Piece of the Past

Last year, after Mom died, my siblings and I went through my parents' home, dividing and distributing many of their possessions - Mom's jewelry, framed art, old photos, etc.

One of my sisters went through the strong box Dad used to keep under the bed. She found a couple of Dad's old wallets. Dad had only been in the nursing home under a year at this point, so my sister was surprised to see slips of paper that looked old - years, even decades old.

One of the documents was a 50 year old receipt. Only for a small amount, less than $2.00, I think. But Dad had held onto this particular receipt from when they had lived in Texas. It was for the poll tax. That small amount of money he paid in order to cast his vote. That tax, that for years was used to erect one more barrier for people of color to be able to participate fully in our country's democratic system.

Here's an example of a poll tax receipt - I don't have a copy of my Dad's. This one is also from Texas, a few years after my family had moved back north.


We were somewhat astonished that Dad had kept this little piece of history, and proud of him that he had recognized it for what it was.

On Tuesday, I'm going to the polls to cast my vote. I won't have to take a made up 'citizenship quiz'; I won't be threatened and bullied; I won't have to pay a tax. I'll just go in and vote.

And like many other of my fellow Americans, I will be proud and excited to cast my vote for president, for the first time in US history, for a person of color. For free. For free.