Small Town Voting

Small Town Voting

So I went off to vote this morning — we vote at the fairgrounds here, and as always, the act of voting restored some of my confidence in the American people. There we all were — ranchers in their muck boots, my fellow Democratic activists, the guy who fixes boilers, and next to me, a very very very old woman (who said “God Bless You” to the election worker as she handed over her ballot to go through the counting machine). It was, to say the least, a diverse group.

And yet, was there shouting? Was there tension? Were people giving dirty looks at those they thought might not be “real” Americans? (And this *is* a town where one of the people running for Sherriff is involved with a cult who disavows the “sovereignty” of the Federal and State governments).

Nope. There was a lot of nodding, and holding of the front door, and exchanges of “Good Morning.” Sort of like Jon Stewart’s Holland Tunnel analogy the other day — first you go, then I go, then he goes. The media is telling us we’re all riven and screaming at one another, when in reality, we’re all just doing what we’ve always been doing — working, taking our kids to school, doing our civic duty.

And just because I love this piece so much — here’s my friend Scott McMillion, with a video essay he did for PBS about voting in Livingston: Voting in Small Town Montana

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