As our family walked, the way was marked by signs wrapped onto trees, proclaiming the names of candidates. Whatever their party, they always seem to be in red, white and blue.
I stayed back while my wife and daughters checked in to vote, and in that moment it struck me: Our daughters, born in China, left along roadsides, and grew up in our family of mixed nationalities, languages and faiths, were voting for who would be the next president of the United States.
It reminded me how in so many American neighborhoods, you can find people from all over the world who now call it home. There were about 20 people in line in front of our family.
There are so many ways to express opinions these days. But are we being heard, or just adding one more roar to a hubbub of opinions that ding us on screen, to be flicked aside?
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