A Father-Son Presidential Debate
Every evening I call and talk with the boys before they go to bed. Most nights the conversation is pretty much the same: Noah talks about Star Wars or The Justice League, making up complex stories complete with sub-plots and surprise twists. Harrison tells wild jokes and gives serious consideration to which girl he's going to marry this week. He seems to gravitate towards “cougars” as all of his prospects are first and second-graders. Sawyer condenses the events of the last three hours into a breathless, 15 second monologue. Adjectives and articles (such as a, an, and the) get in the way of his frenetic report and are dropped completely, leaving room for only “Sawyergotruckfunwithbrothersouchfelldownloveyoubye!” It is rare that I get a word in before he shuts off the phone.
Noah decided to change the subject on me the other night. I anticipated a continuation of our ongoing musings about what happened to Lex Luthor as a child that shaped him into the evil villain he is today. Instead, he surprised me with “Dad, who are you going to vote for in the presidential election?” The question sounds even better when spoken by a 9-year-old who actually knows what he's asking and expects a sincere answer.
“Well, I'm not sure, son.” Which was the truth. I hadn’t even registered to vote yet and I was rather indifferent on the matter. He seemed to sense the apathy in my voice and was apparently not pleased.
“You are going to vote? Right, Dad? You know voting is important.” He sounded exactly like those volunteers that work the phones as pollsters for various political campaigns. Except that he still had the unmarred, child-like faith that I couldn’t bear to crush. Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, each vote counts. I knew I must handle this discussion gracefully and leave my hard-earned political cynicism aside.
“You’re right Noah, it is very important.”
“Who do you like the best? Who do you think will win?” His questions were becoming rapid and unrelenting like a trial lawyer aggressively cross-examining a nervous witness. He was trying to trip me up and I knew I needed step it up a notch. Fight fire with a little fire, as they say.
“Well, to be honest, son, I don't know. In my estimation, given the stage of the election it's too far out to make a prediction. However, after the primary elections are complete we will have a clearer picture of the likely outcome. There is plenty of time yet for public perception to be swayed.” Now who's smarter than a 5th-grader?
“I can see that. You make excellent points.” He didn't miss a beat. “You know who I think will win, Dad?”
“No, I don't, Noah. Who do you think will win?”
“Barack Obama.” His answer was simple yet confident and spoken with that same unnerving and confident faith. And for whatever reason I recalled the time when I found Noah at age three sitting alone on the floor and staring at the wall. As I watched him sit there motionless for several minutes I started to fear that maybe he was manifesting early signs of autism. I eventually got his attention and asked him what he was doing. In a voice much older than his three years, he explained quite succinctly, “I’m thinking about stuff.” With that memory in mind I finally admitted to myself that I was over-matched in the discussion. But I was still curious to hear his reasoning. “Really? Obama? Why is that, son?”
“I have a good feeling about him.”
“A good feeling? A good feeling?” I shot back. I finally saw my opportunity to pounce and gain the upper hand. I've noticed that when interviewers want to passive aggressively challenge the credibility of a guest's statement they respond by asking a question twice in row making sure that the repeat is phrased dramatically slower as if they were trying to understand directions by Japanese tourists. I congratulated myself for having ability to skillfully imitate this advanced tactic.
“Yeah, Dad. A good feeling.”
“That's all you got? Feelings?!” Good, Ron. Keep repeating yourself.
“Well, I gotta go Dad. Mom says it's my turn for bedtime stories. Bye! Love you! Give you to Harrison. Bye! Love you!”
Hey! No fair. I was just beginning to feel smart again. I bet George Stephanopoulos didn't use his mom as an excuse to duck out when the questions got a little too tough to answer. Fine. Go on and finish your Time Magazine articles before bed. Despite my disappointment that a victory in political debate with 3rd grader had eluded me I felt very proud to have a son so aware of the world around him.
Thirty seconds later, 6 year-old Harrison was on the line demonstrating that he too was aware of the world around him. The only difference being that Harrison's world consisted mainly of the female sex as he explained how today he kissed this older broad in Noah's class. I at least took comfort in the fact that explaining the “birds and the bees” to Harrison was a subject that didn't exceed the grasp of my understanding. However, that relief was short-lived with the realization that my sons quite possibly were headed down a road that would make them the future reincarnation of the Kennedys - Robbert, Bobbie and Ted! And with that, the vision of my youngest son, Sawyer crashing his Big Wheel off the sidewalk and skinning the knee of some “unknown, female passenger” played out before my eyes.
“This could be trouble,” I thought. However, it also occurred to me the role that the Kennedy's father Joe played in shaping his son's awareness of the world, making for a poignant reminder of what my sons will learn from me.
As an epilogue to this little story I've included a picture that I found of Barack OBama posing with Superman. I don't know if Noah saw this picture and that's what prompted his so called, “good feeling,” but I do know that if I reinforce in my boys the beliefs in truth, justice and the American way (and treating women respectfully) while being responsible for their actions then they can't go wrong regardless if they run for President or they run a dry-cleaning store.
