Dear Readers,

By the time you read this, the election will be over. Most likely we will know who will be president for the next four years. We will know who will represent us in the U.S. Senate and Congress. We will know the makeup of the next Maine Legislature. We will know the results of the same-sex marriage question and whether we approved a cluster of bonding proposals.

Despite the flood of TV commercials promising the end of the world unless candidate A or candidate B is elected or defeated, the sun still came up on Wednesday. In most American homes, the power was on, except for parts of New York and New Jersey. There were still bills to pay, the kids were still trying to get out of homework and folks at the office resumed complaining about the Red Sox, the Patriots and other folks from Massachusetts.

The 2012 election was history and our new and old elected leaders went back to promising promises, soliciting money, arranging junkets and dodging questions from caring constituents and nosy reporters.

Think of it for a moment: The most powerful nation in the world held an election. We cast our ballots for the candidates we hoped would do the best job leading our nation and our state.

Unlike our friends and enemies in lands far away, our election did not produce TV footage of murder, bombings and other acts of mayhem. There were no disgruntled armed groups heading for the hills to foment revolution. 

Did you notice that most of the losing candidates sent a message to the winners congratulating them and wishing them well? 

After the votes were being counted, we quietly sat at home and watched the TV pundits predict the winners and losers. After the results came in, we chuckled as the same folks tried to justify their predictions, whether they were right or wrong.

As we watched the pundits pontificate, I thought of a day 45 years ago, in a land far away. The year was 1967 the city was Hue in the former Republic of South Vietnam. Not far from the great cathedral of that city, a city soon to be turned into a battleground a few months later, I watched a polling place where folks lined up for to cast a ballot.

You could have called it a democratic election only of you pretended not to see the pair of glaring guards, with machine guns slung over their shoulders, watching voters mark their ballots. I still remember the look of fear on a lady’s face as she glanced up at them.

This year, I was one of those early voters because I anticipated working on Election Day. The good folks at the town office understood and were very accommodating. On Tuesday, I visited several polling places and talked with the volunteer poll workers. We chatted about family, the weather and the situation with St. Andrews Hospital. I did not see any armed guards.

On Tuesday evening, my bride and I stayed up way too late watching TV pundits make predictions (and later, excuses). It was way too late when we finally turned off the TV set and went upstairs.

We pulled up the covers, and right after a welcome good night hug, we quietly offered thanks that we live in a nation where, despite the commercials and pundits, the elections did not feature murder, mayhem and promises of a revolution to come. 

In my book, we all should be thankful we live in a country where the polls were operated by smiling friends and neighbors, not glaring guards carrying machine guns.