I got up early to take care of the first of a longer list of tasks that stretched out across the day. One of them was what I have been threatening you with for a few days, an account of the last cruise of the IJN battleship Nagato. I wasn’t feeling that good about getting to it yesterday, either, and it turned out I was right.
Before I left, checked the map to confirm the directions to the polling station so I could cast my first in-person vote in Culpeper County.
The polling station is at Lignam, a hamlet located about 13 miles east of the farm on the Germanna Highway. As I left the house with a go-cup of coffee the sky was just coming gray with pre-dawn, a magical time in the country. There was a low mist on the fields, mirroring the rising light.
I changed my registration last year, tired of having only the choice between socialists and state socialists up in Arlington, and the vague suspicion that my vote against them was not going to count anyway. This is an entirely different political landscape, in which a significant chunk of intensely conservative voters have triangulated the mainstream GOP.
This county is where an unknown academic named Dave Brat overthrew Eric Cantor, house Majority leader in the last cycle. It is an interesting mix of reaction, tradition and an increasing progressive segment led by refugees from the political legacy of what they did in Northern Virginia. They say Culpeper is the New Loudoun, after all, God help us.
Whether my vote counted or not, in Arlington, I only had to walk over to Culpeper Gardens, the assisted living center kitty-corner across Pershing Drive from Big Pink. I would normally be awake and crashing around long before six, when the polls open, and would go over to be the first or second voter at the door to the activities center where the voting machines were located. Except for Presidential elections, I don’t think I ever waiting more than a couple minutes to exercise the franchise.
Casting this vote was much more of a production number, and I had never been to the Methodist Church that County election officials have designated as the polling station. I had felt a rising anxiety all week up in Arlington as I tried to research the candidates and issues down on the farm. Except for our local butcher, I didn’t know anyone personally on the ballot, and from what I could glean from the Clarion-Bugle, this was going to be the longest slate of candidates in twenty years.
Thankfully, I discovered I did not have to learn anything about the City Council- we out in the hustings have only a state senator and House of Delegates representative up for re-election and both were unopposed. The Senate seat was of interest, since there was a huge controversy about the two-seat GOP majority there that had defanged our term-limited Governor. The House is heavily dominated by the Republicans, so the growing influence of Blue NoVA was going to be put to the test.
The rest of the County-wide elections were a little more interesting. The two big ones were for Sheriff and Commonwealth Prosecutor. In the former, the incumbent was the fellow who thinks the Department needed an armored capability, and procured a surplus MRAP for his inventory. The latter office had been accused of taking a swing at one of the IT personnel in the office, something I have often been tempted to do myself.
There was no traffic on the farm lane, but a fair amount on the James Madison Highway leading down to the Germanna Higway, the major east-west thoroughfare was filled with the headlights of traffic trying to get north to the sprawl of Northern Virginia.
Traffic moved briskly, and Ii was a whisker before dawn as I swung into the parking lot of the church, and there were pick-up trucks parked strategically with signs for the various candidates.
I walked into the foyer, and the desk was unattended. A distinguished looking African-American woman was the Precinct Captain, and she waved me into the large Fellowship Hall that probably serves as the coffee and doughnut center after Sunday services. She looked at my military ID and voter registration card and asked my full name and address, which I remembered regardless of the hour. She made a check on her list and handed me a plain green card.
The entire election team of four workers were female and very friendly and courteous.
One of them presided over the two touch-screen electronic machines. I don’t trust the things, but that is what the system uses. I handed over the card and punched in my selections, only three of which were contested.
I voted against the incumbents, of course. They call it a democracy and I insist on it.
When I was done, I thanked all four on the way out for their service. In my experience, working an election is a long day, starting well before the formal opening at 0600 and lasting long after the closing at 1900. Exiting the church, I walked over to the pickup truck with the sign advertising a candidate for Sheriff. “Tell me why I just voted for your guy?” I asked. The woman looked at me, briefly confused, then smiled and handed me a postcard with all the issues listed that I no longer needed to be concerned about.
I told her it was a magnificent morning, and got in the Panzer to drive back to the farm. The bulk of Mount Pony marked my destination, and the colors on the trees was magnificent as the sun first peeked above the horizon. I knew it was going to be a great day. There was not a cloud in the sky, the temperature was unseasonably comfortable, and the list of things to accomplish was one shorter.
Still on the menu was the drive up North, a luncheon meeting, one o’clock conference call, happy hour at Front Page and the first meeting of the Big Pink Book Club that I was hosting at my place in the evening.
I decided to put on the dog for the book club. I had not entertained for years, it seems, and the good wine glasses needed a good washing anyway.
I don’t remember what books we selected- after voting yesterday morning, a cancelled lunch meeting on the way back up from the farm, a 1300 conference call in which I attempted to sound alert, a bustling afternoon digging out the fancy crap for the table, happy hour at the Front Page with TLB, Jon-without, John-with and JPeter, then the book club meeting at 1930.
It is all cleaned up now, dishwasher run and unloaded- along with the slightly tardy look at the office calendar in which I realized to my horror that I was late to an maintenance appointment at the local Ford dealer for the P-71 Police Interceptor. Whew.
When I got back from the mad dash to make the appointment, I checked the Clarion-Bugle for the election results. My guy for Sheriff didn’t win, so I guess the Armored Police will be around for a while. My Commonwealth Attorney did win, and he swore not to hit any information technology personnel. Our Butcher was re-elected as the Eastern District Drains Commissioner, and unpaid position.
I smiled. It is kind of cool to go two-out-of-three. That never happened in Arlington. This democracy thing is kind of cool.
Copyright 2015 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com
Twitter: @jayare303