The polling-booth line was already out the door at 6 am when I arrived to vote. Some Bethelites had arrived at 5:15 am to be able to vote and get to work or make trains on time. The rule prohibiting campaigning near the voting area meant that no one wore campaign buttons or t-shirts, so I had no idea about peoples’ voting preferences. Even as we sleepily joked about someone’s doing a coffee run, I was aware of the seriousness of our purpose. We had come to the voting booth determined both to have our say and to deal with whatever came at the end of the day. We were Americans, awake at this hideous hour, doing sacred work. The day wore on with extreme fatigue, and I, not knowing of course how the elections would turn out, nonetheless left “away messages” on my g-mail and instant message accounts that said “God bless America.” To some it may sound overly dramatic, but I am deadly serious: except for Israel , to which I have a strong attachment, I cannot imagine a country as magnificent...
Because cantors talk, too.