So, I go to vote at my polling place in Uniondale on Election Day morning, where I've voted for five years. "Street?" said the woman at the table, inquiring about where I live. I tell her. "Name," she adds. I state my name. Then she holds up her hand, giving a gesture meant to signify that I should give her something. I just look blankly at her waving fingers. Then she said, "ID." Being a cranky reporter who challenges everything, I take umbrage. "I've never been asked for my ID before?" I say, giving every indication I had no intention of producing identification, which I surely had. The woman merely sighed and directed me to the voting booth. And I voted.
Olivia Winslow