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I voted this week. My husband and I were sitting in our living room in our sweats reading up on propositions. and voting blue for all of the candidates.
I stopped, as I always do when I vote, to remember my mom.
She was born Wailaki, on a reservation, and didn't register, and feel like it was safe for her to try to vote until she was over 40 years old.
In 1968 she didn't want to go to the polling place alone so, as a ten year old, I tagged along.
I remember distinctly that she put on her best dress with hose and high heels. She wore her black wool coat with a mink collar. We had to walk to the polling place because she didn't drive.
She was very nervous.
With her giant leather purse in one hand and my hand in her other we stood in front of the school for a minute and then went in.
She voted with me in the booth.
I don't think she missed another election in her lifetime.
I honor her when I vote.