The Highlander (Or, How I Spent Saturday Evening)

You know, I've always thought of my self as a good driver. I am currently questioning that assessment, and maybe you will too after you read this post (or maybe the picture is enough and you've already made up your mind). I was in a wreck yesterday, or, maybe more precisely, I wrecked my car yesterday.

I was driving in Springfield, Missouri, on my way to visit a friend. I didn't have the radio on, I wasn't talking on the phone, and I wasn't doing anything else that should have distracted me this much from the road. For whatever reason, I was too far over to the right side of the road, and was surprised by a road sign that seemed to be very close to the edge of the street, and so I jerked the wheel to the left (a.k.a., mistake number 1).

I was cresting a hill, and thought to myself, this is dangerous, I shouldn't be over on this side, so I jerked the wheel back to the right (a.k.a., mistake number 2). At that point, the car started wobbling, and I lost all of my good sense about driving (because really, my dad taught me how to drive quite well, almost 16 years ago). At that point, I hit the right edge of the road and next thing I knew, my car was resting on the passenger side and I wasn't sure which way was up.

There were some good samaritans along the road that helped me climb out of the driver's side door, and I stood there for a while waving at passing motorists who all had looks of horror on their faces, assuring them I was all right.

The police officer who came to the scene questioned me for a while about what happened, and I still am not really able to tell you what made me swerve all over the road. I was definitely distracted, and not thinking about driving in the slightest, but not by something in the car--just the things going on in my head.

The car was towed, and my dad drove me to Clinton, where we met Aaron, who drove me back to KC. I'm not sure if it's totaled yet, but the officer, the tow truck driver, and my insurance agent are all fairly sure that it will be. I guess I'll hear from the State Farm claims team on Monday about what to do next.

It was a surreal experience--I am mostly unharmed (there are bruises on the tops of my knees, a bump on the left side of my head, my right shoulder is a little bruised, and my neck is pretty stiff today). Thankfully, I was wearing my seatbelt, which is surely what saved my life--if I hadn't had my seatbelt on, I would have been thrown all over the vehicle, but as it was, I felt like I was riding on a roller coaster. I wasn't really afraid that I would be hurt as I was toppling over in the car, but I knew this couldn't be good. I think the pictures are pretty darn scary, and it's very strange to think that I was in the vehicle when it got thrown into this position.

Thanks for all the well-wishes, everyone, and please be careful. Wear your seatbelts, and make sure your loved ones do, too. It doesn't take much at all to send your car into such a dangerous tumble, so if I can at least tell you what I learned, it's not to get complacent about driving these giant scary machines we call our cars.

What I've Learned This Year: 2008

On the eve of the new year, which looks to be shaping up to be one of the greatest years of my life thus far, I’ve been reflecting on what I’ve learned. This year has taught me to look deeper into myself, and to use what I’m learning to improve myself

Probably the most important thing I’ve learned this year is about my friendships. I’ve always had great friends. I love to meet people, and I’ve never felt like I was without friends. Obviously relationships wax and wane, and grow and change and morph into other things, but I think each of the friendships I’ve had along the way has been of vital importance to my development of self. I used to think that friends were an external force in the directions my life has taken—an auxiliary piece of the puzzle, or something that happens as a result of choices and experiences I’m having on my own.

This year, though, I have come to realize that my friendships are inseparably entwined into my life—a part of my being that I can’t pull out and treat as a side item. I wouldn’t be who I am, or maybe even anyone at all, without my friends. And anyway, I wouldn’t want to be anyone without my friends—they make life interesting, and challenging, and more rich and broader and deeper.

I could go on for pages and pages about this subject, but in the interest of your sanity, internet, I’ve pared it down a bit to some of the things I think are most important about my friendships.

1. Part of the reason we like our friends is that we’re attracted to them. Sometimes it’s physical beauty—I have some friendships that started that way. I always wanted to be one of the “hot girls,” but since I usually end up as “the cute one that the boys talk to ABOUT the hot girls,” I’ll settle for being friends with said hot girls. It just so happens that the “hot girls” I know are also kind, generous, warm, adventuresome, carefree, and beyond compassionate for the people they hold dear. True beauties—inside and out.

The attraction to a friend can come from lots of places—intelligence, humor, skills (nun-chuck or otherwise), wit, or even sheer passion for life. We seek out in our true friends the things we feel we are lacking in ourselves, and that’s when we click—for lack of a less cheesy way to say it, we complete each other. I’m thankful for the ways my friends add to my life and my being, and I hope I do that for them.

