Our daughters voted for the first time this week. Our oldest is 21 years old, and our youngest turned 18 just before Election Day, and so on Tuesday, after our oldest came home from work and our youngest returned from school, we set off for a local polling place in a library.
I had already voted by mail. But I got to tag along with my family because seeing our daughters step behind a screen and cast their first votes seemed to me as momentous as any graduation.
I have been voting by mail in recent elections, and almost forgotten what a good time it can be to cast your ballot in person. As our family walked, the way was marked by signs wrapped onto trees, proclaiming the names of candidates. Whatever their party, they always seem to be in red, white and blue. Signs at the library announced, “Vote Aqui,” “Vote Here” and “Zài zhèli tóupiào,” in Mandarin. It reminded me how in so many American neighborhoods, you can find people from all over the world who now call it home.
There were about 20 people in line in front of our family: a woman with her small son, who yawned and snacked as she waited to vote; a man standing with his daughter in his arms, reading to her from a picture book about a narwhal; and people in blue hospital scrubs; and others in white smocks, on break from a nearby bakery, who stood alongside college students, who shifted their backpacks from shoulder to shoulder.
I stayed back while my wife and daughters checked in to vote, and in that moment it struck me: Our daughters, born in China, left along roadsides, and grew up in our family of mixed nationalities, languages and faiths, were voting for who would be the next president of the United States and their city council member. And their votes would count the same as any cast by a Nobel prize winner or a billionaire.
There are so many ways to express opinions these days. But are we being heard, or just adding one more roar to a hubbub of opinions that ding us on screen, to be flicked aside?
When someone votes, they put their hands on the true lever of power in a democracy.
My wife and daughters completed their ballots at about the same time and slipped them through a slot to be counted. When people around them learned it was the first time our daughters had voted, they broke into applause and cheers. I wept to see them smile back, and thought: God bless America.
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