My own earliest memory is of accompanying my father to a polling booth in Columbus, Ohio, where he voted for William McKinley. It was a drab and somewhat battered tin shed set on wheels, and it was filled with guffawing men and cigar smoke....A fat, jolly man dandled me on his knee and said I would soon be old enough to vote against William Jennings Bryan. I thought he meant that I could push a folded piece of paper into the slot of the padlocked box as soon as my father was finished. When this turned out not to be the true, I had to be carried out of the place kicking and screaming.This morning just after 7:00 I found my polling place's parking lot crowded with pickup trucks and the interior surprisingly busy. Neighbors were greeting each other and some laughter may have bubbled up, but I saw no overt politicking, no guffawing men smoking cigars. All the precinct workers were women of a certain age; I was the only female voter in the place, but it was early and I'm sure more will follow. I pushed a piece of paper through a slot in a padlocked ballot scanner, but only after a card reader scanned my driver's license and I signed my name on an electronic pad. Best of all, no one was carried in or out kicking and screaming.
(That comes later, after the results are released.)