This morning I participated in history. I walked into the Midland Park, New Jersey Public Library, the polling site for my district. Three elderly ladies staffed the table where I signed the voter log and received a paper ticket indicating my eligibility to vote. I stepped up to the voting machine (there was no line) and handed another elderly attendant my ticket. She threaded the ticket onto a long string full of tickets. I walked through the curtain and paused for a moment to consider the privilege I was about to exercise. In a moment I would press a button to submit my vote for (arguably) the most powerful political job in the world. The campaign had been fierce and both sides offered wonderfully path-breaking choices — a black man for President or a woman for Vice President. There were no guns. There was no blood, no fear, no coercion. Just me and some buttons. I made my choices and left in peace. History won’t remember my vote, but it will remember this day.
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