Voting

It's a pleasure to vote in a town small enough that people I know work behind the table and exclaim on my arrival "There's Robley!" almost as if they had been waiting for me.

It's a privilege to vote in an election with an old candidate, a woman, a mixed-race candidate, and a remade man.

It's a pleasure to push the button for my guy and remember what it was like in Birmingham for folks like him when I grew up there in the '50s and '60s.

It's a privilege to walk outside wearing my little "I Voted" sticker.
It's a pleasurable privilege to live in a country where millions of people with widely differing opinions can speak them, finally, in the privacy of a voting booth among other citizens, all without the raucousness of the long campaign.

Tonight, like millions of others, I'll watch the returns and keep my fingers crossed.