I am quietly participating in NaBloPoMo, which is essentially a 30 day kick in the pants to publish something here daily. I am tentative, aware that I haven’t posted with that kind of frequency in some time. Looking back I realize it’s been the result of incredible richness and demands in other parts of my life.
The girls have a robust schedule this fall, work has been busy, and our nesting at home has been intense and fruitful. The wood stove has a constant pile of kindling, logs, and authorized-by-the-girls homework assignment fire-starter crumples. The kitchen overflows with vegetables from the market and pickle jars carefully filled by Avery, with things like red lentils and black rice. The laundry room is…as busy as ever.
Today the phone rang nearly off the hook, calls from the Democratic Party. I expect if you’ve been reading here for any length of time, you have deduced that I am a Democrat. Election season is always exciting to me. I dislike the ads as much as the next person, but each time my gratitude for the freedom to vote makes me giddy. We take the girls to the polls with us. We talk to them about the things on the ballot and the significance of the different volunteer representatives that find your name and have you sign in at the appropriate table.
Tonight, one of the election callers asked if I planned to vote, to which I answered that I did. “May we count on your vote for Aaron Woolf?” he asked. I pressed my lips together and moved my head up and down, not a nod, more a nudge to just say it.
“Actually, I am planning to vote for Matt Funiciello. I’ve been a business owner in downtown Glens Falls for more than ten years and have worked alongside Matt.”
“Oh, well, I wish we had a strong Green Party too,” the older gentleman said. Then he asked to talk to Sean. I explained that he was out working in the yard, but that it was also his intention to cast a vote for Matt Funiciello. The man was pleasant and gracious, but I couldn’t help feeling that he was disappointed in me.
We are each aware of the potential consequence of two candidates splitting the vote and leading to the election of another candidate. The persistent calls rocked me a bit. “When do you vote for your preferred candidate? Do you wait until it’s a certain victory?” I asked Sean, frustrated.
We talked about the race and about our feelings for Matt. He has worked with our company, contributed to our efforts downtown, greeted our children and family warmly. He has worked hard over the years. We have laughed and we have sparred. He has been a part of the our lives since we first moved to Glens Falls.
Thursday night, after I dropped Briar off at Sketch for a sewing class, I crossed the library green with Avery and Finley. They were sprinting toward the building, leaves skipping and popping beneath their feet as they sky exploded in a magnificent autumn sunset. I was proud of our town, hopeful about our future, and determined to keep providing opportunities for the girls to experience new things, including speaking their mind.
This week I’ll keep writing and hitting publish. Along the way I’ll be visiting the voting booth. I hope you’ll do the same, regardless of who you choose to support.