2. True compatriots share in your experiences. Whether that means an activity you like to do together, or a common interest in something (from anime to new age spirituality to yoga to dogs to pop culture to knitting to drinking and laughing to contests that involve kicking one’s shoes as far as one can), or a moment you had together that binds you for life—not only shared experiences but shared desires. One of my dear friends admitted, a little bashfully, that she becomes a stalker when she meets new friends—tries to insert herself into their lives, because she can’t wait to become closer companions. I was able to tell her, after she related that story, that I stalked HER to become her friend—I wanted so badly to be able to call her a friend that I went to her desk at work every day under the guise of team-building, to endear myself to her. And it worked!

3. Having friends with different types and levels of experiences and lifestyles and attitudes and outlooks on life is vital to your survival. I am awed at how my friends have given me such perspective on my life—somehow I have managed to surround myself with people who not only can think through complicated topics, but can also put those thoughts into beautiful and meaningful words that speak to my soul. Whether it has been at a bar having beers, or at a cafeteria table at work, or in a pan-Asian restaurant drinking tea and eating tofu, or in a dive café after yoga class, or in a knitting circle, or in countless loving emails or notes, my friends have helped me to look at my life from a new vantage point. I am amazed at their collective ability for introspection and for pushing the edges of understanding to help me learn and come to terms with problems I face.

4. A friend really does love you, NO MATTER WHAT. As humans we define limits—for our own abilities and possibilities, for rational and technical and emotional and fantastical subjects, and for the amount of love we believe someone else can give us. I’ve learned this year that those people I love unconditionally and support without wavering during any situation actually feel the same way about me. A silly thing to suppose WASN’T true, but all the same…what an amazing feeling to be supported so selflessly by people I love and trust and admire. Thanks to ALL of you for proving to me what friendship really means.

So to all my friends—thanks for everything you’ve done this year: for me, with me, about me, and maybe even that helped me, even if you didn’t know you were doing it. I couldn’t have made it to the end of 2008 without all of you, and I hope you know it. You’re more important to me than these meager words can express, and I hope I can be for you one 100th of what you’ve meant to me this year. Best wishes for 2009 to each and every one of you.

The Giving of Gifts

Last weekend, I went Christmas shopping. I was searching for a few specific things for my family members, keeping Christmas modest and light this year, in view of the economy and other factors that have made this year a little challenging for all of us. I had a list, and (since I love lists and the feeling of checking things OFF my lists), I was sticking to that list like a soldier in battle—trying to get in and out of stores quickly and painlessly, finding what I needed and then planning a quick exit strategy. My plan was to buy what I needed, speed home, get things wrapped, and be done with it.

Sound like a beautiful and meaningful holiday season to you?

My plans were derailed by the fact that I went shopping with my friend Aaron. Aaron is NOT a list-maker, and, even though he made a list in an attempt to make me feel better about the afternoon, he didn’t really follow it. We went from store to store as his excitement for the season and for the gifts he was buying for his loved ones grew. He got more and more ecstatic about his goods with each purchase. You could see him imagining his loved ones opening presents in total surprise as he placed items in his cart.

I think I need to rethink the giving of gifts this season.

Sometimes I can be a bit of a humbug about Christmas—I am not one to keep much “stuff” around, and the things that I need or want I tend to just go out and get myself, so when it comes to Christmas, and someone asks what I would like, I can’t come up with anything. I don’t think that’s necessarily bad—I love holidays for the time spent with family and friends, relaxing, laughing, playing, and eating good food. THAT is as much of a present as anything I could think to ask for, so again, it’s hard to make a wish list.

On the other hand, I do like giving presents. I am hard on myself sometimes about finding the PERFECT present—that one thing that will make my sister giggle, or my brother-in-law’s eyes light up, or my mother to gasp “how did you know!” It gets MUCH harder to do this as people get older and more established in their lives, and really requires a lot of planning (not something I give myself much time to do). And it has come to my attention that other people love to give gifts, too.

Duh, Kate, you might be thinking to yourself. You’re not the only one who enjoys giving more than receiving. In fact I would venture to say that MOST people I know would much rather watch others open the gifts they give than open something themselves. But that means that we, as givers, also have to be responsible receivers, and learn how to take something with gratitude and humbleness, whether it is a compliment or a Christmas sweater.

Gretchen from The Happiness Project posted a link today to an article from The New York Times about the potlatch—a ceremonial tradition of giving to excess in some native American tribes. The article talks about what we can learn in today’s economy from giving, rather than cutting back, and what it means to be a giver, rather than focusing on receiving.

