MISSOURI WATCH: THE MAKER OF DECISIONS: EACH VOTER HOLDS THE POWR OF SELF-RULE

I can almost feel it in the air. The only way to measure it is in hours, not days, for the event is too important to relegate to the back of my mind, and besides, it keeps coming to the front despite my best efforts.

In a very short time, I will arise in the morning with a special feeling, a sense of purpose, an excitement that reminds me of Christmas morning or my birthday. I will get out of bed, for I know what I have to do.

It will be the day of America's Election.

I like to move more leisurely on this special day. I like to linger over my paper for any last-minute information. I like turning to CNN to see what is being reported. I even like to shave more deliberately. For I have somber decisions to make.

Will I approve the creation of a Facilities Maintenance Reserve Fund and order that $5,400,000 be placed there each year to maintain and repair existing state buildings?

Do I want a new department in Jefferson City to care for the needs of senior citizens? Or do I want this job done by a present office in the Department of Social Services?

As I shave, staring into the mirror with unseeing absorption, I will think about whether I want cities in the state to issue revenue bonds for sewer treatment and water plants. Is this the best way to modernize municipal services or is there a better way?

And should I approve a Budget Stabilization Fund to handle "rainy day" expenses when state collections are down? Why hasn't this been done in the past? And will the money be deposited even if school fund distributions are being reduced? I had better think carefully, for this is my money and my state government, and I want to make sure I have my facts correct and can vote wisely. Yes, I must decide wisely and well.

I will tie my tie and put on my coat and drive slowly from my home to the small foyer in the Municipal Building where the residents of my ward cast their ballots. I like to drive slowly on these mornings. For I must decide who shall be my governor and who my state representative and who my prosecuting attorney. I must decide who shall rule me, who shall represent me and who shall defend my interests. These truly are decisions of grave import.

There will be few outward signs of this momentous day. Traffic will not be heavy and there will be only the normal number of pedestrians. Nothing extraordinary. The only splash of color will be the large American flag hanging over the polling place, gay and brave in the gentle breeze. Just like always.

In the small room the same clerks will be seated around a table that holds the documents needed for a plebiscite. They always are. They will say "Hello" and "Nice day" or "Kind of cold." They always do. Then the first clerk will ask my name and I will respond. And then the clerk will look for me in her huge doomsday ledger. When she finds me, she will nod and smile to indicate that I belong. She always does.

I will step into the portable tin booth and draw the thin curtain to blank out the world. The dullness of my temporary office will surprise me. The large ballot before me has tiny emblems, names and offices to be filled. Where are the brass bands and the pretty girls? Where are the citizens' committees and the fiery speeches? Where are the bumper strips and billboards and banners and television commercials? Where are they now? The noise of my marking pen on the ballot is the only sound I can hear in the room.

Another clerk will say good-by and the others will nod in friendly fashion. I am not sure of all their names, but there is a rapport between us for we meet in the commission of a righteous deed. There is a rapport between us makers of decisions.

Some of my decisions will prove unacceptable, some unworkable, some unwise. For I am far from infallible. It matters little. For I have done my best to rule myself, to represent myself, to defend myself. It will be a priceless day, a day in which I have reconfirmed my independence and my importance. A priceless day for privileged citizens.

In the evening I will set aside a few minutes to think of those who have never shared this experience, those at home who won't and those abroad who can't. And I will feel sorry for them. I always do.

~Jack Stapleton of Kennett is the editor of the Missouri News and Editorial Service.