Voting in the OTHER LA, Louisiana...

I have voted in eight presidential elections and uncountable local and state elections in two states. Today was different than any before in one important way: the turnout.

We had been warned (after crowded early voting) to expect lines. However, since we have a polling place about every square mile in our rural parish (the Louisiana equivalent of county ), I was dubious that there'd be much of a wait.

Boy, was I wrong! There were already about 200 people standing in the dark when we got to our polling place just before 6:00 a.m., so we found ourselves half wishing we had dragged our kids out of bed to see this historic sight! I've been in a line of maybe 10 or so before, but never like this, and the people just kept rolling in after us, the headlights raking the line like spotlights with each arriving car.

There were African Americans, caucasians, Asian Americans, Hispanic Americans...every race and shade and age and socioeconomic group represented. Some were in business attire, some in various professional or blue-collar uniforms, some in sweats or jeans. Most wore at least one jacket against the chilly mist. Almost everyone had a go-cup of something to drink. The disabled and elderly were whisked to the front of the line as soon as somebody noticed them without a murmur among those waiting patiently. A couple of people had wisely brought lawn chairs to drag along with them, but everyone else stood calmly, chatting in an upbeat and friendly manner with everyone in speaking distance-- known and unknown--because

a) they're obviously neighbors (even if you don't know them yet, and you're likely going to run into them one of these days down at the Winn-Dixie so you might as well be nice), and

b) it's the Southern Thing To Do when waiting in line.

Perhaps a tenth of the voters out of all those in line looked like they were mad about something, but I noticed that not one of those sourpusses had a beverage. Maybe they're just NOT crack-of-dawn people OR maybe they were merely sulking that they'd already finished their coffee.

All the chatting within my earshot was notably NOT about candidates in specific but rather, if it was political at all, it was about the seven constitutional amendments on the ballot and how you never could know the entire story about those, the bias in media (again, with no names mentioned), and the deep-down, self-interested similarities between all politicians, once you scrub the spin off.

Most talk I heard, however, revolved aroud the Stuff of Life. Questions like: Who's your mama? Which house is yours? Where do your kids go to school? Have you ever seen a line like this? Want me to hold your purse while you put that jacket on?

At the door, the line split into precincts and we had to pick. We vote in nearly every election, so it was easy for us to know which table had our names in the notebook, but there were many people who'd never voted before and were unsure. The poll workers were helpful and solicitous to all. When a young woman of color (who was voting in her first presidential election, it turned out) was alerted by a poll worker that she had been standing in the wrong line, she was courteously admitted to the other precinct's line at roughly the same point with no outward irritation from those in front of whom she stepped. Several people urged her not to feel bad, it had/could have happened to them.

The voting itself was completely uncomplicated. I showed my picture ID, the commissioner said my full name loud and clear, two women wrote it down, and I signed next to my name in the book. I was directed to a booth and the curtains were shut around me. Louisiana owns all of its voting equipment and each polling place has the same style of machine each time so there were no surprises. The directions were clear--I was to press on the little box next to my choice. The illuminated X moved from the title of the choice into its spot in the box I indicated. I could change my choice (I tried, just to see if it would let me) before pressing the "Cast Vote" button to lock in my votes.

This done, we were out of there, and we discovered on our walk back to the cars that we'd accidentally "cancelled" each other's vote on one of the amendments. Then we were on our way about our days, me to the grocery store and my husband to work. The line when we left was just a bit longer than when we arrived, and the mist was burning off as the sun rose. The school had huge fans at the ready to direct on people if it gets too hot later today in full sunlight, and there are chairs and benches placed nearby, and the outdoor water fountain was right there, too.

If I'd been explaining to my kids or a class what SHOULD have happened on an election day, this would be what I described.

I only hope that those who have never voted before today decide they kind of like it, and keep on showing up so there are ALWAYS long, friendly lines.