I interrupted my morning walk to do my civic duty. I arrived at the voting center about 6:45. Marie, who has donated about 80 CDs to me, was manning the first desk. What a great gig - a break for lunch and dinner and a $200 stipend. True, it's a long day, but she has only a five minute walk home. Unfortunately, my station was at the rear of what is normally the student cafeteria of the elementary school. I knew where I was supposed to sign in immediately. The guy running the section lives in my building. My friend Arlynn introduced me to him months ago and since then he has never acknowledged me. Maybe he would be embarrassed to be seen with someone who operates a floating book shop. Suffice to say, I'm not crazy about him. He was throwing a little hissing fit, grumbling about the disorganization, unable to find the address booklets, threatening to storm off and to sue if he wasn't compensated. A supervisor helped him locate the things he needed. I handed him the card I'd received in the mail months ago and, sure enough, I wasn't listed in the book. This had happened several years ago and the workers had me fill out a paper ballot. He didn't know enough to suggest this. I dumped the card in the trash and walked away, accepting it as fate. I will be crushed if the Democrat wins by one vote. If the Republican wins, I will not feel slighted at having been denied participation in the victory. It will still be fun to see the Democrats agonize. I'm expecting the left to rally and save the seat, which has always been in their hands and filled by a Jew for decades. The Republican candidate is Catholic.
Old Faithful, Susan, bought the remaining eight children's books I had. A young mom bought four of the books on knitting, which are almost gone too. A young man took Stephen King's immense The Dark Tower VII. And another guy from my building picked up Mary Higgins Clark's I'll Be Seeing You. His is a sad story. A pharmacist with a genius IQ, he was diagnosed with mental illness at 40. Although he has lost a lot of weight, he still moves carefully and with difficulty. He no longer works and he lives with his mom. His dad passed away a few years ago. I used to refer to his parents in my mind as "The Smokers," as they were always puffing away whenever I saw them. Things must be tough for them financially, as I've seen the mother and son bumming cigarettes and sharing them. Maybe things get tight for them at the end of the month.
Thanks, folks. It's always great when the crates are a lot lighter on the way back to the car.
Read Vic's stories, free: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
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