Voter #2

That's my nickname for today. Ever since I moved to South Philly, I've made it a goal to be the first voter in the neighborhood. Today I came close, but one lady beat me. She wasn't very happy. As she left the school that serves as our polling place, she opened the door for me and said, "Ay, Madonna, what a mess." (Check out this page from about.com for more Italian curse words!)

Voting in South Philly follows a pattern, I've noticed. Four or five frail-looking Italian grannies with books of voter's names before them. One middle-aged man running from booth to booth trying to figure out why the electricity has failed. Men attached to oxygen tanks, dragging walkers down steps and asking for help because they can't see the candidates' names. Animated confusion about who's who and what's what. A good, old fashioned Italian mess.

I wouldn't have it any other way. I've always been grateful for the right to vote, all the more since I moved to Pennsylvania from Washington, DC, where residents have no voting rights. Right before I left, DC Council passed legislation allowing us to get licence plates that say "Taxation Without Representation." Now that I'm here, I take as many opportunities as I can to use my vote, even when it's a fait accompli, as it is today. We all know hell would freeze over before Philly elected a Republican mayor.

So if you haven't voted yet today, please get out there and do it. It's one of the last ways you can make your voice heard.