Last night, after all our students had left the University Writing Center, my colleague and I were closing up shop when she made a rather surprising announcement. “Jennifer,” she said, “I’m voting for Obama. Would you like to hear my reasons why?”

My jaw dropped to my chest, and I immediately took a seat. This colleague is a devoted independent. A 67-year-old lecturer in our English department, she is immensely respected for both her intellect and her gentleness. She is one of only a handful of people I’ve ever known who is genuinely kind and has that remarkable gift of commanding the instant attention of a crowd without raising her voice one decibel. Her students and fellow professors adore her. Politically, she’s one of the few real independents I’ve ever met. A few weeks ago, she listened to a Republican colleague and me debating about the presidential race. She never took a side, but asked some deep, thoughtful questions (as she always does) of both of us. I had no idea during that conversation which side she came down on.

So when she made this announcement last evening, I was shocked. Delighted, but shocked. I took a seat and listened attentively.

“Well, Saturday afternoon, I was puttering around the house,” she said, “when there was a knock at the door. I answered it, and there was a very nice-looking young man with his 5- or 6-year-old son. And he said he was out campaigning for Barack Obama and asked me if I had any questions about Obama that he might be able to answer. I told him that I didn’t really have any questions. And he asked if I had yet decided who I was going to vote for. To which I answered that, because I am legally blind, it is very difficult for me to get out and about and even more difficult for me to use those voting machines. So I was not planning to vote at all. And immediately, he whipped out an absentee ballot application and showed me which parts I needed to fill out. Wasn’t that nice?”

“That’s why you’re voting for Obama?” I asked her. I was a bit dumbfounded. It seemed like such a simple thing.

“Well, it may sound a bit silly,” she said, “but that’s what really got me started. Here was this very well-groomed, well-spoken young man, taking time out of his busy day to canvas our community and help an old lady do her civic duty. I liked that. He was a law student. Very nice young man.”

I laughed and told her I was really pleased he’d made such a good impression. A young man, under the influence of one of those “community organizers” Sarah Palin turned into a punch line at the RNC, made a difference not only in the life of my friend, but also in the campaign. Who’s laughing now? I thought to myself.

“Oh, but that was just one thing that happened this weekend. Two other things reinforced my decision.”

“What were they?” I asked.

“Well, Colin Powell’s endorsement impressed me tremendously. I’ve always respected him. And then that awful Rush Limbaugh’s reaction to Powell made me so angry,” she said. “To say that a brilliant general, an experienced politician, and a civil servant like Powell would make a momentous decision based solely on the color of his skin is such an insult to everything he’s done.”

“Limbaugh’s an ignorant toad,” I agreed.

“Yes. Well, the last thing happened with you actually, when you were taking me to the airport. Do you remember?” she asked me.

I could not recall our talking about politics at all that afternoon. We were leaving a meeting together, and I had volunteered to take her to the airport to catch a flight to Texas for a weekend visit with her son. It had been a fairly short ride, and I didn’t remember anything particular about our conversation.

“I forgot my suitcase,” she reminded me.

“Oh, yes.” I remembered that, but I didn’t really see how it pertained to Obama.

“It was such a stupid thing. You had even asked me if I had my suitcase, but I had grabbed the wrong bag,” she said. “I find myself doing that more and more as I get older. Not major mistakes, but more and more little ones. I am 67 years old, and I am well aware that my faculties are not what they used to be.

John McCain is 72.”

As I drove home last night, I was amazed by the personal nature of my colleague’s decision. She was split right down the middle on the issues - fiscally conservative, but socially liberal. It wasn’t the issues that swayed her. It wasn’t the politics. It was a knock on the door, a racist attack on an admired figure, a realization of one’s own fading sharpness. In the end, that’s what this whole thing’s about anyway, isn’t it? It’s not about a bunch of other creatures on some other planet doing things that mean nothing to us practically. We vote because we believe that one candidate will make a positive difference in our day-to-day struggle to get by.

So this weekend, one candidate gained one more vote. You can’t hope for much more than that.