10.11.12.

Now there's a once-in-a-lifetime day of the year for ya. Kinda makes me want to write checks. (NOT! I love online bill payment. I still don't love paying bills, but technology makes it a heckuva lot less painful and time-consuming.) And while I would love to be able to compose an entire post about today's date, I just don't have that kind of creativity in me. If I find anything clever out there, I'll link back to it later.

So. Moving on.

The man we said good-bye to yesterday is the first of my first cousins to die. He was 65, definitely not old (and the older I get, the younger 65 looks) in body or mind or spirit, but managed to develop a pretty awful form of cancer a couple years ago.

Most of the funerals I've attended have been for those much older than I. One recent exception stands out, but I didn't know her well. She was the wife of one of my husband's high-school classmates. I've been to funerals for my husband's teachers, his mother's friends, my own parents – the previous generation.

Not my own.

I was the only one of this generation of cousins there, except for his sister, of course. We're all scattered and now that our parents are nearly all gone (one aunt still lives in Illinois) we haven't made much of an effort to get together. The last time I saw any of my cousins was at my dad's funeral.

We simply must stop meeting like this.

I heard over and over and over again what a good man my cousin was. He was an Ohio State Trooper and a Navy veteran and an artist and a father and a grandfather and, even, a great-grandfather. He adored his family, was proud of his service, had an outstanding career and earned the respect and admiration of all who knew him.

I felt good about going. I'm sure some of you (and my husband!) think it's kind of, um, pushing it to drive five hours, stay 90 minutes and drive five more hours, all in one day. I really didn't get tired, though, until I was half an hour from home. So it was okay. It was the right thing to do, and I wanted to go.

To follow up on yesterday's post, I passed one car – ONE – with an Obama bumper sticker. (Amazingly, an older Caucasian male was driving. I thought they were voting for Romney!?)

And if campaign signs did vote, President Obama would be a shoe-in in Ohio. Still, though, the signs weren't plastered everywhere as they were four years ago. I wonder about local ordinances, because I saw several of those walking sign workers Vickie mentioned in smaller towns along the way.

Oh, and early voting has already begun in Ohio. The parking lot at this polling location was packed, with a line of people out the door. There was an Obama-Biden sign placed as close to the site as is legally allowed and Romney supporters were nowhere to be found.

Hope. Change. Forward. Let's get this done.

Four years ago …

roadsides and bumpers were littered with campaign signs of all varieties. Navy blue McCain-Palin (remember them?) stickers were prominent, but not any more so than the Obama sunrise. It wasn't at all unusual to get passed on the highway by someone who either waved in delight or flipped you off, depending on the stickers adorning his or her vehicle. (Trucks sported McCain stickers, while Obama was more popular with the Subaru/Volvo/Prius set.)

Now? Not so much.

I still have three signs to put out (yes, I'm one of those). Obama was the first one up, followed by Chafin (a woman running for Supreme Court) and Wheeler (the former sheriff who, after an eight-year run, sat out a term, per county regulations, and is running again). Who's left? Jeffry Pritt, running for House of Delegates; Nick Rahall, who will most certainly be re-elected to Congress, and … are you ready? … I have a Byrd for Senate sign, which I'm not going to put too close to the road.

Yesterday as I traveled in southern WV and southwest VA I saw lots of Romney signs, a few Obama-Biden placards, one Maloney for Governor and none for Manchin (D-Senate) or Tomblin (D-Governor). I think Republicans will vote for Manchin and Tomblin, but don't want to advertise the fact. I think Democrats will vote for them, too, in fewer numbers than previous elections, and I know the Dems don't want to do much to promote them. They're blue-dog Democrats – far too moderate for my taste, or for that of most Democrats I know.

I'm curious as to what I'll see in swing-state Ohio today. As Ohio (Virginia/Florida/Iowa/Colorado) goes, so goes the Presidency. My cousins are all Republicans. If challenged, I plan to laughingly announce I'm the token Democrat, representing their Uncle John (my dad) and our grandfather Benjamin Harrison Young, who posted a photograph of FDR on the outside of the rude little shack in which our parents all grew up. (Ironically, Benjamin Harrison was a Republican. My grandfather – who died before I was born – must have been something of a rebel in his time.)

Four years ago signs were plentiful, enthusiasm was high, opinions were loud and conversations were heated. This year? Not so much. West Virginians have voted seven times since the 2008 presidential elections; we're about voted out. It's been difficult to get folks excited.

Mr. Wheeler stopped by the other day to make sure he had my vote. During our conversation he said something that brought back a little of that hopey-changey feeling, and made me think people will still go to the polls. What were the words that left such a big impression?

SIGNS

DON'T

VOTE