VOTING FOR THE FIRST TIME

I first voted when I was twenty-three. Up until that time, I've always considered it too much of a hassle, a waste of time, uninteresting, unimportant. How naive I was! If it wasn't for my very persuasive friend Bob, I probably would not yet have voted to this day. He made me realize that voting is very important. Not only did he convince me to vote, he also changed my entire outlook on the idea of voting and why people actually do it.

It all started when we were on our way out of Safeway, me carrying charcoal briquettes, Bob toting a small can of lighter fluid. Just before the door on the way out was a small card-table, two middle-aged women seated at it.

"What are they doing?" I asked, "Selling some kind of raffle tickets?"

"Naw, that's where you register to vote," Bob said casually. That's when I noticed the small sign, taped to the wall behind them, exclaiming: "The '84 vote - you can make a difference!"

"Oh," I said, my mind on the barbecue about to commence on the patio of my apartment. Although it was November, we had been blessed with a beautiful, warm sunny day, so the idea of a barbecue popped into our heads.

Bob looked my way. "You've registered haven't you?"

"No."

"NO?!" Bob exclaimed. The two women, as well as nearly everybody at the check stands, stared our way, looking at us as though we were completely naked.

"Be quiet, man! So what? I haven't registered! What's the big deal?"

"What's the big deal? You don't understand!" Bob's eyes widened and his face turned totally serious, a look that meant his opinion was about to be declared drastically. "You have to vote! Don't you care who our next governor is? Don't you care if the next president wants to raise our taxes to kingdom come? What about schooling? And the senate? It's very impor..."

"All right, all right," I said, interrupting him to prevent the whole store from gathering around us, "I'll register, okay?"

And I did. At first, I regretted it. Bob always seemed to stress things too much at times. On the way home, when I told him that I had no idea what Initiative 405 was about, he went nuts. Before we reached my apartment, he pulled his Ford Pickup into the Post Office to obtain a voter's pamphlet, explaining the issues and who was running for what. At the time, I felt like starting the barbecue with that pamphlet, but I didn't. Bob made sure of that.

Throughout the barbecue, Bob kept pressing the voting issue and he was getting on my nerves, especially since I was trying to enjoy the barbecue and keep my girlfriend entertained. We ended up in my living room about an hour later, listening to the stereo and watching television. Amazingly enough, Bob did not bring up the subject of voting until it was time for him and his girlfriend to leave.

I was in the kitchen sorting out some dirty dishes when Bob walked up to me with a book in his hand. It was a dictionary, a "Webster's New Students Dictionary" that my mother had given to me on my twenty-second birthday, hoping it would help me with college courses. Bob had it opened to a certain page and he looked me square in the eye, very serious, before he read me the definition of one word.

"Vote," he said, reading the small black print, "A formal expression of opinion or will; one given as an indication of approval or disapproval of a proposal or a candidate for office." I was going to say something, but he continued: "Look friend, tomorrow's your last chance to vote, to stand up for how you think this county, city, or even country should be run. Voting is a very important privilege and although it's universal, it's free societies like the one we live in today that make me feel great, knowing that I have a definite say about how things should be done. How about you?"

I said nothing. He handed me the voter's pamphlet, said good-by, then left. Later, I took my girlfriend home, and when I returned, I thought of what Bob had said. He definitely had a good point. I looked to my left. There, on my small coffee table, was the voter's pamphlet. I felt as though it was staring at me, daring me to read through it's contents. This made me feel silly and a little frustrated, so I immediately sat down on the couch and grabbed the pamphlet rather aggressively. Okay, all right - let's see what all this voting stuff is about.

It took a while before I really began to become interested in what that pamphlet had to offer. My reading of it began slow, soaking up knowledge of the presidential candidates (which were more numerous than I would have ever imagined), the onto the hopeful senators-to-be. By the time I reached the congressmen (and women), I was deeply involved. To me, it was amazing to learn that so many different people and issues had so many different outlooks on life. I went back to the beginning and started over. Democrats and Republicans, Independents and Communists - everybody seemed to be running for office! Port Commissioners, Senators, School levies, initiatives galore! Later, I found myself with pencil in hand, jotting down my decisions on a piece of notebook paper, of who or what to vote for. I never thought I would ever be doing this. That night, my outlook on society had changed. When I found an issue that expressed myopinion, my pencil wrote it down. This made me think of Bob and of what he had to say before he left. I still felt his persistent nature to get me to vote was a bit extreme, but he made quite an impression. People should vote, and the next day, the fire station (where I've heard the voting takes place) would find me expressing my beliefs.

I had the next day off and for some reason, I woke up feeling a little excited. I ate breakfast, grabbed the piece of paper declaring my voting decisions, got in my Volkswagen Beetle and drove to the fire station. I was in a good mood, knowing that I was about to cast, what I felt, were my first important votes as a citizen, ever.

There were not as many people in the lines to the various voting booths as I would've thought, but there were enough. I kept having the feeling that everybody was staring at me as though they were thinking: "Oh my God! Look at him! He's never voted before!"

However, once inside the booth and the curtain closed behind me, my mind focused only upon the many levers waiting for me to proceed. I found that I did not need my list of designated choices. The levers flipped one after the other, choosing a presidential candidate, congressmen, senators, and every other issue that I felt needed my support.

When I had finished, I stood back just a bit and checked my decisions before I pulled the big lever on the right, the one that would register my votes for good. I smiled and felt great. That's me! I thought. That's what I believe in - my opinion! And with that, I pulled the big lever and exited the booth.

I was surprised to see Bob leaning against my car once I was outside the fire station. He was smiling.

"Ah-ha!" he said, "I knew you would come. I came by to vote and lo and behold! Look who else is here!"

"Yeah, you were right," I said, "Voting is important. From now on, I'm going to whenever I need to."

Bob laughed, suggested seeing a movie later, then entered the fire station to express his legal right. As I watched him go inside, I felt thankful that he had been so pushy. I was also a little ashamed, remembering how I had once felt about the whole idea of voting. My mind recalled the night before. Hearing if what I had voted for had won, would make the effort to study the issues well worth my time. This made me realize that voting is not too much of a hassle, uninteresting or unimportant. On the contrary; it is necessary.

THE END

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