Hopefully Voting

On the last day of voter registration in Ohio, Shari Robinson walked toward the board of elections in downtown Cleveland and could not believe her 58-year-old eyes.

"It was like going to a Browns game; there was so much excitement," she said.

"Hordes of people were milling about. Old people, young people, black, brown and white people — it was a cosmos of all the people, laughing and talking as they walked through the front door so they could register to vote. Some of them took buses to get there. Imagine that: taking a bus just so you can register to vote."

Don't even try telling Robinson that hope isn't alive in America.

"I watched all those people and thought, 'My gosh, even in Ohio, where the economy is so bad and people have struggled so long, people are showing up because they want to vote. They believe they can make a difference.' It was something. It was really, really something."

I found out about Robinson after she wrote an e-mail titled "Sharing some good news for a change!" and sent it to a bunch of her relatives and friends, including Juliann Brumbaugh. I don't know Brumbaugh, but she thought I might appreciate her friend's perspective, so she sent it my way.

Robinson, who will be a poll worker on Election Day, insisted the person with the best stories was the woman who waited on her at the board of elections.

"She had so many inspiring stories to tell about that day," Robinson said. She didn't know the woman's name, but she described her in enough detail that board officials were able to track her down for me.

I reached elections worker Barbara Dobay at her home Thursday evening. I'm so glad I did.

Dobay is one friendly person. Just recently, she went to a grocery and ended up having a 10-minute conversation with a total stranger about the perils of high-fructose corn syrup in yogurt. She's eager to help in that soon-to-be-a-grandmother kind of way, which makes her the perfect person to wait on hundreds of new voters in a single day.

"I get emotional just thinking about that day," Dobay told me. "So many mothers were bringing in their sons and daughters to register and vote for the first time. Lots of little kids were there, too."

One father brought along his two children, 8 and 12.

"Don't you have school today?" Dobay asked them.

"They're home-schooled," their father explained. "This is their history lesson."

Of all the people Dobay met that day, though, there is one man she said she never, ever will forget.

He is an immigrant from Senegal. When she asked his name, he handed her an official-looking document.

Dobay studied the piece of paper, and then it hit her.

"You just became a citizen this morning," she said. He nodded and smiled.

She congratulated him, and so did her colleagues sitting next to her. With each "congratulations," the man smiled and said, "Thank you."

A few moments later, Dubay excitedly shared the news with another election official, Irene Lange.

"It was too good to keep to myself," Lange told me later.

She turned to the 100 or so voters in the diverse crowd and announced that the man with the big grin on his face had become an American citizen just that morning and already was registered to vote.

The room erupted into cheers.

"So many came forward to shake his hand," Dubay said. "I get goose bumps just thinking about it."

Nobody knew what country he came from. Nobody knew how he would cast his vote, either. And nobody cared.

For just a moment, all anyone cared about was the chance to welcome a brand-new American who is full of hope.

Connie Schultz is a Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland and the author of two books from Random House: "Life Happens" and "… and His Lovely Wife." To find out more about Connie Schultz (cschultz@plaind.com) and read her past columns, please visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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