The Meeting

On this Election Day, I am very grateful to be an American, very grateful for early voting (because I don’t have to go wait in line in the rain today), and very grateful that Presidential elections only happen every four years.

Today reminded me of a conversation I had with my firstborn back in the spring of 2008, when he was only five years old. I had been listening to a lot of talk radio in an attempt to keep some brain cells from withering away and vanishing forever and to keep myself at least abreast of what people talked about when they weren’t worrying about baby poop or preschool snacks. I suppose Mason heard a lot of talk about the Presidential candidates, because one day, from the way back of the car, he started asking me questions.

“Who is the President, Mama?”

“You mean right now?”

“Yes. Who is the President right now?”

“That would be George Bush.”

“Huh.” Pause. “That’s a funny name.”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” [Sidebar: I never thought about how Presidents’ last names sound to children. Bush is kind of a funny name when said by itself.]

I explained to Mason in the year ahead we would be getting a new President. I told him that people were in the process of running for the office , and we would vote on a new President in the fall.

“What are their names?” he asked.

“One is named John McCain. One is named Hillary Clinton. And one is named Barack Obama.” I waited to see if he commented on that set of names, since he found George Bush to be so unusual. But he didn’t. He just looked out the window.

“Which one has the ‘rock’ in his name again?” he asked.

“Barack. Barack Obama. You can just call him Obama.”

“The Rock Obama. I like that name.” Pause. “Can we just vote for all three of them?”

“Um, no. In fact, we’re only going to get to choose between two of them.”

“Oh.” Big pause. Then, “Does everyone get to go to the meeting?”

“What meeting?” I replied, confused.

“THE meeting. The meeting where we vote,” Mason said, a little exasperated with my thickness.

I was happy to let him know that yes, everyone over the age of eighteen gets to go to “the meeting,” but his question stuck in my head both then and now. Today, the past year and change of relentless ads and vitriol and mudslinging and commentary and speculation do not matter anymore. Today we get to vote. And the most important thing about today is that everyone does get to go to the meeting, because our nation does extend the chance to vote to every single citizen regardless of race, gender, or creed.

Now it is your responsibility to honor our country and the people who fought for the liberty we have and exercise that right.

Go to the meeting, people.