Casting My Vote in Springfield, Vermont

Springfield, Vermont -- This wasn't my first venture into this particular gunfight, but I can tell you voting in the 2008 elections was an experience unlike any other I've previously engaged in.

Having voted in the three previous presidential elections and numerous local ones as well, my experiences have varied -- from utter confidence in my particular choices to complete disdain for all available candidates. Doing most of my voting in Vermont, where I was raised and now reside, voting has always been more of a civic duty to me than a privilege. Vermont's three electoral votes have so little to say in the actual outcome of the presidential election that they seem more like a plea than a voice, but regardless, I've always taken it upon myself to cast my vote.

Voting in Springfield, Vermont, takes place, like many other areas, at a local school, where the large gymnasium can house the booths and provide some shelter from the cold to those who brave the wait. Having read the multiple reports about the expectations of long wait times, I felt it would be more prudent to arrive during mid-day hours, rather than trying to vote during lunch hour or after work, when the lines would likely be their longest. Avoiding lines also meant avoiding making myself vulnerable to long-winded political conversations with other voters trying to pressure me to vote in one direction or another. Upon arrival, I wasn't disappointed, as I had to wait a maximum of twelve minutes for a booth to clear out in order to sequester myself for my own decision. When a booth cleared, I was handed my ballot and proceeded in.

The booth itself was fairly utilitarian, a shade under three feet wide, with the old red, white, and blue curtain still smelling like the basement it had been stored in since the previous election. A small cup of pens sat upon a slanted, metal shelf for voters to use. I myself had brought my own, not wanting to trust that one would be available or even working.

Knowing that I hadn't been privy to much information in regards to the various local politicians running for state congressional seats, sheriffs, or whatnot, I went through those positions first, choosing to align myself along party lines rather than issues I didn't know where any stood. Getting them out of the way would allow me to concentrate more on the task of helping to elect our next president.

Moving on to the presidential column, I was astonished to see how many candidates filled the ballot. We all know there are multiple parties on the ticket, outside of the Republican and Democrat nominees, but rarely have I seen a ballot with so many candidates. From the two stalwarts, to the Independents, Green Party, Libertarians, and Constitutionalists, the ticket looked jumbled and awkward to read, making me wish I had also brought a ruler or a sheet of paper in order to draw a line over to the candidate I wished to vote for. Alas, after double-checking myself to ensure I was in fact voting for the candidate I intended to, I checked off the appropriate box, pulled the musty curtain aside, and exited the booth. With one final act, I stuffed my ballot into the locked metal box placed upon the brown folding table at the door, and exited, once again content that I had done what none of us should take for granted.

Upon my exit, I was questioned by a few folks, one from the local newspaper asking me who I had cast my vote for. I respectively declined the invitation to comment, as I do now, knowing that I made the best decision based on what information I had been given.