It was an early November day, cold and snowy. My father, Walter, was 85 and recovering from cataract surgery gone bad. He did the things an 85-year-old did – he read his newspaper daily despite an 8th grade education, told WWII stories, and doted on his grandchildren. But there was one more thing he did on that cold, snowy November morning.
Moving slowly with a patch securely over his left eye, he sat down at the dining room table as I arrived.
“Daddy, it’s time to go vote,” I said.
“I don’t think I can this time,” he replied.
His answer was not unexpected but shocking nonetheless. I pondered for the longest moment and came up with this: “if you don’t vote, daddy, your guys won’t win”! He looked at me for a moment with a look of deep concern and a sudden sense of urgency. Slowly, he rose from his chair and headed toward the door. As if there was never a moment of hesitation, he walked past me at the door with these words, “What are you waiting for?”
Looking back, it was a teaching moment that voting was something the weather or a bad eye could not stop. It was that important. We are reminded that democracy is sustained not only by historic figures and grand speeches, it is the stuf...