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Back in 1976, a friend and I wanted to create a poll to see who our neighbors had voted for.

We took a sheet of paper, added the names of the candidates and went door to door asking questions. Some people refused to tell us; others jumped right to the task, giving us their opinion readily.

We were 10 years old. I'd like to attribute our nosiness to our new awareness of this thing called politics that seems to show its face every fall before November elections, especially presidential elections.

We arrived back at my house. A family friend, Clarence Jones, was talking to my father at the front door. We told them what we had been up to that afternoon. We showed them the three candidates on our paper; Jimmy Carter, Gerald Ford and Ronald Reagan.

As we explained our adventure, we laughed at the fact that some people had voted for Reagan. Then we asked my father and Jones who they had voted for. My dad did not disclose who he voted for, while Jones told us he had voted for Reagan. With our tails between our legs, we added his response to our tally and quickly excused ourselves.

If nothing else, it was a lesson in how not to do a poll. You do not mock one of the choices before getting your information.

In 1984, I was a newly registered voter, having registered at my high school one day in between classes early in my senior year. At 18, I was able to vote in my first election. The very candidate I mocked in my innocence at age 10 was the same candidate I supported with my first presidential vote.

My father drove me to Rankin Elementary School in Greensboro, our polling place. Because he had already voted, he just walked me inside. I went up to the voting booth and exercised one of the most valued privileges I have as an American citizen. My voice, combined with the voices of fellow Americans, would determine our next president.

On the way home, my father asked who I voted for. I told him, and he said I did well.

In 1992, I was a young stay-at-home mother. I saw sheriff's cars gathering around the train tracks across the street from my house late one October afternoon.

I soon learned that they were there for security as President George H.W. Bush would pass our house by train as he made his way to Burlington for a campaign stop.

As the train rolled by, I stood on the edge of my yard watching with my 2-year-old daughter, Hannah, in my arms. I carried her outside for this historic event so that I could tell her about it when she was old enough to understand.

I waved at the president as he went by. From the back platform of the train, he waved at those who had gathered nearby.

Now my daughter is 18 and will be voting in her first election. Like many young voters, she is informed and opinionated about her choices, not only for president, but also other races.

She knows the issues that are important to her, and she has been taught to vote for the candidate who lines up as closely as possible to her world view and position. I have no idea how she will vote, though I can venture a guess.

As Nov. 4 fades into Nov. 5 and all the campaign signs disappear, I can guarantee the residents of Gibsonville one thing: I will not be out polling them on who they voted for as I did when I was 10.

And with that election promise, a collective sigh of relief is heard throughout Eastern Guilford County.

Linda Vestal is a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend living in Gibsonville. Contact her with comments or story ideas at lindavestal@triad.rr.com.