designs with the "I voted stickers." Just so you know, it is against the law to take pictures in the voting room. So, the picture I took was because we all moved the table to the doorway during one of the hour-long lulls we had. 

Sadly, Kara received unfortunate news around 4 p.m. Her mother had been hospitalized and she is several hours away. Kara left early and won't be returning for the remaining shifts. Therefore, because I need a co-judge, I deputized one of my clerks. 

Part of me is thrilled I won't have to work with Kara for the rest of this election. However, I also remember how I felt when my father was hospitalized and I was out of town. It is a feeling of abject helplessness. For her sake I hope this is a false alarm and her mother is fine.