Yesenia Perez marks her ballot as her 1-year-old Eduardo Sanchez clings to her in the Weston Ranch area of Stockton, Calif. on Tuesday, Nov. 6, 2012. The neighborhood was heavily affected by foreclosures in the past few years. Perez, 34, a mother of five who works at a local fruit-packing house, has had her share of hard times. After both she and her husband had their work hours cut amid the sputtering economy, they lost their home to foreclosure three years ago. Yet on Tuesday, she felt compelled to do something she had never done before: vote. |
On Election Day, Americans took time to vote, and to explain why this ritual means so much to them. At polling places and in luncheonettes, on the storm-battered East Coast and in a California city hobbled by foreclosure, in precincts large and small, they celebrated democracy - and the end of a long and bitter campaign.
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STOCKTON, Calif.: Signs of hope amid misery, and a first-time vote for one American who still believes in the dream.
Every
election big and small, Carl Chua rents out the garage of his family's
house as a polling place. With neighbors working the tables and crossing
his lawn to cast ballots, he stood in his driveway and surveyed the
ruins of the housing bubble's aftermath.
"One,
two, three, four, five. Six," the 52-year-old postal carrier said,
pointing to the homes on his block that had fallen to foreclosures since
the nation last picked a president. "We are the only ones left behind
of the original owners."
Stockton, a port city
83 miles east of San Francisco, has spent the last four years with the
highest foreclosure rate in the United States. In June, the city became
the largest in the nation to ever declare bankruptcy. Here, the broken
middle-class dreams debated by Barack Obama and Mitt Romney are made of
moving trucks, "For Sale" signs, plummeting credit scores and the bars
that residents like Zelma Emery, 45, have put on their windows to
prevent break-ins.
Emery, who was laid off
from her job as a phlebotomist five years ago, blames Congress more than
the White House for her community's pain. She voted to re-elect Barack
Obama.
"It's gotten a little better. But right here anyway, it hasn't gotten much better," she said.
Yesenia
Perez, 34, a mother of five who works at a local fruit-packing house,
has had her share of hard
times, too: Work hours cut. A home lost to
foreclosure.
Yet on Tuesday, she felt compelled to do something she had never done before: vote.
Because
of the immigration policies of the president she calls "Our Obama,"
several cousins no longer face deportation to Mexico. Instead, they can
be part of a dream that, while broken, still is worth having, Perez
said.
"In the past I didn't think I could make
a difference in the election," she said, not long before the polls
starting closing back East and Election Day 2012 neared its finish.
"Now, I'm motivated."
-By LISA LEFF, Associated Press Writer
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PHOENIX: In "show me your papers" state, young Latinos work to turn out vote.
In
a nondescript office building near an auto repair shop and a 99 Cents
Only store, a dozen bleary-eyed volunteers sat before phones and
computers, doing their part to contribute to democracy and a cause close
to their hearts: Helping to turn out the Latino vote in a state that is
30 percent Hispanic.
"Buenos dias," said
23-year-old Norma Melendez as she answered phones at Mi Familia Vota, a
nonpartisan effort to increase Hispanic participation in the electoral
process. Melendez, wearing a shirt that read "Election Protection. You
Have The Right To Vote," was going on 24-plus straight hours of work,
helping to direct callers to the right polling places. "I just think
it's important to vote. I don't like when people take advantage of
others, or think they are ignorant somehow."
Next
to her, Michael Maez gulped a Monster energy drink (his third of the
day) as he prepared to send canvassers across the city.
Maez,
22, was born and raised in this state known for its tough stance on
immigration and the so-called "show me your papers" law, requiring
police enforcing other laws to question the immigration status of those
they suspect are in the country illegally. But his father, who remodels
homes, and his mother, who provides daycare services, came here from
Morelos, Mexico. Unlike their citizen son, they are legal permanent
residents and, therefore, ineligible to vote.
For
Maez, this day was about much more than which candidates he chose or
propositions he voted for or against. It was, in his words, a chance to
"wake up" all politicians to the issues that matter to families like
his. "It empowers all of the people who have a voice to use it for the
ones who don't."
-By PAULINE ARRILLAGA, AP National Writer
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LAKEWOOD, Colo.: Two women, two different decisions
In
swing state Colorado, elections typically are decided in three suburban
counties where women play a key role. That fact didn't escape the
Romney and Obama campaigns, which spent plenty of time and money
reaching out to that important voting bloc in Arapahoe, Larimer and
Jefferson counties - and, indeed, all across the land.
In
Lakewood, west of Denver in Jefferson County, finding the time to even
vote was one of many challenges for single mother Amber Tuffield. Her
day started in typical fashion: Three trips up the stairs to rouse her
13-year-old son, Dallas, out of bed. A trip down to the basement to find
clean clothes for her 16-year-old daughter, Sage. Put a pot roast in
the Crock-Pot for dinner.
Tuffield works two
jobs - one as a secretary, the other bartending - and worries most about
having decent health care and ensuring her children get a solid
education. But two things in particular stuck with her this Election
Day: Mitt Romney's secretly recorded assertion that 47 percent of
Americans see themselves as "victims," and his suggestion that students
should borrow money from their parents if they can't afford college.
It
all left her questioning whether the Republican could really relate to
people like her, and prompted this registered independent to vote for
Obama instead.
"Looking at both of them, I'm more comfortable with the known than the unknown," said Tuffield, 44.
In
Arapahoe County, Republican precinct leader Lori Horn spent her day
coordinating poll observers. Like Tuffield, she worries about her
children's future, but believes Romney and his economic plan are the
best bet for her family.
"I have a daughter on
the precipice of college and a career," said the 50-year-old mother of
two. "I have to make this a priority."