Went to bed in Ward 2-Woke up to in Ward 3

So I went to bed with my voter card saying I was in Ward 2.

Woke up to find my NEW voter card says, Ward 3. Ah.

Chicago politics at it's best. Or is that, at its worst. How the hell did my ward change before the clock ran out on the Ward 2 Alderman's term?

Chicago politics. Sometimes like playing a counting game with a four-year-old, and I know from 4-year-olds.

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    Candace Drimmer

    I was an accidental expatriate; love and marriage led me to it. One day I was a bandy-legged kid sitting atop my dogwood tree looking out of my small backyard world in 1950s New Jersey, wanting to move somewhere--anywhere, different. Next thing I knew my father had accepted a job in Houston TX. I was ecstatic, it was a foreign land in 1961 America. After high school graduation, my parents’ gave me a matched set of fawn-colored hardsided American Tourister luggage. Taking the hint, I went to college; well four colleges in five years--it was the 60s after all. Meeting a young hirsute anti-war, soon-to-be-Peace Corps volunteer, I fell in love. After finishing up college coursework for my degree, but before I even walking a graduation stage, I grabbed the paper airline ticket my boyfriend had sent me, my brand-new passport, and was off to the airport and Lima, Peru.

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