Dear Lance,
Well, son, you may recall me making a suggestion to you from time to time. Over the 19 years you've been on this planet, I probably have made more than a couple of recommendations.
I suppose you might call these suggestions “nagging.” Look both ways before crossing the street. Take your vita-mins. Eat your vegetables. Turn on something other than car toons. Don't tease your sister. Finish your homework. Clean your room. You get the idea.
But now you are old enough to decide on your own whether to eat your green beans. And you also are old enough to vote.
Given our conversations on the subject, it is clear to me that I won't have to remind you to vote. You are excited to be voting and looking forward to your first time going to the polls. You realize that your vote can make a difference and, in a democracy, casting a vote is a cherished responsibility.
As you can imagine, I have some suggestions about how to exercise that responsibility.
First, get past the popularity surveys and media analyses of which candidate looks best on camera or speaks in the most melodious tones. Second, listen less to what the candidates say they will do than to how they say they can get it done. Third, evaluate everything through the lens of the Catholic values you grew up with, through your convictions that there are things that are right and wrong, moral and immoral. Fourth, think about how much the campaign promises would cost. Fifth, remember that government works best when it limits itself to the practical matters of maintaining security, building roads and bridges, cutting the grass in public parks and making sure the garbage is picked up. Sixth, social problems are better solved by private citizens and religious organizations than government bureaucracy.
Okay. Enough of the fatherly advice you aren't asking for. Fact is, you already know this stuff. I'm just excited about this “first” in your young life. After all, I've been around for a heap of your firsts. I remember the first diaper I changed and the first bath I gave you. I remember your baptism and your confirmation. How about that home run when you were about 12 that went over the fence and hit the garage across the street? And that 40-yard goal in the summer soccer league a couple years back? The junior prom, the senior prom, your first train. Remember how Santa stayed up all night setting everything up?
Of course, I very clearly remember your birth. When it was time to bring you and Mom home from the hospital, I was so thrilled, so proud, that I rented a limousine. I dressed up in a tuxedo and wore a silly chauffeur's hat. Then we stopped by your great-grandparents' to let them meet you. They were thrilled. You didn't say much.
And now you're going to vote. Since you are away at college, I hope you remembered to apply for an absentee ballot. But if you didn't, I'll drive to campus, pick you up, bring you home to vote and take you back. (But I won't rent a limousine this time — I have your tuition to pay for!)
I'm willing to do this for three very good reasons. I don't want you to miss your first opportunity to vote. The campus is only 30 miles from home. And you are likely to vote for the same people I vote for.
Jim Fair writes from Chicago.