Portrait in Pen: My Grandmother

My grandmother stood in front of the polling booth, her hands clenched.  “If I can’t vote, no one will vote” she said.
Nellie Doherty McLaughlin was born in remote rural Ireland in 1892.  Her father, a farmer with just two fields, gave a corner of one for the building of a village school house.  Such was his faith in the power of education for his children.  As a child myself, I heard stories of the family’s role in the fight for Irish independence.  I never quite believed that she had made bottle bombs for the IRA.  She was so soft and pretty, her hugs so warm.
Nellie, my Nana, emigrated to Scranton in 1926.  She met and married my grandfather Tom.  He had been gassed in the trenches of France during World War I.  Their daughter in turn married a badly wounded World War II veteran.  His GI Bill benefits helped them build a house in the Abingtons.   My Dad then put up a house for Nellie and Tom a block away from our home.  I was beyond blessed to have them nearby during my childhood.
Because Nellie was partially blind, she was allowed to bring Tom into the voting booth to help read the names.  This was clearly recorded in her voter’s registration in Scranton.  But when they moved to South Abington Township, the notation was lost.  At the first election after the move, they went to vote as they normally did without fail.                         
My grandparents tried to enter the polling booth together, but they were stopped.  They were told she had to go in alone.  She tried to explain, but no one would listen.  Her reaction was intense.  “If I can’t vote, then no one will vote.”  She planted herself in front of the curtain and refused to budge.
Imagine what the poll workers were thinking!  I hope they were inspired by her commitment to the power of the ballot.  It had been won by her village in Ireland when they fought for Irish independence.  It had been maintained at great cost by her husband and her son-in-law.  It had been earned for women here in America by the tireless efforts of suffragists.
Calls were made to the ward in Scranton where my grandparents previously voted.  Yes, their records indicated that Nellie needed assistance to read the ballot.  She and Tom proudly entered the booth and cast their votes.
This story has been a staple in my family for as long as I can remember.  It has forced me out the door on election days when I was really too tired to go.  I thank Nana for the extraordinary example she set.  As they say in Irish, Ar dheis Dé go raibh a hanam       
by:
Cynthia Zujkowski