Election reflection

Or why I trust election results

While I was on my big road trip in September, I got to see political ads from places where the races are hotter–and PACS and people are spending way more money–than they are near me.

And I know some people are distrustful of the election process. Frankly, I’m not. And here’s why.

I started covering elections before I was old enough to vote. I also got to help in the preparation for a community college referendum.

For the referendum, the college had to foot the bill so part of my job was counting–exactly–the paper ballots for each polling place in the district. It was tedious work, but we had to be precise because we had to ensure that there could be no cheating. No mistakes. No chance for election fraud.

A few years later, I started covering elections in my first jobs. I liked setting up questionnaires for candidates and running them so voters could compare the answers. And I got to show up at one courthouse or another on election night to collect the vote totals.

When a friend of mine took a new job, he recommended me for a national news service that collected election night totals for wire services, as well as print and broadcast media outlets. I never minded waiting until after midnight for the final counts.

It was on election nights, back when a room full of journalists and freelancers would sit around a table in a crowded room, vying to be the first to grab one of the half-dozen phones–back in the landline days–that I learned about election delays and tallying problems.

We learned that the closes polling places to the clerk’s office would usually get counted first. The amounts could be so tiny they would be swallowed up in the later, bigger polling place results.

I learned about snags with voting machines that could slow the counting by long stretches of time while people in the counting room would work to fix whatever jammed one machine or another.

I was never in the counting room, but I accepted the explanations the clerk’s office gave us for the slowdown in releasing results.

I understood that the results, while accurate, didn’t include write-in votes. Those got tallied last and didn’t usually amount to much. Those totals, in fact, were unofficial. They wouldn’t become official until the governmental units–city councils, village boards, school districts, county boards, and so forth–accepted them by the end of November. I can remember going to a few meetings at the end of the month that were scheduled especially to accept the vote counts and determine who (or what referendum) won or lost.

It was that local approval of votes that got passed on to state officials so lists of the folks in charge of our many pieces of government would be accurate.

It was those county results in presidential and Congressional elections that would go on to the state voting authorities to be accepted by them and passed up the ladder to Washington. Illinois’s vote certification day is Dec. 4, 2026. (For other states, check Ballotpedia.)

Congress is scheduled to convene on Jan. 3, 2027, to seat the new House and Senate members.

At that point, the election is official. And over.

Maybe I’m lucky to have lived my entire life in Illinois, and to have had a chance to meet and get to know quite a few county clerks in my newspaper work. But I have yet to meet one who hasn’t taken her or his job seriously when it comes to making sure elections are absolutely fair and error-free.

I even got to hear a presentation–through the League of Women Voters–from the Illinois Election Commission about what they do with the results and how they work to ensure the elections in my state are accurate.

I also have friends from around the state–including in Chicago and Cook County–and I have yet to hear any stories of proven election fraud or of attempts to subvert the process.

Sure, my information is anecdotal. I’ve never looked into voter fraud in any kind of scientific or rigorous way. But my reporting goes back way into the last century. And despite being out of the election coverage loop, I have yet to hear that anything untoward or illegal has happened in my area.

And I am willing to extend my trust to the rest of the country. (And to today’s media and election oversight groups to verify my trust.)

If you want to know more about who runs the elections in your area, I recommend the League of Women Voters as a starting point. And most county clerks and other election officials aren’t opposed to meeting the folks who elected them, and for whom they work. Find out what their office hours are and go say hello. The next week will be pretty busy, so they might appreciate it if you wait until after Nov. 3. But there will be other elections.

Heck, go to a board meeting. Most are boring, but you can learn how they work before they find themselves in the midst of controversy. You can also learn what each board is supposed to handle, how much of your tax dollars they get to spend, and just what the board has direct control of.

Be a smart citizen, and do a little of your own oversight.

À bientôt!

Too busy traveling to write

I haven’t missed a post in a few years, but I’ve been on the road all month and have hardly turned my computer on. I’m between stops today, so, how about a few pictures from my travels?

(Well, I took all the pictures except the one on the Riverwalk boat trip in San Antonio. My friend (and host) Marsha took that one.)

Falling toward fall

Tom Fisk/Pexels

Are you a take-it-easy-in-the-summer-and-jump-back-in-when-it’s-over type? Or are you an everything-else-slows-down-so-I-revel-in-summertime kind of person?

Personally, I always get antsy for a refresh when autumn gets close. I guess my rhythms are still tied to the school year. I want new books and new pencils and new calendars. And I want to think about new stories, which makes it hard to focus on the fixes I need in my work-in-progress.

This year, I’ll be on the road for my refresh-month. Instead of staring at my keyboard, watching words stretch across the screen, I’ll be squinting at my GPS and trying to get on the road early until I reach my destination–wherever that may be.

I am looking forward to the time at the end of the road, visiting family and friends. But I still hope to squeeze in some time on my writing. I hope that doesn’t sound too selfish. But I have been waiting all my life to put stories to words, to polish my prose until it resembles poetry.

I’m inspired by stands of corn turning yellow, and by leaves, curling and crimson. By vivid red sumac leaves. And those first days of rime on the marigolds.

I want a pinch of purple prose in my life. But a pinch every day.

When I retired–and I’ve said this before–I was so used to being busy I volunteered for a dozen or more “small jobs” for groups I belong to or thought I could help. It took most of my time for four years. (I can hardly believe I’ve been retired for going on five years. They’ve flown.) But last fall the inkling of “spare time” glimmered on my personal horizons. I’ve gone back to the beginning. (See my February and March posts for details, if you’re curious.) I’ve replanned the novel I decided to focus on at Bouchercon in New Orleans last September. And I’ve been inching toward a much revised draft since then.

