03/11/09
She went to rough neighborhoods in the 60s-70s to register voters. She always called me before to remind me to vote and after to verify that I had, even after the first time when she talked about voting being a hard-earned right for minorities and women. Her words for me somehow imbued the action of casting a ballot with the solemnity of a sacred rite. It must have been from her that I formed the idea that present-day voters exercise our right do so with a sense of responsibility to those who made it possible for us.
I voted for the first time in the Presidential election of 1988. The conversation was typical.
Mom: Did you vote yet?
Me: Not yet. I'll go after my Latin American history class.
Mom: Did you know that Ecuador granted women the right to vote before Spain did? Or was it Uruguay?
Me: That's cool! I'm gonna raise my hand today in class and say that!
Mom: Good. And while you're at it, remind your little school friends to vote. And your young man, too.
Me: Um...ok. My "young man"?? God, Mom! Did you vote yet?
Mom: Of course.
Me: Who'd you vote for?
Mom: As you know, in this country we have a right to a secret ballot and even though I don't have to tell you, I'm choosing to. And this is not to try to influence you to vote the same way I did. You can vote for whoever you want. I voted for Dukakis.
Me: Good job!
Mom: So...who are you gonna vote for?
Me: I don't have to tell you.
Mom: Damn right you don't! Good answer, kid.
Me: Thanks!
Mom: OK, but seriously this time...what are you gonna wear?
I'm not sure my answer to that one garnered the same approval. Besides, I was always pretty much convinced she could see me through the phone.
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