Loyal Scaiaholics understand my controversial position that we’re all mammals. Perhaps this idea is more important than ever as we approach the 2020 election.

“Nothing could be more schismatic than this election,” we all said to each other in 2016. Then the other person would nod thoughtfully and quickly google “schismatic” to confirm its meeting.

But our elected officials saw fit to organize an even more discordant election in 2020.

“We need to take everyone’s mind off COVID-19,” our elected officials all said to each other. Then the other elected officials nodded thoughtfully.

Which brings us to early voting.

The last day of early voting in Texas is tomorrow. Through yesterday, about half of us had voted. In fact, Texas leads the country in the number of early voters.

Even in Loving County, the second least populous county in America with just 134 residents, has had dozens of people come out, although their turnout us just 34%.

I, meanwhile, live in Tarrant County, so populous I didn’t even have to crop the image to include it in the list of counties’ turnouts.

On the first day of early voting, I drove over to Dallas to the American Airlines Center to shove microphones in the face of early voters. Many of them agreed, in fact, that we’re all mammals and regardless of political party, they’d like our representatives in Washington to be less discordant. [It’s possible they did not use the term, “discordant.”]

Folks had started lining up outside the AAC about 5 a.m. the first day of early voting even though polls didn’t open until 7.

“You know your vote counts the same regardless of what day you come out here, right?” I inquired.

All this political rigmarole [or “hullaballoo”, if you will] may be a bit intimidating. This blog is not intimidating. This blog is a place where people of all political beliefs can share ideas and, more importantly, compare “I voted” stickers.

I didn’t get up early to stand in line. I waited a few days then stopped at the polling place closest to the Ol’ Scaia Place in the afternoon. I was the only one there.

Afterward, I was issued the standard “I voted” sticker.

But other places were giving away fancier, more localized stickers.

“Fort Worth will not be outshined!” I exclaimed to people who hadn’t asked and personalized my sticker.

“Over in Dallas, they’re giving away ‘I voted’ in pins. Pins!” I cried out to some associates.

They explained maybe Fort Worth and Tarrant County don’t need to be so flashy, reminding me I learned the phrase, “All hat and no cattle,” when I moved to Texas.

I went back to the American Airlines Center a few days later. The Dallas County administrative judge was planning to vote and wanted to explain to everyone how this is a chance to get people involved in all levels of politics, not just one particularly discordant presidential race.

Naturally, I made that interview about me, explaining the time I met Mike Pence when he was a Congressman for Ball State’s Congressional district. I interviewed him once for the NPR station in town, and he said he doesn’t campaign much on college campuses because young people don’t vote.

But Mark Cuban saw that I was crestfallen about this “I voted” sticker situation. And by “Mark Cuban,” I mean, “a college student opening doors for voters at the AAC.” While we waited for Clay Jenkins, one of the TV photographers and I were talking about the pins.

“Hey, you want a pin? I’ll get you guys some pins,” this modern day Patrick Henry offered.

So now, I can feature a Dallas Mavericks brand, “I voted,” pin, and now that it’s colder, that pin looks especially rugged with my Carhartt jacket. And this election no longer feels so discordant. Because we were all looking out for each other. We recognized we’re all mammals.