It’s hard to believe that 4 months have passed since my previous post. A lot has happened. Lots of changes. A new season. A new President. A new economic crisis.
Change is good, right? Well, maybe not all of it.
I guess I made a conscious decision somewhere along the way to sit out the election season. It wasn’t that I had no opinions…no, I had plenty. I think instead it was just a sense of frustration in the process and the inability to see any real change in the making. Which is odd, considering both the major candidates were running on a platform of Change.
But here we are, and I find myself convinced that yet another fraud has been foisted upon the unwitting American public. The press has colluded with the powers that be to render the voice of the people ineffective and void. Sure we had a choice. I just wished there was one I could get behind.
So along came election day and I prepared myself to perform my civic duty. Still, I could not decide.
Hours remained until the first results were to start coming in, and I could not make a selection. The press had convinced me that my vote was useless in any case, that my residency in Connecticut ensured that my electors would be voting for Sen. Obama regardless of my ballot. So why, I wondered, should I bother?
I decided to make a difference anyway. I took my son with me, two days shy of turning nine, and a video camera. I filmed as we drove, explaining to him that HE would be making our choice for President. As I could not decide, HIS would be the vote that would not count. OK, I didn’t put it exactly that way…
He earnestly protested, saying that he could TELL ME who to vote for, but that the law required me to actually CAST THE VOTE. Despite my attempts to convince him otherwise…that we could get permission from the election officials, and that I was sure it would be OK…I finally agreed to his compromise.
We entered the polling place, and got our ballot. I prepared my black marker to fill in the correct bubble, and bent down so that he could whisper his choice in my ear…”John McCain” he told me.
So be it…choice made. The bubble was filled in, as well as the requisite additional local choices, and we were off to the ballot reader to submit the document.
Strangely, allowing an almost-nine-year-old to fill in the bubble for our choice on the ballot was an act of treason, but depositing the completed document in the electronic scanner was perfectly permissible…and so he sent our ballot off into the void of useless votes.
Outside the polling place I asked him the reasoning behind his choice for President. He explained that he felt Sen. McCain’s service to the country in the military was the main criteria which qualified him to lead our country, and that even though most of his friends thought Sen. Obama should be President, he wasn’t afraid to believe otherwise.
Tears nearly filled his eyes the next morning when I informed him that Barack Obama would be our next President. I think he was more concerned that his friends would make fun of him (they didn’t) than anything else. But I knew at that moment that my vote…our vote…HAD made a difference.
It made a difference because my son had a chance to be a part of it. He participated in the American Experiment. He somehow could feel what it meant, and not only learned about the process, but also about what it means to stand up for your beliefs in the face of disagreement.
I doubt he understood the ramifications of the election…I doubt any of us will truly understand them for years or decades to come. But I think that he felt a little bit of what it means to be a part of history…a small part.
So now we all will sit back and wait to see what changes will come. I think we’ll all be disappointed.
Change rarely comes in drastic abundance. Change in this Grand Republic comes in trickles and drops. And while our destiny is certainly in the hands of our leaders, so too is it in our own hands. Will we rally together behind this new administration, or will we fall to bickering and blaming of the other side?
Time and history will tell.
We are all part of history. That lesson is the most important one to be learned as an American.
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