Election Day

Quick notes. I hope I can return to this. Two weeks late or two weeks later this has lost urgency.

On Monday night Don set the coffee maker up for me to just turn on when I woke up at 4:30 am. My bag was packed with camera, advil, pens, notebook and snacks for a long day. I have not been taking pictures. I haven't wanted to step outside and survey critically the activity around me - Obama headquarters. Canvassing in neighborhoods where I was a visitor, a representative of the Obama campaign. I'm sorry I didn't take pictures but it takes a leap of self to step outside what I'm doing and be an observer. I wanted to be right inside this. But I was still closely to jumping out of my skin. I kept leaping ahead to Wednesday when it would be decided but I wanted to be present in Tuesday, the day when millions of Americans would be casting their votes.

I packed extra chairs in the car with a vision of sitting quietly behind the election officials signing in voters. A large empty gymnasium with a line outside in the hall. I drove around the corner in the pre-dawn drizzle and picked up Marty Gravett, a friend, mentor and fellow musician: today my poll watch partner. We followed the Mapqest directions south down Broad Rock Blvd, looking for the turn to Snead Road and J.L. Francis Elementary School. (The night before Marty and I and the other poll watches squeezed into the already overcrowded back room ---the now-familiar sight of folks talking into cell phones referencing clipboards and laptops sitting anywhere possible. The poll watchers were the ones crowded around Sean, the area coordinator, who was handing out lists of registered voters in each precinct for us to track who had voted and who had not as the day progressed.) We overshot our turn off. Both of us hoping the cold rain wouldn't be scaring off voters. By the time we got to the school, we could see the parking lot was full and the over flow continues down the road for several tenths of a mile. It was the first indication that something very big was happening.

We made our way past the long line that had formed way before the polls were due to open. It was just 5:45. Officials held us back at the door to the cafeteria then let us pass when we presented our letters from the Democratic Party. Marty and I glanced at each other. The chairs were unnecessary. Small cafeteria chairs were stacked against the wall. We unpacked our bags and took our places behind the pairs of poll workers. When Sean handed me our assignment he said, "Oh, you have a good one. It's one of the largest in Richmond." Now I saw the implications of that. Normally there would be two pairs of workers signing in voters. (A-K, L-Z). Here there were four sets: (A-E, F-K, L-R, S-Z) which meant that Marty and I would be trying to listen simultaneously to two pairs at work.

At 6 am, somewhere declared the poll open and the stream began. At first it was difficult to figure out where to station ourselves to hear and see the names of voters as they were checked off and handed tickets to take to the machine. They were supposed to call their name out, but most mumbled or spoke quickly. I was frantically trying to hear a name, peek over a shoulder at a tiny 8' type name on a photo id, at first one table than another. One set, two women were trying hard to help me out. They would look at me and make sure I heard the name, if I looked unsure. The other couple, a pair of men seemed mildly annoyed (and at times plainly so) at my presence. Within minutes of the polls opening, the small cafeteria was packed. Each table had a line snaking around to the doors to the hallways. There was a steady din of conversation and voter intake. The vast majority of the voters were African American. Many dressed for work in blue-collar jobs (many with blue collars). A lot of young men exercising their right to vote. Older couples. Moms and grandmas with kids. Women in high heels. Women in sweats.


If I could only record the varieties of expression: harried, calm and very confident, happy, strong, excited, tired...The man with his wife who when asked if he was going to vote replied with some sadness, "No". The men checking off his wife’s name nodded understandingly, sympathetically. It took me a moment to catch on to what I wasn't privy to and then realized that he very likely was a convicted felon who lost the right to vote. Something very familiar to the families in this community. A small window into a world I can't imagine. One --- only one --- woman complained about the 2-hour wait in line. An overweight white woman maybe in her 40's, in a sweatshirt and sneakers. Hard to speculate about her story. But I did. I would see an elderly conventional-looking white couple (the entire day I saw out of a more than 1,800 voters maybe five or six such couples). "They won't be on my list of canvassed Obama supporters," I would say to myself to protect against the disappointment of a vote for M/P. Several times they were. It seemed like a wonderful victory. The polling numbers showed African Americans were favoring Obama by a huge margin so I made some assumptions about voters even if they weren't on my list. But what excited me was the guy in line who I easily cast as a skinny redneck, whose name was on my list. It was a game and often I was surprised to folks I would have targeted otherwise to be Obama supporters. I made some guesses about the young large white mom pulling at her kids who wasn’t on my list. A Christian homeschooler?

I dearly wish I could have counted the number of times I heard, "I've never voted before." "This is my first time voting". I would look over and try to get a look at a birth date. 1950's. 1940's. One poll worker told me about the 88-year-old African American woman who was voting for the first time in her life. Finally by 11:30 am the lines dissolved into one or two folks, maybe a few more in line. Sometimes nobody at a desk for a few minutes. Mid-day when the cafeteria was filled mainly with poll workers a woman (I soon learned she was in her early 50's) came rushing in. I recall something about boots and skinny jeans and curly hair dyed yellow. An impression of something fancy and flashy. "I couldn't sleep last night," she announced paces away from the table. She was so excited to vote for the first time in her life.

As I was calling totals in to headquarters Sean responded that they were great numbers. I could only guess what that meant. Maybe, knowing the make-up of this precinct that high numbers were high numbers for Obama. I am pretty sure that the campaign knew just what sorts of projected numbers for turn out in key regions could mean for an Obama win. I think they knew when the vote was close to even between M + O but Northern Virginia and Hampton Roads were still being counted that the scales would tip securely.

Marty and I packed up sometime around 4, although I didn't want to leave. It made no sense to take photos at that point. But I could have. I just could not bring myself to violate this precious event by documenting it for myself. As we said our goodbyes to the poll workers who had been friendly but by training very neutral, several hugged us and thank us and I did the same. One of the women (whose name I forgot) said, as I was packing up to leave, “Tell Sean I said ‘hi’ Tell him I'm the one with all the signs in my yard. I had tears in my eyes to see how close we were to that same feeling of hope and excitement but she hadn't been able to say anything except this all day.