This is a repost from a Tumblr series that I called “My perfect dad.” I’m preserving these older stories and continuing to write new ones available on this site first.
My grandfather always told me I would get more conservative as I got older. He told me about how he voted for Roosevelt in 1944 and Kennedy in 1960, but as he eased into middle age, his priorities changed. Voting for Reagan made sense in 1980 and even more sense in 1984. He said it was only natural. “You’ll see, my boy. Happens to everyone.”
I never believed him. As I got older, the opposite seemed to happen. I became even more enthusiastically liberal with age. My grandfather was wrong about me.
And then I met You, Son.
Handsome, young, and conservative, You are the exception that proves my grandfather’s rule. The first time W/we met, when You set up your table next to mine at the convention center, I’ll be honest, Son, I thought You were a little shit. Sorry, Son, pardon my French. I thought You were a little jerk. Full of youthful ignorance and all attitude, You acted like nobody with half a brain could possibly disagree with You.
Heh. I disagreed with You. At first.
I was so damn—sorry, darn—attracted to the passion You brought to political debate, Son. The more W/we talked, the more confident and reasonable Your points sounded, and the more I found myself feeling uncertain and confused by the positions I was defending.
It was like that every time W/we met, Son. Until I finally just stopped debating You and started listening. It was then I realized how wrong I was about everything. I felt foolish and dumb for having clung to my indefensible points of view for so long. I should have abandoned them decades ago, Son. You taught me that the night I moved You into my house and W/we read the Constitution together.
My grandfather was right. Men get more conservative as they get older. It’s only natural. I can’t wait to see what happens to You, Son.
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