Finneyville: one last good bye, or maybe not

I could hardly wait to go vote yesterday. Of course, I was anxious to exercise my right to walk inside a booth and privately mark the circles next to my favorite candidates or, in some cases, alternatives to my least favorite candidates. There's something about the privacy of that booth that emboldens a person like me, who in most cases, doesn't show her hand. I'd wager that many people might be surprised which circles I blackened.

My second reason for excitement was getting to vote at a new precinct for the first time in my life. Airport Precinct has been my home ground for all my voting years. Over the years, some of the faces of election officials have changed, but for the most part, a walk into the voting room has usually led to a good old-fashioned neighborhood gathering. There's always a welcome and a big smile and a sense that you're definitely a fixture among the other fixtures within the room.

I was breaking into uncharted territory when Kiwi and I drove to the North Idaho Christian Fellowship on Colburn Culver Road. I wondered whom I'd see and whom I'd know at this new precinct. Pulling into the parking lot, I knew immediately that I'd probably have one new friend by the time I'd finished voting. The car next to me also had a Border Collie sitting in the back watching intently toward the church for its master.

Walking into the door, I knew four of the six officials. Plus, my old friend Marilyn Chambers was just finishing with her ballot.

"Marilyn Chambers has voted," Cora Goulette announced as she handed me a number. Marilyn greeted me and told me all her kids would be home for Thanksgiving. I told her all my kids would be home for Thanksgiving too. I suggested they all come over to see the Lovestead; she said it would be easier for the smaller Love tribe to come to the Chambers house. It was agreed. We'll go see Marilyn's newest set of grand twins on Friday or Saturday of Thanksgiving.

That established, I walked to the table where Carla Poelstra, Florence VanDenBerg and Mrs. Dunn sat waiting for me to get my ballot. The first glitch of voting day occurred. I was not registered at Northside Christian Fellowship. I could not vote there. The ladies told me I had to go back to my previous precinct, vote and fill out a change-of-address form. Then, at the next election I could vote at Northside Christian Fellowship.

So, out the door I went alongside Jim Carpenter, owner of the Border Collie next car over from Kiwi. We talked Border Collies for fifteen minutes and got to know each other's dogs. Jim said he brought Joe home from the Friends of the Shelter. He and his wife have had a great time, like all new Border Collie owners, experiencing the mystique of these wonderful dogs. Their Joe plays hide-and-seek, and he accompanies Jim wherever he goes.

Enough about dogs. I needed to vote, so off I headed for the county extension office where the Airport Precinct has been voting for the past several years. I've heard comments on the street that when you go to Airport Precinct, you get three generations of Finneys. And, that's true. They pretty much run the show. There's Sharon who greets the voters and announces that they've voted. Then, there's Grandma Finney, Anne Finney and her daughter crossing off voters' names across the room.

There were other officials in the room, but I wasn't on a first-name basis with them. I did meet Mr. Larson, the voting monitor, who jotted down my blog address. After filling out the change of address form, I was ready to vote, but they had me going in circles for a while for various details. Finally, Sharon handed me my ballot and I went inside to blacken those all-important circles. In the midst of it all, old neighbors like the Sissons and the Nordgaardens were also doing their civic duty. I also had a quick chat with my longtime teaching friend, Ray Holt.

Then, it was time to say good bye, for real. This would definitely be the last time I'd ever vote at the Airport precinct and the last time I'd get to heckle all those generations of Finneys. So, while going out the door, I yelled, "Good bye Finneyville." I heard chuckles behind me.

It won't be a complete black-out on the Finney front, though. At least three sets of Finneys live in my new neighborhood, so I'm expecting to run into some of them the next time I go vote at the Northside Christian Fellowship. Maybe some day they'll be running the election show for Selle voters. One thing's for sure: you can take the kid out of Finney country, but you definitely can't take the Finneys out of all the country.