I voted this morning in the bluest of polling stations — Walt Whitman High School in Bethesda, Maryland. It took a little more than an hour. To my eyes, the turnout did not exceed 2004, when hatred of President Bush drove white liberals to the polls in great numbers. There is essentially no African-American representation in my precinct and no college within its boundaries, so the same folks are turning out to what I suspect is the extent. The only difference is that they seem happier this time around.
I did see at least one McCain voter — my older daughter. I remember taking her to the same polling place in 1992, when she was seven, to watch me vote. I snuck her into the booth with me.
John likes to say that there are some pleasures that you only get to experience only at an advanced age. Seeing your daughter (or son) getting ready to vote in a presidential election is one of them.
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