There is a last time for everything. In my case, the list of “last time for ….” is a lot longer than the list, “I still can ….”.
Not that I am keeping track.
This is my last time voting in a national election. Why would I waste this grand ceremony in the anonymity of an absentee ballot? That would be too easy. And too dangerous for the nation.
In the last presidential election I was in Bloomington, Indiana and dutifully voted before I left. On election night, we gathered in an upscale watering hole to watch the returns. The race was surprisingly tight. Even in a liberal university town, there were many raucous cheers for the other candidate. My preferred candidate lost and I took full responsibility. Voting by absentee ballot put the big juju on Hilary Clinton. Yes, I am to blame.
This was not the first time a selfish decision caused widespread pain. I watched the Red Sox in both game six and seven of the 1986 World Series. They lost both potentially deciding games . It was the same for game seven in 1975. I resolved never to watch a deciding series game involving the Red Sox. And they won in 2004, 2007, 2013, and 2018. My TV was black each time. You are welcome, Sox fans.
The 2020 presidential election is a pretty big deal. Nevertheless, there was a big temptation to vote by absentee ballot. But this is my time for atonement. Allison showered me up, shaved me up, dressed me up, and loaded me up. Come to think of it, she even filled out my ballot. No sense leaving anything to chance. My fingers were a bit wobbly and my eyes a bit teary. But my vote counted. I certainly want no regrets about this one.
I hope Joe and Kamala thank me someday. They should thank Allison as well.