For the first time, my whole family used their power to vote.

We arrived Saturday morning, just before Lewiston City Hall was scheduled to open. I was bringing two first-time voters to cast their ballots. My mother, nearly 60, had never voted and my son had just turned 18 in May. And in a small town in Ohio, my first-born would vote too for the first time.

My mother, like many others, held the power to practice but never desired to play a part in the process. She was only one voice; what would it matter? Before this election, she never saw the point in contributing.

Tim, my intellectual son, approached the experience sensibly -aware of the numbers, well-versed on the issues, he was confident in his choices if not the outcome.

My oldest son is at college, the University of Northwestern Ohio, studying to be a high-performance mechanic. He delighted in the opportunity. To Darren, his civic duty was a ride and he couldn’t wait to get behind the wheel.

This moment had been a long time coming. The primary election had been like no other before it. A black man and a woman running for president; that race could never have served as an adequate precursor to the general election to come. People were far too focused on the hype. The issues plaguing America scarcely had a chance when brought up against that anomaly.

Which came next – the general election or the economic crisis? One can’t help but wonder about the timing of it all. What would the general election have looked like had the crisis happened after Election Day? One could argue the crisis forced Americans to look at the issues before us, rather than the differences among us.

While waiting our turn in line, I spoke of the direct role we were playing in history. My son listened patiently while I went on about the honor and extolled the privilege of voting. Amid this conversation, I overheard two women chatting, discussing the candidates. One heartily noted her contender of choice. Soon after came her qualifiers, nearly none of which were issue-based, but for the most part mirrored the absolute worst the year’s negative campaigning had to offer.

A familiar sadness crept in; for all the strides we’ve made as a people, we still can and will be measured by our lowest common denominators.

I thought to myself, how many constituents will pull the lever with little more than color in mind? How many would vote for the better health/energy/economic plan? How many are held captive to party affiliation? How many will choose based on fear? Who will elect based on change?

Over the past 21 months I labored to take in the political process in small, manageable doses. I boycotted ads, ignored slogans and deleted e-mails. I watched the interviews, anticipated the debates and – most important – did my homework. For me, it wasn’t going to be about female vs. male or black vs. white. I would vote for the candidate best suited for the position, the “person” with the best plan. I didn’t want to relate to the candidates; connecting would bring me too close personally, and frankly, I did not want to make the investment.

In my mind’s eye, I sat at the proverbial kitchen table with Sen. Barack Obama and picked apart his plans. I pulled the sections that pertained to me and my family from each. I wanted time frames; Obama could only estimate.

I felt impatient, but I pushed forward asking “how” he intended to implement his ideas. On this question, he gave me clear, concise answers. I didn’t agree with all he said. I argued the aspects I felt would harm me most. Obama further delineated his position.

He then looked me straight in the eye and said, “I can’t promise you you’ll come out unscathed. I’m not offering a quick fix – it simply can’t be done. I’ll listen to you, keep you informed and actively seek feedback. I want you to continue to be part of the process. There will be a great deal of work involved. Are you up for it?”

With Sen. John McCain, as with Obama, I asked the senator “when” and “how?” At this, McCain smiled, patted me on the head and said, “Don’t worry, leave it to me, my friend.”

Guess who got my vote?

Tammy LaPointe, a mother of three, lives in Lewiston.