I’ve been around long enough to have voted for Lincoln. Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but not too far off. Maybe it was Grover Cleveland. Hmm, perhaps I’ve lost a few brain cells during this coronavirus debacle.

In any case, here’s the deal: last week we celebrated my dear bride’s birthday in a unique way. Jacqueline and I received our 2020 ballots in the mail and immediately filled them out. Did we mail them back? Hell no. Did we take them to one of the many ballot drop-off boxes that had been placed around the northern part of San Diego County, where we live? Hell no. To make absolutely sure that our ballots would be counted we drove them down to the Registrar of Voters office in the city, a 70-mile round trip from our Oceanside home. We placed them into what I guess was one of those secure diplomatic pouches held by a worker in front of the building, and we felt pretty damn good about it. From there we made the most of the special day by driving home via the coast road, mostly along the beautiful Pacific.

This is arguably the most important election in our country’s history, certainly the most critical in my lifetime. If you haven’t heard this already—and I’m sure you have, a million times—VOTE!

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