The script for election day is a familiar one. During the day, voters will stream into polling places and go through the ritual of indicating their choices for president, representative, and maybe senator, governor, mayor, councilperson, dogcatcher, and so forth all down the ballot. Little rituals at the polling place reinforce the ideals of our elections: we register to vote so that each person gets only one vote; we pull a curtain around us when marking our ballots to ensure our votes are secret; hawk-eyed old ladies watch the entire process because every vote must be counted.

Starting between 7 and 8 PM Eastern, we start clicking on our TV sets to watch the results come in. State by state, as the polls close, the networks announce projected winners and maps start getting colored blue and red--colors which seemed somewhat arbitrary once, but which now have the force of tradition and will probably never change.

At some point, probably after 10 PM Eastern, one of the networks will cut to its most experienced anchor. He (for they are all "he's") will pause a moment to emphasize the enormity of his next words, which will be exactly these:

"Ladies and gentlemen, based on exit polls and early returns with [XX] states reporting in, we're calling the election for [George Bush or John Kerry]." This statement may be repeated once or twice for emphasis.

This statement will be followed by an infographic showing how the winning candidate now has over 270 electoral votes in the bag. Within minutes all the other networks will follow suit. With the dramatic tension relieved, coverage will shift to senate and congressional races, with the occasional mop-up presidential result.

About a half-hour later, the losing candidate will make his final speech of the campaign. He will thank his volunteers, his family, and his staff for all their hard work. He will say that everyone fought hard, but that it is now time to come together and work with the [new or re-elected] president to meet the challenges we all face as a nation. The mood will be somber, but gracious.

Shortly after that, the winning candidate will also make a short speech. He will also thank his volunteers, family, and staff, and promise to work with the opposing side to come together as a nation and face our problems head-on. The mood will be festive, with cheering and partying visible in the room.

And then the majority of us will turn off our TV sets and go to bed, secure in the knowledge that our country has made its decision (for good or ill) and we can move on with the rest of our lives. Only the die-hards will stay up to catch the late returns from Alaska and Hawaii.

Four years ago, these rituals were short-circuited in the ignominious spectacle of a concession which was retracted, and an acceptance which didn't quite happen. We then watched for weeks as lawyers and partisans argued over who really won the election, culminating in an unprecedented Supreme Court decision which left nobody except the winners happy.

But these rituals of democracy are important. The function of rituals is to reinforce shared expectations, and create clearly understood demarcations in our lives. When the losing candidate concedes, he isn't just stating the obvious. He's telling everyone--especially his supporters--that he accepts the outcome and that it is time to start working towards shared goals instead of against the opponent. When the winner accepts, he's telling his supporters that he'll govern for everyone, not just his partisans. In our system, the President is President of all of us, not just one party.

I wouldn't blame all the partisanship of the past four years on the failure of election night to follow the script. But it certainly didn't get the current administration off to a good start.

After this most bitterly political campaign, what America most needs is a truly decisive election--for either party. We need a margin of victory wide enough that neither party will see it as worth challenging in the courts: 100 or more electoral votes would do nicely. I know this isn't what the latest polls say will happen, but polls have a funny way of being wrong when it comes to "close" elections.

And tomorrow evening, I hope and pray that before I go to bed, I will hear one candidate or the other thank his supporters for their hard work, and urge them to work with the winner to solve our many problems. That's when I'll know we can truly put the past year behind us.