It’s time to vote, and I’m reminded of my mother’s joy at casting her ballot – San Gabriel Valley Tribune

I honestly thought about bringing my “I Voted” sticker to my mother’s grave. Actually, I did bring it. I just didn’t leave it because I knew that she would say to wear it and remind other people to vote. “No one will see it if you leave it here.” So if you run into me on the street, look for my proof of voting sticker. 

From the time I was young, she let me know the importance of voting. Mom didn’t drive and we had to take a bus to the polls. There were no organized volunteers, driving people to the polls in our suburban Virginia neighborhood.

We lived in a corner house at the bottom of an uphill street. The bus stop was at the top of the street. It was an outing I looked forward to, maybe partly because I knew I would get ice cream at the end, but mostly because it was fun walking up the street with her, talking and taking the bus together. 

She did not talk about the candidates. In fact, when I was very small, I probably wouldn’t have known who they were. But she did talk about the importance of voting, and although it was a privilege of freedom in our country, it was not so everywhere in the world. It left me thinking that even though I was a little dot in a big world, I could still make a difference. I still think of voters as little dots making a big difference.

If anyone had asked me in those days whether my mother was a member of the Democratic or Republican party, I would probably have said that she was a member of the Voting Party. That’s what I knew her to be.

In later years, I knew my mother would have loved to volunteer at the polls, but the distance made it impossible. However, her dream was finally fulfilled when she was 85 and I convinced her to move from Virginia to a retirement home near me in California. In addition to being a residential home for the aging, the Scripps Home in Altadena, sadly gone now, was a polling place for the neighborhood. 

Finally, my mother’s time had come. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as happy or proud as on the day I visited her while she was working at the polls at Scripps. I came by about noon, but she had been working since 6 AM and stayed until the polls closed. Then she volunteered to stay later and help count ballots.

If there is voting in the afterlife, I’m sure Mom will be working the polls.

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