Today is Election Day where I live, but I turned in my
ballot more than a week ago. This year’s choices were rather disappointing. I’d
hoped to vote for the one fellow running for a seat on the city council who
wasn’t white and wealthy. But he was disqualified early on for being one minute
late filing a campaign finance disclosure form. One minute late, in an office
whose clocks were set three minutes fast. After that, I wasn’t sure who should get my vote, until one of the candidates showed up at my door. He asked about
my concerns and actually listened as I told him. He shook my hand, looked me in
the eye and told me he wasn’t taking any money from big developers. That
impressed me, as I know he had 49,999 other voters to visit – about five times
as many as when we first moved here.
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