Election Day in Carmel Valley is a festive celebration of community.

Election Day, 6:45am, Monterey County Precinct 132, Carmel Valley Community Chapel: the American flag is draped outside the door, poll rosters nailed to posts. A few voters wait in the emerging light and lessening chill for Precinct Inspector Bud Carlson, a retired U.S. Navy pilot, to proclaim, at precisely 7am: "The polls are now open."

Over the next 14-plus hours, beginning with an initial flurry of early-bird voters and ending with the task of poring over 310 ballot envelopes, I am an election day worker.

Bud, 72, a longtime Carmel Valley volunteer, is in charge. My other co-workers are Bernadine "Bernie" Van Ostrand-a retired registered nurse who shares a homemade chocolate cake with us on this, her 80th birthday-and Dr. Vin Murphy, a retired obstetrician in his 70s, and a proud Notre Dame graduate still nursing the pain of his alma mater''s first football loss of the season three days earlier. We quickly meld into an affable group.

Vin, a rookie, and I making my second appearance, are the precinct clerks. Bernie, a veteran of several years, is the judge, a notch ahead of us; Vin and I will receive $90 apiece, Bernie and inspector Bud somewhat more. I will get another $10 because my cell phone is used to communicate with the elections department in Salinas. Bud, who has been doing this for about 10 years, says he is carrying on a tradition established by his late mother.

Four open booths provide limited privacy and a folding table affords none. All are equipped with somewhat cranky, hand-operated ballot-punch devices. One is already loose at the start of the day. Another breaks down and is removed by mid-afternoon.

The room quickly takes on the ambience of a general store on a celebratory day. Folks pause before, after and even while voting to renew acquaintances, discuss children and share news about work, travel and health.

"You see all your friends that you don''t see for a year," Bernie says.

A woman brings in a wrapped birthday present for Bernie. One man talks about how his sons, cross-country runners, are faring. A woman recognizes Dr. Murphy as the physician who delivered her daughter in Los Altos years ago. I introduce myself to a man who lives down the street. Everyone does not know everyone else, but there are fewer than six degrees of separation.

One of my neighbors, who is a schoolteacher, and a realtor friend arrive within minutes. The owner of the laundry where my shirts are cleaned, a neighbor who takes long walks with a parrot on his shoulder, the elementary school counselor who helped my daughter cope with the death of her grandfather, the owner of the Mexican restaurant where my family dines regularly, my daughter''s fourth grade teacher, the Sunday School principal at my synagogue, the public defender up the road, all follow.

Florida''s massive 2000 election problems have left indelible marks. Jokes regularly surface about hanging chads. When two friends simultaneously err and turn in spoiled ballots for fresh ones, one tells the other, "They are going to send us to Florida."

Scattered complaints arise from people unable to punch ballots, but often this is because they have put all five cards in the device at the same time. With their ballots now spoiled, each is handed a new set.

Frequently, a registered voter''s name is missing from our precinct list, but it is usually found on the rolls of Precinct 130, at the other side of the room.

Voters place completed ballot cards in an envelope and hand them to Bud, Bernie, Vin or me. We tear off the stubs and then carefully drop the envelopes into a narrow slot in a locked ballot box. Nearly every voter watches to make sure the envelope is correctly deposited.

In the morning, there is a steady stream of about 25 voters per hour. The numbers rise to 32 between 4 and 5pm, then peak at 43 between 5 and 6pm, with people stopping on their way home from work. In the final hour, 7 to 8pm, about a dozen arrive, just a couple within the last 30 minutes. At 8pm, Bud announces, "The polls are now closed."

We start dismantling the booths shortly before 8pm, leaving one voting area intact. The ballot box is opened and the packets counted, but we tally no votes. We add up the number of ballot packets, spoiled ballots and those set aside in pink envelopes. To our collective dismay, we have 10 fewer than the number who voted, 310. I doublecheck, discovering my math error of 10. The numbers now match precisely. Relief.

We clean up, exchange thanks, turn off the lights, lock the doors and head home. Bud drives the ballots to a designated drop-off spot where an Elections Department van will take them and carry them to Salinas. Carmel Valley Precinct 132 has voted.

Lewis Leader, a Carmel Valley resident, is freelance writer and former journalist at the Herald, the San Francisco Examiner, the Toledo Blade and the Los Angeles Times.