... Voting Democrat in a Room Full of Republicans

Admittedly, it's not the first time.

I was lucky enough to turn 18 less than a month before the 2000 presidential election. So, after months of mulling over who I'd vote for and arguing my stance in the student newspaper (which, by the way, I don't think anyone but my parents—both teachers—read), I trudged through knee-deep snow and blowing winds to the Civic Center in my population 409 Wyoming hometown. (Seriously. This is not your grandfather's walking-uphill-both-ways tale. It was November in Wyoming, people. What do you expect?)

When I entered the Civic Center it was like a ghost town, in part because of the weather. But it probably also had a lot to do with the fact that everyone but me had already voted—for George W. Bush, no doubt. We used to joke that the only three Democrats in town were my Dad, the crazy librarian down the street, and me (Mom was registered Independent, I think). Needless to say, I was aware of the fact when I slid behind the curtain to vote that first time.

The second time I voted for president was in Des Moines while I was attending Drake University. There, I'm pretty sure, I was surrounded by Democrats. Or at least the ratio was much improved.

I was sorry to miss the caucuses in Iowa this year—I moved too soon! They would've been much more exciting than my foray to the church down the street where I felt, once again, quite lonely. I walked in on Super Tuesday and the cute old ladies at my precinct table asked what ballot I wanted. "Democrat," I said confidently. At least I think it was. I was the youngest one in there by a good 35 years. And I just knew all those eyes were judging me.

Not really. I made that up. The women were quiet and proper, handed me my ballot, and didn't say another word. Voting took all of 30 seconds, because here's another thing about voting in a primary in a room full of Republicans: you don't have much to vote on. I filled in the circle for my presidential candidate and my convention reps (none of whom I knew). And I filled in the circle for Dick Durbin. No one else to vote for ... no other Democrats running against him. Or for any other position on the ballot for the county or the city.

So, about two minutes after walking in, I walked out into the rain with my "I voted" sticker. It's really quite easy, just as I'm sure it's pretty easy to vote Republican in a roomful of Democrats. End of story.

At least until you start wondering. If I'm one of oh, five Democrats in town (it's a step up from the three in Hulett!), why even vote? Does my vote even matter? And this, my friends, is where things get tricky. And this is what I'm going to try to figure out in time for November, for the big election. If there's no way in hell a Democrat is going to get elected here, why bother? (I, of course, will vote. But maybe you're somewhere out there wondering the same thing. So I'm going to try to convince you your vote matters. You should listen to me. Really. I'm the daughter of a civics and government teacher.)

Needless to say, stay tuned.