Since it's an election year, Dad has been watching as many debates as he can manage. Even though they sound pretty much the same. The number of players has dwindled, but the accusations and fault-finding fly freely every time. Me, oh my, what a great country.
The Florida primary is Tuesday. I pray there is a clear winner. No recounts, no brawls dragged into court. Since the 2000 hanging chad debacle, we Floridians want some other state to be the fly in the ointment. (Maybe this year it will be North Dakota. I never hear anything about North Dakota. It could use a little publicity.)
Being in rehab, Dad has been wondering how he will get to vote this year. He and Mom take very seriously this privilege that has been fought for and sacrificed for over generations. They love and appreciate this county like nobody else I know.
So, my husband checked into how someone who's not mobile can vote. Turns out you can pick up a form for them to sign that gives you permission to bring them a ballot. My husband got the form, Dad signed it, my husband returned it and was given a ballot.
Then, in a rehab gown with a milkshake nearby, Dad voted.
Since this is normally a private event (notice the curtain pulled between Dad and his roommate), we did what we usually do. We took a picture.
We'll probably never again see anyone actually cast their ballot. It's kind of monumental and touching.
In the Ballpark, this is probably the most significant thing that happened today.