Having looked at a sample ballot on line, I knew how I was going to vote. I didn’t realize until I was halfway to the creek that I’d left my glasses at home. The poling place is the firehouse, which is exactly where I walk most mornings. Going back would be too much trouble, so I walked on, hoping I’d be able to see well enough to vote. I couldn’t really read the paper I signed, indicating I was legally eligible to cast a vote, but I have read it before. The woman pointed to the line for signing, and I scribbled my name there. Another volunteer handed me the ballot. Scurrying to the booth, I put the paper down. Whew! I could read the names. I couldn’t clearly see the round bullets I needed to fill in. I’m sure it looked like a two-year-old’s coloring, going outside the lines, but hopefully the machine would read it correctly. I held my breath as the ballot was sucked into the voting machine. Good! It was not rejected.
I very proudly applied the sticker they handed me that said, “I voted.” It was not as easy as it once was, but I did it all by myself!