My oldest son carries on with a family tradition: Dissing his father politically.
We had the (meaningless, as always) NJ Primary this week, and we mailed in our ballots over the weekend.
I did the usual, voted straight down the line for Biden, Booker, etc...etc...
My son, however, went through this exercise of going to everybody's website - and then voted for that asshole Bernie Sanders and some guy named Hamm.
I offered to mail his ballot, and he insisted on accompanying me to the mailbox to make sure I mailed it.
The prompted a story from me about how when I was about his age - he's 25 - I went to court and got an injunction - from a judge whose son was a friend of mine - to be allowed to vote by machine, because the registrar's screwed up and they gave me a ballot that they wanted me to sign; I insisted on a secret ballot and came back with the court order.
In New Jersey, we sign our mail in ballots. I'm too old to fight these things now.
Later, we when got back to the house, my son - who loves stories of his grandparents (who he never met) - told me what my mother (a swing voter) used to say to my father (a devout Republican) whenever she voted Democratic. "I canceled your vote!" my son told me in honor of his grandmother.
Little bastard. (Actually, he's not so little; he towers over me; he's six foot four.)
Later we went up to meet his brother's new girlfriend, a very nice young woman, and my wife told her about the family tradition whereby my father and I would have heated political arguments while my wife and step mother went out for a nice quiet and peaceful breakfast.
When I'm gone, I hope my son will love my memory as much I love the memory of my father, Republican bastard though he was. I'd do anything to have a screaming fight with my father again.
I love my sons.
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