On a brilliant blue and gold day on the third Monday of October, a score of men and women gather at the foot of an auditorium stage in a former 1920s elementary school turned Town Hall in Westport. Their right hands are raised as they are sworn in as election officials for the first day of 13 days of early voting before Election Day. We are greeters, floaters, ballot monitors, computer operators, and ballot checkers and scanners, overseen by an assistant registrar and monitor. We have all been trained in a protocol of finely tuned systems of checks and balances and prepared to guide the electors of a small town through the early voting process for the very first time in Connecticut. Promptly at 10 a.m., a registrar announces, “The polls are opened!”  The doors swing wide, and the line of voters moving toward us quickly extends the entire length of the aisle leading to the stage. It takes several minutes for the first arrivals to transition from ballot assignment to the voting kiosk. As the computer operators become familiar with the process, they move from a learning curve to the confidence of muscle memory. We smile broadly if any voters seem unhappy with the pace, thanking them for their patience. We establish a rhythm, and soon, voters move smoothly through the process. Tension from the launch melts away as voters, impressed with the ease of early voting, express their gratitude.  In the confined space, we participate in spontaneous reunions and experience the joy of connecting with neighbors, old friends, former colleagues, teachers, and associates. Surprisingly, several town luminaries pass by unrecognized: a former first selectman and his wife, philanthropists whose names adorn public spaces, elected officials who served the town for decades, and some still in office. Gloria Gouveia When a man in his 80s proudly announces that he attended elementary school in the building, we applaud the full circle of his life. A tall young man with the face of a movie star presents himself at my station. His energy and charisma illuminate the aisle as he commands everyone’s attention with his theatrical gestures and perfectly modulated voice. We remain in his thrall as he moves from balloting to kiosk to ballot box and back before striking a pose to deliver a gracious soliloquy of thanks for our service and, with a flourish, exits stage left. We learn later that he’s an actor in a popular prime-time television series. It is just these unpredictable human interactions that attract me most to serving as an election official. Where else could I have the opportunity to connect with otherwise unknown members of my community? The light in the auditorium changes as the hours pass until sunset, when natural light is replaced by harsher artificial illumination. The tone grows quieter, and voices more reserved. Near closing, a man, still wearing work clothes, steps up to my station. As I process his ballot, I’m aware of two little girls standing shyly behind him. Like their father, their eyes are trained on me. When I hand him his ballot, he touches my hand, and in a tone of reverence rarely heard outside of a place of worship, he says in a Hispanic accent, “Thank you so much for being here so I can vote tonight,” with such sincerity that my eyes instantly moisten with tears. Shortly before our 6 p.m. closing, the count of ballots deposited today is announced. We are just two ballots shy of 600 — about three percent of the town’s registered voters.  One of the workers immediately jumps to her feet and bounds toward the lobby, shouting, “I’m going to go out and find two more people!” A few workers call nearby friends on the slim chance that they can arrive to vote in time. The five-minute mad flurry of activity ends without results. A registrar appears and, at 6 p.m., announces, “The polls are closed.” The principal events of the day will play out again tomorrow and for the 11 days leading up to Election Day. The first day of early elections comes to an end. I am pleased beyond measure to have three more days of early election work before the most incredible thrill of all: the honor of being selected to serve as an assistant registrar on Election Day. Without exaggeration, this is the most satisfying thing I’ve ever done. Gloria Gouveia is a member of the Connecticut Mirror’s Community Editorial Board.