I hope to practice gift-giving with some measure of abandon this season—even if my gifts aren’t wrapped, but rather spoken, or sung, or practiced. Enjoy the potlatch!

Musings on a Teacher and Friend

In an earlier post, I mentioned my photography class at William Jewell College. My teacher was this amazing woman, and one of the reasons I loved the class and took a second semester of photography was that she taught me so much—not only about photography, but about life in general.

We had a lot in common—we were both from conservative Midwestern households, where our parents had been married for years and years, and we were raised in the church (both of us Methodist, I do believe). Both of us had gotten a little wild in college, and one of the first things I shared with the class was my tattoo—I did a self-portrait of my back, focusing mostly on the tattoo, because it had become something that defined me in multiple ways. My mother HATED that tattoo (and probably still does), and we had a bit of a falling out over it as I entered my second year of college.

My photography teacher assigned us a project over Thanksgiving break that fall—kind of a documentary-style photo essay, and I was having a hard time coming up with a subject. My teacher sat down with me and said, “What about doing your essay on your mom?” She said she understood the dynamic we had at the time, and thought it would make for an interesting story—and she was right. Those photos were fascinating to take—I followed my mom to work, to family gatherings, and around the house, and it gave me an interesting perspective on her, even though we were sometimes at odds. It allowed me to see her from a less emotional angle, and to consider her point of view a little more—my teacher’s suggestion was an excellent idea.

Later on that year, as I tried to decide whether travelling overseas for school was something I wanted to do, and where I should go, and what I should study, I talked to my photography teacher about her experience studying overseas, and I decided to go where she went—to Oxford, England—and it was one of the best decisions I have ever made.

I babysat for my teacher’s kids—two gorgeous girls that were anything but a job! The girls loved to play games they made up, and we would spend hours running around the house playing variations of tag—some blindfolded, some with hilarious rules. We watched the Disney channel, made cookies, and had to shut up the chickens in the chicken coop in the evening—something I had NEVER done before I met them. They would remind me when it was getting close to bed time, and they would run upstairs and change into pajamas and brush their teeth and ask me to tell them stories about myself as a kid before they went to sleep. It was the most fun babysitting job I’ve ever had.

My photography teacher eventually quit teaching at William Jewell, and got THE BEST JOB EVER—restaurant critic for the Kansas City Star. When I would come over to babysit (at this point, as a young adult with a regular job), she would insist on paying me, and when I said no to money, she would pay me in cookbooks, or bottles of wine, or fabulous desserts from the restaurants she reviewed. She took me to my very first meal of sushi, and ordered one of everything on the menu at Kona Grill. She took me to other restaurants, and asked my opinion of the meals, and insisted that everyone order something different so we could taste each other’s dishes. Once I saw her out to eat at a fancy restaurant, and she sent over appetizers and drinks to our whole table.

It has been awhile since I spoke to my teacher, turned friend and inspiration. Lauren Chapin passed away this week, and I’m sorry that I hadn’t seen her or spoken to her in so long. I’m devastated for her beautiful girls, now 16 and 14, and for her husband, who is as passionate about music as Lauren was about food. I envied their family—their freedom to learn and to love and to try things that other people might find strange (do you know very many elementary school children who like Indian food and tzatziki?). I wanted to BE part of their family, and spending Friday and Saturday evenings at their house was like a vacation to an imaginary, fabulous life. One of the best parts was waiting for Lauren to get home after her dinner, so that I could hear about the food, and the people, and tell her things I talked to her girls about while she was out to eat.

Lauren was joyous, and an amazing listener, and a great friend. She helped me to learn who I was, and I still draw inspiration from the way she lived her life. I owe her a thanks that I probably never shared—I hope she knew how much she meant to me. Rest in peace, Lauren.

Yes, I love technology...

I’m not an incredibly technical person, or at least until recently I have never thought of myself as such. I work at a software company, and over the course of my six years there, I have definitely learned a lot about computers—by trial and error, by reading help files and other user documentation, and by asking questions that may or may not make me look stupid to the people who know the answers.

I LOVE technology. I love my cell phone, and can’t live without it. If I leave it at home on a run to the grocery store, I feel like I have to go home and get it. I love my computer, and even though I work on it all day, I go home and turn it on again, so I can surf the web or watch t.v. online. I love writing a blog, and reading the blogs of friends and strangers. I would feel lost without the ability to search for something at the drop of a hat. I even love the fact that “Google” has become a commonly used verb in our vernacular (even though usually I am a stickler for correct grammar).

