Primary Concerns

Protecting Your Right to Vote is Nothing to Shrug Off

Ever get that nagging feeling like you forgot to do something really important? I’m not talking about my daily, hourly, ADHD-infused rotations of, “Wait, why did I come in here again?” I mean one of those much deeper UH-OH moments. Because I did, yesterday, around 5:14pm PT. At first, I thought it might be the belly full of China Mama I had just inhaled (courtesy of the new location soft opening in Henderson this week). But then I remembered the date – Tuesday, June 9 – and realized that big UH OH was me forgetting to mail in my ballot for the Nevada primaries.

My first reaction (and I’m not proud of this) was straight out of the shrug, oh well department. It’s a primary. It’s June. It’s Nevada. Is anybody really watching?

Those thoughts lasted for about 10 seconds, because shrug is just not my brand, and neither is oh well.

I grabbed my ballot and instructions, still sitting out in full view with the best intentions on my home office deskw, and discovered I had until 7:00pm PT to drop off my mail-in ballot in person at a designated voting site. A quick online search revealed the closest one to me was just seven minutes away at Coronado High School, home of the Cougars. A high school I had driven past dozens of times since moving to Henderson in March 2025 without ever having a reason to go inside. I mean, besides wanting some Cougar-branded school gear, because animal print IS my brand.

Yesterday I had an even better reason. Because voting is my brand, too.

I sat down, confirmed that a blue ballpoint pen was on the approved list (Virgo rising rule follower in the house!), and made my final decisions. Then I got in my car and before I could even confirm if my bluetooth was connecting properly, I was pulling into the high school parking lot.

The voting site was set up in the school gymnasium, located more in the center of the campus, with direction signs clearly marking the way through a courtyard. Volunteers wearing yellow t-shirts (not blue, not red) were also stationed throughout to help guide and inform. One said to me, “You’re almost there!” and I laughed and said, “It’s good, I’m getting my steps,” trying to remember what yellow symbolizes. In some cultures, joy and optimism. In other settings, caution. Perhaps all of the above were appropriate in the given setting.

When I reached the gymnasium, there was a line for those voting in person, but for drop-offs, there was no wait. A female volunteer verified I had signed my envelope and pointed me to a silver box with a smile. I asked if I needed to do anything else and she said I was all set. I told her this was my first time voting in Nevada, almost as if I were apologizing for not knowing exactly how it worked here. She welcomed and congratulated me, then handed me an “I Voted” sticker - no apology necessary, just celebration.

I made my way back through the courtyard, passing another volunteer talking to a man who was also leaving, and the only part of their conversation I caught was her calling out to him:

“The key word you said there was blessed.”

I had no idea what they were talking about.

And yet, I had every idea what they were talking about.

Primary elections can be easy to dismiss. Low turnout. Closed ballot if you’re registered with a party. Races that feel local and small and seemingly far from the things that actually keeps you up at night.

But what does keep me up at night is this: protecting and maintaining our rights to safe and fair elections, particularly as we head towards the November midterms, which are redefining what critical means. And local and small are the exact places to start to make a meaningful, larger impact.

So when you realize it is not, in fact, too late – that you’ve got a good hour plus to still have your say – you count your blessings. You mark your ballot. You get in your car. And you make the seven-minute drive. Because not doing so, even now, even here, even in a June primary, is exactly how we lose the right to do it at all.

xo,
SG

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