I just voted by mail in the primary. Voting is important. I believe in it. I take it very seriously. That’s pretty funny, considering.

For instance, I had to decide among three Congressional candidates. I have read the autobiography of one of them, who is a plucky can-do come-from-the bottom medical doctor who has done much good and who made sure to tell her readers so; she strikes me as inspiring and good at self-promotion but not particularly effective or experienced. The other two have been state representatives, and therefore have some pretty decent political experience. One of the state reps is somewhat progressive, and comes from a political dynasty in Philadelphia, and will probably win because Philadelphia these days is a remarkable galaxy of insiders who keep bobbing to the surface. He has been endorsed by some names. The other state rep is also progressive, presentable, and probably full of hot air and promises, and he has been endorsed by some other big names. I voted for the third one, because why not.

I also had to choose a state representative, and there were three candidates: First, the current rep, who replaced someone who was good, and he has been riding on her coattails (and probably her staff) since then. But he has said some immoderate things, and he didn’t know the name of my neighbor who had a street named after her. (It’s Philly, man. She was a committeewoman for 40 years, and involved with everything. She was an insider. You need to know her name. Your chief of staff screwed up, or you didn’t listen.) The second state rep candidate was a guy I didn’t know; I looked at his information. He seemed fine. I voted for the third state rep candidate, a woman who also seemed fine and whose campaigners had actually put a flyer through my mail slot. At least she made an effort.

There was a slate of people running for some Democratic committee. I was supposed to choose 9 out of 14 or so (I didn’t count). One of the candidates was even white, which was odd and interesting in my area. I did an online search for names, and eliminated a corrupt former sheriff and a number of other people with bad press, and ended up voting for five people.

There were two questions up for vote. They were both fait accomplis. Most voters vote “yes” on those. My husband always voted “no,” on principle, but for a lot of reasons I almost never did what he did. (Those reasons include that he just automatically didn’t like women in power, though he would have denied that vociferously. He reacted poorly to women politicians, women newscasters, and everybody female in public except the late Queen Elizabeth. I think they all reminded him of his mother. He was a progressive Democrat and quite the feminist, but still the sexism was baked into his weird soul.) I voted “yes.”

In Philadelphia, the primary is the real election this millennium, because despite all the finance and technology companies in the city, and despite the virulent conservatism of much of South Philly, the majority of the population is Democratic and the majority of the politicians are black, including our current mayor (whom I also voted for last election, and I apologize), but not the previous one.

I am a very informed voter, and diligent about researching the candidates, and still, I could have flipped a coin a few times. Voting is like playing a game of chance, where you do your best and then hope you weren’t wrong. I was wrong about one of my Senators last election, for instance, but there was no good way to know that at the time and his opponent was just as repellent.

Vote, folks. Someone has to, and it’s just sad when no one does. If I can vote, you can too. But remember what Rebecca Solnit said: “A vote is not a valentine, it’s a chess move.” I suck at chess, but you get the idea.