No More Tonsils

When I can collect my thoughts and face this little case of writers' block and the blues I've got, I'll try to upload a NYC pic and blab a blog like I did all over facebook about how the big trip was and what I did, etc., etc. But for now, I just have it in me to tell quickly about a proud moment in my life today. After tennis and running errands trying to get prepared to have my tonsils ripped out of my throat on Wednesday, I did something with my son that is quite the rite of passage in my lineage. I voted early with my 3yo old son, Thomas.

Growing up in my family it was a huge deal to have every of-age voter informed and ready to #2 pencil in our bubbles on election day. My mom would faithfully bring home her sticker that said, "I voted today!" and stick it in a place where my dad and all the rest of us were sure to see it. Well today, Thomas went with me to the Washington County Courthouse, held my hand and walked up three flights of stairs where I presented my ID and took my place proudly in line with my son.

"Electronic or manual?" the clerk said. "Electronic," I said. I thought Thomas would think it was cool to help me push the buttons on the screen. I was right. Although I was nervous he'd hit the wrong one several times, I read the ballot issues out loud to him and we'd hit the appropriate button together with the slight of my helping hand.

Now, this simple act of voting was surely more exciting and sentimental for me than for him. You see, I would do this with my dad as a little girl. That little girl felt so important to get to stand behind that red curtain with him.

And so the tradition continues.

It is now my job is to teach my sons how important that simple act is and how grateful we should be to get to carry that act out with pride and informed virtue. I will now unfold the newspaper and lay it on the kitchen table for "light reading" as Dad used to call it, so that they will learn to appreciate what having a vote means. Fighting a tear or two away now, it's done. Nothing makes me think of him more than an election year. Miss you, Dad.