Remembering Harvard Square
Teenage Slang: A Guide

I Voted


I voted last Thursday.  Despite how much I trust our mailman, I was determined to deposit my ballot in an official ballot box.  The nearest one was at Cambridge City Hall, 1.2 miles away.  It was a crystal-clear-fall day, so I decided to walk.

Actually, I meandered.  I think I stopped at every brilliant red maple tree.  I definitely stopped at the beautiful dahlias taking their last stand.  I read restaurant menus and store closing signs. I smiled at everyone (although I’m not sure if people can tell you if are smiling when you are wearing a mask).

At City Hall, there was no sign directing voters to the box.  Luckily, a man who saw me holding two ballot envelopes asked if I was trying to vote and directed me to the back of the building.  There were no signs there either, but I spied a box about the size of a fire-hydrant that said “official ballot box” and deposited our votes.

In these uncertain times, I want to be sure that my vote is counted.  Please make sure that yours is too.


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I felt the same way and never did when I could vote in person. And then I used to make sure it was accepted and not rejected for some reason. Only then did I feel that my vote counted. It is not a good commentary on the times that I felt so unsure that my vote would count.


Bravo! So many years I’ve been voting and this one seems the most important ever! Also scary. Thank you for your column, always thought provoking.

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