The Sunday Memory Drawer - A Timely Tale From Decades Ago

The house on the left was my childhood home on South 15th Avenue in Mount Vernon.  I was there until I was several years out of college.   It's the starting point for today's story, which is an apropos one given what has transpired in America the last two weeks.

So, follow me.

I moved out on my own when my grandmother died and the house was sold.   My father opted to move to the nearby Bronx.   I went all the way to North Broadway in Yonkers.

For reasons that went with my dad to Heaven, he didn't want the Bronx to be his official address.   So he would use my place in Yonkers as the place to get important mail, etc..   And he registered to vote in my district in Yonkers.

So, dutifully, my father would come up to Westchester every Election Day to vote at the local grade school.

My father passed away in 1991.  His new mailing address was Ferncliff Cemetery in Hartsdale, New York.

On the very first Election Day after Dad died, I went to the same grade school to vote.   The drill was very usual and familiar.   You went up to the desk where a couple of old lady volunteers sat with this big ledger.

You'd give your address.

The lady would open up the ledger and look up the address.   She would ask what my last name was.

I would tell her.

And then she asked if I was Leonard or Harold.   You see, my dad was still listed as a voter.   

And, for the next six years that I voted in Yonkers, I would get the same question every single year.

Was I Leonard or Harold?

In six years, the election rolls were never changed.  Despite the fact that my father's death certificate was properly filed and his Social Security discontinued.  But, apparently, there was no procedure in place to cross tab people who were alive to vote and those who were not.

For all I know, my father's name might still be there.  Heck, maybe I'm still listed given I still own an apartment there.

If you think this is just a singular story, the recent news about fraud should give you pause to think.  

And, oh, yeah, I have something to add.

You all know Don Knotts.   He actually used to live in the Los Angeles apartment that I currently reside in.   

Indeed, Don passed away about a month before I moved in.

I mention this because, about a month ago, why did I find down on the lobby table where undeliverable mail goes?   

A ballot to vote addressed to one Jesse Donald Knotts.

He died in 2006.

Mike drop.

Dinner last night:  Kung Pao Chicken from Chin Chin.