Voting calls for a different kind of necklace these days

I wore pearls and my best taffeta dress as I stood in line with my husband, a newly promoted First Lieutenant, waiting to vote for the first time.

Up until that election, Nov. 7, 1956, military officers were strongly discouraged from voting. Neither General George Patton nor President Eisenhower himself ever voted while in uniform. There was a widely held conviction that there would be a conflict of interest if a man voted for his own Commander in Chief. We were proud and excited. At last, it was our turn.

Those were the days when regulations specified that an officer in uniform was not to carry a bag of groceries, an umbrella, and certainly not a baby who would surely drool on his blouse. Writing in the Army Times, Major Kenneth G. Deveau, retired, recalled, ‘‘At my orientation at Fort Dix, N.J., in 1954, I was told that while in uniform a soldier does not carry an umbrella, push a baby carriage or wear rubbers over his shoes.’‘

We had two children under 2 years of age — a tribute to our general enthusiasm for our new life. So we left the kids with neighbors. We’d look after theirs later while they voted.

Reader Joan Doherty recalls: “age 21 in 1956, I held my oldest son while casting my first vote.”

I don’t wear pearls any more. Instead I wear my fall monitor, an electronic instrument that will summon help if I should fall. That’s pretty likely since 1 in 4 seniors experiences a serious fall every year. I would like none of them to be me. Three million older people each year are treated in emergency rooms for fall-related injuries, according to the Centers for Disease Control and elderly patients are three times more likely to die from a ground-level fall than their younger counterparts. At this moment, I have three friends in very serious condition because of falls we would have laughed off a few years ago.

With my fall monitor, I can call for help if I should trip, or lock myself in the closet, or snap my toe in a mousetrap. It doesn’t have the same elegance as pearls, but is way more practical. It does have to be regularly updated. So a few days ago, when it was time for another update, I listed replacement with the necessary chores for the day, along with dropping my ballot in the drop box. Elections have changed.

With the new monitor hanging around my neck, ballot in my purse, I put the outdated monitor in a box with a bit of bubble wrap and headed out to the post office. The parking lot was jammed. Very hard to keep social distance so I dropped my package in the huge, empty drop box in the lobby. It made a satisfactory sound when it bounced on the bottom.

By the time I got back to the car, there was a phone call from my offspring who lives in New Mexico, the Land of Enchantment.

“Mom are you all right?” Enchanted Child asked in a worried tone. “I just got an alert that you’ve fallen.”

I looked around to check. “I’m fine,” I said.

“That’s good,” the Enchanted One answered, “because the fire department is on the way to rescue you.”

The monitor had alerted all three of my older children who were now standing by. The new monitor was nestled quietly in my more-than-ample bosom. It had to be the old one that was startled awake by its drop to the bottom of the mail box. I could visualize it calling, “Dorothy, do you need help?”

By the time I got home, after assuring the EMTs that I wasn’t hurt, there were seven more messages, one after the other, approximately three minutes apart. The monitor had apparently decided that it was being kidnapped and was sending frantic pleas for help. I spent the afternoon on the phone, trying to head off false alarms as the monitor moved with amazing speed across the country. I think we got it to stop sobbing helplessly about the time it passed through Tulsa. Quiet so far. Not. Sure.

It’s a different election time. Dr. Spock’s “Baby and Child Care,” which was published in 1946, was our bible for childcare in those old days. “Don’t be afraid to trust your own common sense” was the revolutionary advice. “You know more than you think you do.” I certainly hope so but I’d feel better if I could find my pearls.

Where to find Dorothy in November

• 2 p.m. Nov. 12: “Zoom Book Doctor,” help and ideas for getting your book or story project on track.
• 2 p.m. Nov. 19: “Zoom Holiday House Party,” fun ideas for getting ready for the holiday in COVID times.
• Registration and information at https://mygenerationgap.com
• Podcast, “Swimming Upstream,” at https:itsnevertoolate.com – a new show every Sunday.
• Questions: Email Dorothy@itsnevertoolate.com