A funny thing happened on the way to the voting booth

Over the years I’ve heard in the news about people who were very upset when they’ve had problems voting. I had always thought maybe they were overreacting. But then it happened to me. I have voted without fail ever since I was 18 years old, except maybe for a year or two when I was out of the country. Suddenly, I’ve fallen off the rolls at the same polling place, the Chester Town Hall, where I’ve voted ever since moving to Sugar Loaf seven years ago. I said there must be a mistake. No, the election inspector said. You’re not there. She asked for my voter registration card. In my younger days I would carry it with me but stopped because I’d never been asked to show it. I showed my driver’s license instead. Then I filled out a paper ballot. I wasn’t thrilled that my political party was printed on the outside of the envelope. The inspector, who was polite and conscientious, told me the ballot itself would remain secret. I simply had to seal the envelope after filling it out. “Will my ballot be counted?” I asked. “Yes,” the inspector said, “but not with tonight’s vote.” Her best guess was that my ballot would arrive at the board of elections in Goshen the next day. I ran home and called the board of elections. “What’s going on?” I asked. The woman who answered did her best to help. She said the board of elections had sent out mail check cards to verify voters’ mailing and residential addresses. The Sugar Loaf Post Office returned my mail check card to the board, saying I wasn’t there. Apparently a post office box I had before the street I live on was dedicated, some five or six years ago, had suddenly re-appeared on the board’s records. A further check revealed that my old post office number and my street address were both on the books. Why is this happening now, I asked, when I’ve voted from this residence in every election for so many years? My call was passed on to David Green, the Republican elections commissioner. He was polite but didn’t seem to understand why I was upset. I asked when my vote would be counted. He said the counting would start on Nov. 17 and would probably be finished by Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving? There are bags and bags of paper ballots, he said — 322 of them, to be exact. They include absentee ballots, emergency affadavit ballots, and special ballots. They couldn’t possibly be counted by the next day. The records did show that I voted in every election since moving to Sugar Loaf. Still, I was put into the category of “inactive voter.” Because my vote wouldn’t be counted with the rest, I felt as though I wasn’t participating in this election at all. My ballot was in a bag on the floor with a bunch of others, too many to count that night. Clerical mistakes happen. It’s not the end of the world. Not wanting to overdramatize the problem, I reasoned that my vote would count, just a few weeks late. But it doesn’t feel good. It made me realize more than ever the poignancy and beauty of a vote. I wondered how people could ever intentionally skip voting. I covered election night at the Trailside Pub in Chester, where Republicans were gathered to get the returns. Within minutes I’d spoken to two people who told me of similar occurrences. My next-door neighbor went through the same experience I had — sitting at a table in the Chester Town Hall, filling out a paper ballot, not knowing how it had happened. Candidate Steve Neuhaus said his grandmother had the same problem the first time he ran for office two years ago. She never got to vote for him because she died in the meanwhile. It’s not only voters who are affected when all ballots cannot be immediately counted. On this election night, two candidates for the county legislature, Dimitrios Lambros and Noel Spencer, are separated by only 37 votes. Those blue canvas bags filled with ballots must be on their minds, too.