Inching because I’ve still let a few “small jobs” slip into my life. One has had me looking for free (or reduced price) illustrations since last spring. I am reworking some small booklets, but even though I have words on the new templates, I have yet to find appropriate new illustrations. That’s the biggest new job I’ve taken on. And when it’s done, it’s done.

Another new task (Note to IRS: one with a small paycheck) is a feature story for a trade publication. That could go on indefinitely, but it’s not too time consuming so far, and I enjoy doing it.

But none of that sates my annual urge to curl up with a good book–even if I’m “curling” at my computer and writing my own book. And this year, as I gear up in my usual way, I will be putting the brakes on my progress.

I’ve talked with some of my writing buddies. They are supportive, encouraging me to try to write at least one sentence every day while I’m gone. We’ll see how that works. I’m hopeful. And my fingers would be crossed, but it’s hard to type that way.

À bientôt!

Summer time, slack time

Pexels photo by Shameel Mukkath

July has been a fast, lazy month. I had high hopes of getting a lot done, but my eyes have not been as “back to normal” as I’d hoped after my cataract operations. Yes, I can see well, but my eyes seem to tire more easily than I remember them doing in the past. So, I don’t have the staying power on my computer. That’s slowing down progress on my novel, as well as a couple of projects I’ve taken on for others.

I did have a great few hours with my youngest and his family when they came through on their way north for a couple weeks. I hope next year they’ll have time to stay for a couple of days.

I have made small but measurable progress on my decluttering, and on getting estimates for some house maintenance. All things that need to get done.

But I feel like the month has just slipped away with little to show for it.

I didn’t even really like any of my book club reads this month. Not liking them, of course, doesn’t mean I didn’t learn from them. Mostly I learned things I wouldn’t want to do myself.

I’ve had some fun this month reading the Victoria Thompson Gaslight Mysteries. I’m almost to the end of the ones she wrote before she died, just in time, I’ve learned for the one her daughter is releasing this fall. It seems Ellen Thompson finished her mother’s last book, City of Promises, thus keeping a promise.

Friends and I have been talking about the success and failure of various franchises being kept alive after the original author’s death. Most of my friends, it turns out, don’t think the efforts have been worthwhile. Personally, as someone who didn’t know until I was an adult just how many Carolyn Keenes there were, I’m ambivalent about continuations. Apparently as many as 20 authors wrote the Nancy Drew mysteries. I didn’t read many of them, but from what I read, I could detect no significant differences.

I’ve read a few of Sophie Hannah’s Poirot stories. She was officially approved by Agatha Christie’s heirs to write new novels. I might read more, but so many books…

I have yet to try Robert Goldsborough’s additions to the Nero Wolfe series. Again, the heirs of Rex Stout approved his continuation. I had not read any Nero Wolfe stories when I met Goldsborough at the last Love is Murder conference in Chicago years ago. He was a charming man, and the conversations I had with him sent me to the original stories. I haven’t yet finished them, so I may get to the new books eventually.

But the book club novels this summer have been in genres I wouldn’t have picked in my own. Or, sadly, they’ve been poor examples of the genres I like. For the most part they’ve wound up in the “unfinished” bin.

How am I doing all this reading while my eyes are still bothering me? Ah, that’s the wonder of audiobooks. I began reading them in the car while I commuted to work years ago and I’ve almost completely converted.

I did actually read Molly MacRae’s recent Haunted Shell Shop Mystery, All Shell Breaks Loose. That was as much fun as its two predecessors. In this one, Maureen, the shell shop owner, and her personal ghost, Emrys, an 18th century pirate who died off the coast of Okracoke, North Carolina, meet another spectral visitor. The new ghost is tied metaphysically to a sword that is used in a 21st century murder. Molly’s books are generally fun cozies, good for light summer reading and for curl-up-with-cocoa winter reading. I always recommend her books.

I also read Jacqueline Winspear’s latest, The White Lady. Hers are a bit weightier, in both subject matter and length, than a cozy mystery. In this one, we range from Belgium during the first World War, to England and France during the second, and back to England in early post-WWII years. The main character is a quietly fearsome woman who finds herself connected to London mobsters in order to protect the young family who are her neighbors. I gather it’s a stand-alone although I could see room for additional stories featuring Elinor White (or Elinor De Witt or “Miss White”). It has some gruesome and dangerous war scenes, but Winspear has never shied away from the realities of war in her books.

So, that’s where my July has gone. And I haven’t even brewed a big batch of my summertime favorite iced tea. Well, there’s still August.

À bientôt!

Art in cooking

After deciding last month that my artist dates don’t have to be more solo time, I really enjoyed a bus trip with my sister and a bunch of other women to a few stops in Middleton, Wisconsin. The first stop, and the place where I took part in some cooking art, was Frostwood Farms Kitchen.

An event space, the restaurant buys some of its locally-sourced produce from St. Isadore’s Garden in Fitchburg, Wisconsin, a few miles to the southeast. St. Isadore’s is part of the St. Vincent de Paul Society, where the garden also supplies food for its foodbank.

Sharon’s photos

On the day we visited the restaurant, we were treated to fresh chips and St. Isadore salsa with tomatoes from the garden and a fabulous raspberry mind spritz mocktail. (I had two.) Lunch was a melt-in-your-mouth, marinated, grilled flank steak with garlic and herb butter, all served atop an heirloom cherry tomato salad with baby mozzarella cheese, arugula lettuce, red onion and cucumber drizzled with a balsamic dressing.

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