I have been a Democrat all my life. My whole family
was Democrat, a good liberal Democrat Catholic family. My dad was an
American History teacher and he spent my childhood teaching his daughters
to not only love their country but to speak out against the government
when necessary. My uncle was an activist priest who not only helped write
Head Start legislation, but also lobbied against violence in Central
America and discrimination against women in the Catholic Church. I can
remember knocking on doors for Kennedy when I was 7. The first time I ever
saw my mother cry was when I was 10 and they killed my president. By the
time I was in high school, the Vietnam War was raging on and I can
remember my parents arguing that LBJ wasn't doing enough to end the war.
They weren't the least bit surprised when he decided not to run in 1968.
And then my mother cried again when Martin Luther King was killed and 2
months later, more tears when Bobby was killed.
This I believe, that our heroes are too often shot down in the prime of
their lives.
My whole family hated Nixon.
When I was in high school, he came to Kansas City and my school handed out
free tickets to go see him at Municipal Auditorium. My dad thought I was
nuts that I wanted a ticket to go see him. But I was a teenager, I hadn't
really been paying attention to politics, and it was the president! So I
went. And when we got down there, they had overbooked the auditorium and
literally thousands of other high schoolers with free tickets in their
hands were standing there on the street, angry that they couldn't get in
the auditorium to see the president. Across the street, there was a large
group of people holding signs against the war in Vietnam. It was early, I
was out on a school night and there were some really cute boys in that
group across the street. And my parents were against the war. So I went to
my first anti-war protest. I met some of those really cute boys and they
invited me to come down to Volker Park on Sundays and join their regular
protests. So I became part of the anti-war movement in my hometown. I was
16.
This I believe, that speaking
out against an unjust war is a right of every American citizen.
In 1972, I was 18 and the voting
age had just been lowered from 21 so I could vote in my first election. I
was so excited. I studied all the candidates and early on decided that
McGovern was the man for the job. My dad went with me to register to vote.
I think he had a tear in his eye, seeing his oldest child finally grow up
and be a part of the political process he so treasured. It was summer and
I was home from college, and we spent many evenings on the porch, my dad
and I, talking about the war and the draft and the need for it all to be
over. And yes, we talked about how bad Nixon was and the Watergate breakin.
Then about mid-summer (as I
remember it), McGovern chose Tom Eagleton as his running mate. Being from
Kansas City, we knew a lot about Eagleton and we were thrilled with his
selection. He was almost a hometown boy! My dad had even met him a few
times. This was so neat!!
Then McGovern dropped Eagleton
because he had a history of depression. Say what? My dad and I no longer
had civil conversations on the porch that summer. My dad thought it was
McGovern's right to choose whoever he wanted, my mom was livid and knew
this move would destroy McGovern's chances and I was furious that a
history of depression meant that a man could not be vice president. It was
unfair and I never got over that. So in October, when my absentee ballot
arrived at my college in the mail, I noticed there was a place I could
write in a candidate. My favorite TV show was Smother Brothers. One of the stars
was running for president and so I wrote in 'Pat Paulsen'. My dad called
to remind me to fill in my ballot and get it in the mail on time and I
told him I had already sent it in.
I can still hear my dad's voice
on the phone when I told him I had written in Pat Paulsen. He was mad. He
told me I was his daughter who had always marched to a different drummer
and he wasn't surprised but he was ashamed that I had wasted my first ever
vote for president.
This I believe. I will vote for
whomever I want, regardless of what my dad would tell me to do. And the
Democratic party will often disappoint me.
Then I got married and had kids
and spent about 20 years being a mom and a teacher and politics didn't
seem as interesting anymore. I voted in every election, I studied the
candidates and the Democrat always got my support for president. I always
voted for school levies and tried to figure out who the Democratic
candidates were in local non-partisan races. And my dad and I had more
arguments on the porch during the Reagan years. My mom liked him, my dad
thought he was a great American and I thought he was evil. "Don't be so
dramatic, dear!" I heard that many many times. But in the grand scheme of
things in my life, politics were not all that important.
This I believe. Ronald Reagan's
term was the beginning of the end of the American dream my parents were so
proud of. And I am mad at myself that I didn't pay attention carefully
enough while he was president.
Years passed, my kids grew up,
my dad got Parkinson's and slowly died in 1999. Then an insane man from
Texas, a man my dad had described as "very dangerous" ran for president. I
can still remember how sad I was in December 2000. How could the Supreme
Court do this? Oh well, time to pay attention to other things instead.
Then we invaded Iraq. I watched
the whole thing on CNN. I was stunned. And I decided I had better do more
than just be stunned. So I volunteered to be a moveon activist in 2004. I
worked phone banks and I knocked on doors and I sent money and I did
everything I could to drive out the bush regime. And on the day after the
election in November 2004, I cried. I was no longer sad; I was mad. So I
got on the internet every night and read everything I could get my hands
on so I could figure out what had happened. Within a month or so, I knew
how wrong all this was. And I knew how evil the Republicans were.
This I believe. The 2004
election was stolen from America.
Then in August of 2005, my
friend suggested we go down to Crawford Texas and join Cindy Sheehan in
the ditch. I thought my friend was nuts but I was on vacation and
had nothing better to do. So I went.
That's when my life changed.
I have been back to Crawford 4
times since then. It's not only about Cindy. I keep going back to see the
people who run the Peace House and to see the people who are at Camp
Casey. Their passion is infectious. While I raised my kids and didn't
really pay attention, these people marched. Against violence in Central
America, against the buildup of the military industrial complex in this
country, against the School of the Americas. They sell t-shirts and have
garage sales to pay for their plane fare. They give away frequent flyer
miles when another activist can't afford a plane ticket. They pack more
people in a hotel room than my poor college friends did when we traveled
to out of state concerts. And they believe very passionately that saving
our country is their duty and the most important thing any of them can be
doing at this time.
This I believe. The people who
criticize Cindy Sheehan have absolutely no idea how powerful a movement
she has built. Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed
citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.
We who work with Cindy know how very true that Margaret Mead quote is.
And now in 2007, after what I
have learned, I firmly believe that bushco is the worst thing to ever
happen to this country. My dad would probably tell me the civil war was
worse, and we would undoubtedly be on his porch arguing about this. But I
know he would be proud of me for putting my money where my mouth is and my
feet on the ground. I know he would detest bushco and their war on the
America he was so proud of. And I am so glad my dad is not here to see
what is happening. I have a feeling it would make him cry.
[Ed. - To send a
response to Anne, send an email to publisher (at) equalityherald.com.)
was Democrat, a good liberal Democrat Catholic family. My dad was an
American History teacher and he spent my childhood teaching his daughters
to not only love their country but to speak out against the government
when necessary. My uncle was an activist priest who not only helped write
Head Start legislation, but also lobbied against violence in Central
America and discrimination against women in the Catholic Church. I can
remember knocking on doors for Kennedy when I was 7. The first time I ever
saw my mother cry was when I was 10 and they killed my president. By the
time I was in high school, the Vietnam War was raging on and I can
remember my parents arguing that LBJ wasn't doing enough to end the war.
They weren't the least bit surprised when he decided not to run in 1968.
And then my mother cried again when Martin Luther King was killed and 2
months later, more tears when Bobby was killed. 
