I love Election Day. I love the palpable energy in the air, the camaraderie with strangers at the polls, the little red stickers that are so trivial, but mean so much, and the heightened sense of patriotism that we really do live in the greatest country in the world.
And, on a smaller scale, I’ve been so impressed with Minneapolis this year.
With the hordes of people I know fighting like hell to make sure nobody’s told that it’s illegal to marry the person they love.
With an internationally-known art museum by my house that’s brave enough to take a stand.
With the determination of hundreds of people waiting outside for two hours on a cold, gloomy November morning to vote for what they believe in.
With the unanimous vote of those same cold, crabby people to wave a wizened old man with a walker to the front of the very long line.
And with the old man himself, who was slowly shuffling to the end of it, determined to keep doing his civic duty, even though his body’s not what it used to be.
This election (like all the rest of them) has been incredibly divisive, but there’s something so, so satisfying about coming together as a community and casting votes manually. Not on the computer, not via iPhone, but on a paper ballot, in an ancient neighborhood church, in this city I love so much.
It’s freezing outside, but I’m feeling warm and fuzzy inside.