First

He was walking out when I was coasting to a stop just in front of the door of the polling place: Our neighbor. The one with the "Meg" sign perched high on a post in his front yard. The one who had a "McCain/Palin" sign on the same post a couple of years back. I smiled, waved, and called out to him, "You beat me!" It took him a moment to recognize me in my helmet and Cubs jacket.
"Yeah," he chuckled, "I was first." He went on to describe how the poll workers had to have him inspect the inner workings of the box before he could slide his ballot into the tractor feed.
I told him that I remembered that from a couple of elections ago, when I had been there when the doors opened and I had the honor of casting my votes first. We shared that moment of pride in our civic duty for a moment before he raised an eyebrow. "Yours will probably cancel mine out, but, oh well."
That was the moment of reckoning. The one where we had so much in common and then suddenly found ourselves on the opposite sides of a fence. The fence that has grown taller across the country, for everyone. But this was my neighbor, and I wasn't going to let partisan politics spoil our collective day. "Do you think Tim Tebow will play this year?" I asked.
He threw his head back and laughed and repeated our party line: "It doesn't matter as long as we win two games."
I knew what he was talking about. We don't care who is the quarterback of the Denver Broncos this year, as long as they beat the Oakland Raiders twice. "Just win, baby," I replied, aping the Raiders so-called "Commitment To Excellence." And suddenly we were back on the same page. We were the first two Bronco fans to vote at that Oakland polling place.
I know that before November there will be new signs. I know that my wife and I will still sigh as we walk past his yard to bear witness to his agenda. He knows that just two doors down there is a family that doesn't generally share his views. We don't tend to discuss politics much. But we all vote. And cheer for the Broncos.