Primary Day 2019

If you have not done so already, please go out and vote. It's important--now more than ever. (And for those wondering: No, I did not vote twice today. Although, if I had, I'd be following in the "proud" tradition of many Chicagoans before me.

Election Day 2018

I voted on the way to work this morning. Did you?

On the Way to Work This Morning 3/30/15

Every Picture Tells a Story 2/24/15

Today is the day of the mayoral primary in Chicago. In my neighborhood, there are quite a few signs for Jesus "Chuy" Garcia (like the sign pictured above at the Francisco Brown Line stop). There are signs here and there for Alderman Bob Fioretti. I've even seen signs for businessman Willie Wilson.

How many signs have I seen for our current mayor, Rahm Emanuel? Exactly none. Know why? Because nobody really likes him. Will he get re-elected? Probably.

However, if he does not get more than 50% of the vote today, he'll have to participate in a runoff in April with the runner-up (probably Garcia).

So if you vote today, please do your city a favor: Vote for someone--anyone--but Rahm Emanuel. He may still get re-elected, he would have to work a lot harder to stay on this fifth floor of City Hall, rather than getting the office as a gift he most assuredly does not deserve.

Election Day

I voted today. Did you? If not, then I don't want you complaining about the machinations in Washington. Or the shenanigans in Springfield. Or any damn thing relating to politics. You want the right to bitch? Then don't give up your right to vote. You don't like the way things are? Do something to try and change things. Your vote matters, no matter whom you vote for, no matter whether you're motivated by the economy or social issues or the relative quality of the candidates. Your vote matters. Get out there and cast it.

80%

That's how many eligible voters in Chicago actually cast ballots, according to projections published in this morning's Sun-Times--roughly in line with projections for the state as a whole (75-80%) and well ahead of the projected national average (64%).

Bravo, Windy City, bravo.

As for the 20% of you who didn't vote...where the hell were you while history was being made?

I don't have anything particularly profound to say about the election itself, though. The results pretty much speak for themselves with far more eloquence than anything I could add.

Rock the Vote

The line serpentines across the elementary school auditorium floor, from the well-worn folding tables at the front to the large standing fan in the back. The people in it at this early hour (just right of 7 a.m.) are not of one race, one color, one creed, one age. There are African-American women and Polish-American men. There are young couples with strollers and elderly couples with walkers and canes. There are quite a few very cute women and at least one devastating redhead.

But I'm not here for the architecture, the cross-section of humanity or even the devastating redhead. We're all here for the same purpose. We're here to vote.

The line snakes slowly forward. There is a row of folding chairs; some voters take a seat, some stand and shift weight from one foot to the other, some flip through paperbacks to pass the time. Occasionally, someone jumps out of our line and into the other, shorter line for the other precinct voting in the auditorium. Seems one of the election volunteers--a silver-haired man in gray sweats--has been sending voters to the wrong line. More than one election judge gets up to chastise him; he looks entirely befuddled by their ire.

Even with such delays, the line moves on until it's my turn at the folding table. My ID is out. My address and signature are verified. I'm given a ballot the size of an infant's blanket. I head for an empty booth.

The system is an odd one--with a black pen given to you by the election judge ("Please return the pen when you're finished voting," she asks politely--apparently, this has been a big enough problem that, in previous elections, polling places have run out of pens), you fill in the space between the arrowhead and arrowtail to indicate the candidate of your choice. Reminds me of all those tests I took in elementary school--appropriate given the location, I suppose.

My vote is cast. My ballot is fed into the machine. It does not error out. I walk out into the unseasonably warm November morn know that not only have I proudly done my civic duty, but that many, many others before and after me were doing the same.