Deb was right. Voting was a surefire pick-me-up. Voting was in fact so exciting it overrode my usual reserve and I found myself reaching out to a fellow voter.

“My vote has never felt more important,” she said. Yes! Yes! Even here in Massachusetts.

After depositing our ballots, fellow voter and I talked about — what else? — the weather. She loves the fall. I love the fall. She grew up in Cuba. I was born in Massachusetts. Summers are hotter here, she said. Ocean breezes making a difference.

(Will my brother be able to vote? Will Barrett throw the election to trump, having after all, worked on the Bush v Gore matter?). Never mind that for now.

It is a spectacular fall day. Crisp and blue-skied. And voting brings satisfaction.

And now it’s back to work. Postcards to Voters in Pennsylvania and editing the middle years (1740 to 1743).