It was a reminder of what is best about our nation and what’s bad about me. 

I honestly had forgotten whose turn it was to buy breakfast. In my defense, it was a bit of a grey area — I bought last time but all Steve had was a muffin. Last time Steve paid, I put an omelette, a cup of Joe and a pound of Sumatra coffee beans on his open tab. If I did not stop to make a phone call just before I entered the diner, we could have each pleaded our case of who should pay. As it were, he had already given his credit card to the server and told her I was on the dole.  

Now granted, my weaseling a free breakfast burrito is no reflection of the greatness of our nation. I’ll get to that after I’m done eating my burrito. 

After I ordered my breakfast, Steve said, “I forgot if it was my turn or not.” I did not wish to argue so I answered, “Pretty sure it was your turn.”

I lingered over breakfast waiting for the library to open; there was a person there I probably was going to annoy.

We have an awesome local library/movie theater made possible by public tax dollars, and many private as well as corporate donations. (For those curious of who to thank, there is a plaque in front listing names and organizations of all who donated.) One positive aspect of living in an often- crowded tourist community is the revenue generated can be spent on programs benefitting those workers, families and retirees whose efforts and donations help the community function.

At our local library, you can not only borrow hard copy books, but also download free books on your electronic reading device. To do this you have to download an app. The program and app are easy to operate and very user-friendly, if you are not a lunkhead. I periodically have to go into the library for them to tell me the same stuff they told me a couple of months ago to help me download the elderly–themed erotic novel of my choice.

The lady at the front desk did her best to hide her obvious shudder as I entered. She once again walked me through the process and explained the fact that my e-book of choice was on a three-week wait list.

I had a couple more questions but we were interrupted by a well-dressed lady. A little of me goes a long way, so I happily allowed the well-put-together lady and her equally well-coifed child to cut in front of me. With second-language English, and showing a voting ballot, she asked where she could cast her vote.

A simple Google search by the kind lady at the front desk told the prospective voter that the library that accepts ballots is on the other side of the county. I heard the lady say to her child “autobus,” which the 3 years of Spanish I took and failed in high school suggested to me meant she would have to take a bus.

I followed the mother and child out the door and suggested they wait there for a few minutes while I rode my bicycle to the county courthouse to see if there was one of those “Vote Here” signs. 

There was such a sign and I biked back to tell them. I’m not bragging, here. After stealing breakfast from Steve and bugging the lady at the library, fair play dictated I go a few minutes out of my way to facilitate democracy.

Feeling satisfied that my karma was prepaid for another free breakfast I headed to the post office to pick up junk mail from AARP and the Colon Club For Men. 

I had to pass the courthouse on my way home where I saw mother and son standing in front of the “Vote Here” sign taking a selfie. 

I got off my bike, approached, and said, “Thank you for voting.” The lady answered, “This is one of the proudest days of my life. I dreamed of this day.”

With all the divisiveness in this nation sometimes I need a healthy reminder that I’m blessed to live in a country where folks go to great lengths to live. I’m lucky to live in a county so beautiful that people  come from around the world to visit and leave their money behind, and for having friends who don’t always keep track of whose turn it is to buy burritos.