Eight years ago, I was commuting to seminary. My official home was with my parents in Midland. My wife (then fiance)  lived across town. I drove back on Election Day to vote. Rose went with us to my polling place and I went with her to hers.

I was fired up to vote. I arrived home in the late afternoon. My parents had to show me the polling place because it was tucked off the main road. My Dad had voted early in the day and my Mom and I still had to vote.

My Mom filled out her card and went on ahead. I filled out mine and brought it to the person at the table. She saw my name and consulted her list. She developed a frown.

“Sir, you’ve already voted,” she said.
“Uh, no I haven’t.”
“We have you marked as voted. I’m sorry.”

I peaked down at the list in front of her to see my name was crossed out. I looked right below it to find my Dad’s name was not.

“My Dad voted this morning. They must have crossed out the wrong name,” I say.

It took consulting those little ballot cards from earlier in the day and locating the one my father filled out before I came within sniffing distance of a ballot. She then crossed out my Dad’s name and proceeded to treat me fairly.

What amazed me was how easily my vote could be removed. A simple mix up. A simple eye-slip. We didn’t do anything wrong. And really, neither did the poll-worker. A mistake is all. But my vote was almost lost.

Of course now Michigan has a brand new voter suppression ID law and this wouldn’t happen. Except if the computer doesn’t work. Or somebody changes the information it contains. Or the card-reader doesn’t work. Or many other potential malfunctions. But a simple eye-slip is prevented!

Back in 2004 we were in Midland, voting in a nice big venue and the people were quite understanding. This year, Rose and I took the kids with us to our polling station: the township hall in St. Clair Township. It was cramped. No “Voting Here” or “Vote Today!” sign out front. The workers seemed on edge. And when I was done, there was no one to put an “I Voted” sticker on my shirt. My first election in which I didn’t get said sticker. I was robbed.