Posted on 10/31/2004 11:17:40 AM PST by Lucretia Borgia
All I wanted was a little undivided Dad time with The Kid. Just an hour or two of sitting on the couch together, chilling out, and watching something harmless and mindless on the tube. For just -- oh, two hours -- I would have been really happy to not think about work, or the election, or terrorism, or the local political crapstorm currently swirling around my gun club, or anything else except sharing a few innocent laughs with my 9-year-old son. The broadcast showing of "Monsters Inc." last night looked like just the ticket.
I can hear you snickering already. Yeah. Right. Dream on.
His innocence survived the first few political commercial barrages, but about half an hour into the show, after one particularly nasty exchange of ads and counter-ads, The Kid finally turned to me with a question.
"Dad? What's abortion?"
My wife, who has been after me for some weeks now to give him The Talk, immediately got out one of her medical dictionaries and started explaining fertilization and conception in explicit anatomical detail. This, as usual, just confused the little guy even further, so I interrupted and gave him a somewhat simpler answer.
"An abortion is when a woman who is pregnant decides that she doesn't want to be a mommy, so they kill the baby and take it out of her."
His eyes went wide. "That's disgusting! There should be a law against that!" He considered it a few moments further, then climbed into my lap and sat there, shuddering, for the next half-hour, while his mother and I worked to convince him that we would never, ever, even think of doing something like that. But as he settled down, I got to thinking: a 9-year-old gets it.
Why doesn't John Kerry?
So after that we went back to sitting side-by-side, watching the rest of the movie, and enjoying the simple, childish humor and the pratfall gags. But when the commercial breaks came on I avoided my usual practice of hitting the "mute" button, and instead concentrated on really hearing what John Kerry and his supporters wanted me to hear in these last days before the election. And this is what I learned:
Whoa. Pick one. The Kyoto Protocols, if enacted, will penalize "smokestack" industries in the U.S. and subsidize them in the 3rd World. This will be an amazingly powerful incentive to export entire manufacturing industries overseas. You can oppose offshoring or you can support Kyoto, but you can't do both.
Again, how can he do both? I actually went to his official website later to learn the answer and found that his plan is to "harness the full force of American optimism and ingenuity." Oh, that'll work. While he's at it, why not bottle children's screams? It worked in Monsters Inc.
If you believe that, I've got a ranch in Montana I want to sell you. It's right next to Tom Brokaw's place. You know, Tom Brokaw, the guy who is suing his neighbors on the grounds that archery hunting on their 2,500-acre property is a threat to the peace and safety of his employees and guests? The same Tom Brokaw who enjoys and permits upland bird hunting on his own property?
If you admire the European model, in which you can do all the hunting you like, provided you do it on your own estate using a $5,000 hand-fitted Italian double-barrelled shotgun, then by all means, vote for Kerry. But any other hunter or gun-owning commoner who believes that their 2nd Amendment rights will survive a Kerry presidency really needs to quit drinking so heavily.
The Kid noticed my reaction, and turned and looked at me again. "Dad? Is there something in your eye?"
I had to think really hard, before I could answer that one. I tried to figure out how to explain to my son that there were some of us who could never forgive John Kerry for what he did back in 1971. I thought of those who could have given him a much better answer, except that they will never speak again: of Dean, who served two tours as a door gunner on a Huey and went to his grave unable to talk about it; of Tom, who committed slow suicide by alcoholism trying to forget what he'd done and seen; of Dick, whose plane didn't make it back to the carrier and whose body was never recovered; of Lance, whose family would much rather have their son than that posthumous Medal of Honor. Who would I rather have my son think is an authentic hero: John Kerry or Lance Sijan?
Nine-year-olds should never have to deal with such things. "Yeah, there was something in my eye for a moment. Hey, do you want some popcorn?"
The Kid lit up in a grin. "All right! Extra butter!" We got off the couch, went into the kitchen, and the ghosts of 1971 receded once again into the safe distance of the 30-year-old past.
But when you go to vote this Tuesday, remember:
They're watching you.
That is an EXCELLENT read. Thanks for posting it.
BUMP
Great post. God Bless you and I know you are right they are watching and the Lord is also.
Thank you for posting this. As a woman I want to point out that we have the best men, as well as the best women on our side.
Superb post, thank you.
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