Since I joined Facebook, I’ve seen a change in my relationships with both people I haven’t spoken to in years, and people I see every day. People I’ve met once or twice are more quickly engrained into my social circle, and people I haven’t thought about for years have become good friends again. Even the relationships with people I see or talk to every day have an added dynamic—reading people’s status updates, and seeing the comments and messages other people leave for them opens a window into someone’s life that you would most likely never experience—all with the dialog on the wide, wide, world of web.

At work, I learn something new every day about the capabilities of the personal computer, or some new way to technologically organize your life (check out Life Hacker for ways you never imagined using technology to simplify your existence). I’ve learned things about programming languages, and databases, and increasing usability in interface design. Do I sound like a nerd? I prefer email over letters or cards, text messages over phone calls, instant messaging over getting up and walking down the hall to talk to someone.

Being a nerd used to be a bad thing (remember all those teen movies where the nerd is transformed into a cool kid?) but these days, nerds are in high demand. Having the best and most up-to-date gadgets makes you more desirable, not less. Knowing how to fix a boot loop in your home PC, or how to write in HTML makes you marketable (both in the working world AND in your personal life).

I watched these videos the other day at the request of a friend, and I wasn’t sorry. The first is a short video about what Web 2.0 is, and the second (and much longer) is a presentation by a professor from K-State, who is studying the anthropology of this brave new world being created by Web 2.0. It’s a new term to me. It means that the internet is no longer just a viewer for information someone else has placed online—it’s a community, a culture, an interactive, necessary experience.

• Web 2.0: The Machine is Us/ing Us
• An anthropological introduction to YouTube

I want everyone I know to be my friend on Facebook. Sure it’s no substitute for actual human interaction, but I wouldn’t say it is LESS important…adding that dynamic of virtual interaction has made my relationships more interesting. I’m working on getting my parents to join up…we’ll see if they do.

So I’m not as technologically savvy as most of the people I know here at work, and I don’t claim to know much of anything about all this new stuff, but it excites and intrigues me, so I want you to feel that way, too. Let me know what you think about the videos.

Memories

I've been going through boxes of my "memories." My mom kept a big steamer trunk that she put my things in--photos, programs from plays I was in, books I wrote, diaries from 3rd grade on, and cards I made (mostly for mom). It's a big trunk, and heavy. I thought it was a lot of stuff.

As I looked through it, and those artifacts jogged my memories, I started realizing how many moments of my life AREN'T documented. I also realized how much I need things, or pictures, to help me remember the things I've done, the places I've been, and the people I know. My recall isn't very good--friends are always reminding me of things we've done together, and as they talk the memories start to come back, but before those conversations, I can't remember a thing.

One of my favorite radio shows, Radio Lab from WNYC (a public radio station in New York), did an episode about memory. One of the things they talked about in this episode was how memory works. As you pull back a memory from the database in your head, you apply the rest of your life experiences to the situation, and add details, and fill in blanks, without really realizing that you're doing it. You change the memory and remember it slightly differently than it actually happened. The truest memory is the one that stays locked in your brain forever, that you don't ever access...but then it's worthless, right?

I can remember tiny snitches of things that I don't have pictures of--standing at the top of the stairs that went down to the basement in my grandparent's house in Springfield, making my sister laugh uncontrollably in the backyard as I chased her on the swing, riding my bike so fast my hair streamed out behind me down the streets in Monett, MO. They're more like pictures than concrete memories, and I remember more feelings than conversations or events.

Now we have digital cameras and cell phones that can capture every moment. We can blog our thoughts and keep records of every daily event, not just like a diary, but in a computer database, with search capabilities. We can post videos online and track who watches them.

Part of my problem with keeping the things that jog my memory is that I hate clutter. I want to get rid of things, to purge my life of everything I don't need at the moment. I'm usually sorry about it later.

So, I know it isn't time for New Year's resolutions just yet...but I think that's going to be mine for 2009--to document my life more completely. Since I can do it digitally, I hope to be able to avoid my fear of the clutter taking over my life. Maybe I can also work on my recall...memory game suggestions, anyone?

Election Day 2008

It has been a whole week since our country elected a new president.

I’ve been rolling this blog post around in my brain for a week, trying to capture what I have been feeling and thinking about this subject, in addition to sharing a little of my experiences over the past weeks and months during this presidential campaign. I’m glad I didn’t post right away on Tuesday or Wednesday, or even later in the week, because a lot has happened since then, both in the national and local media and in my social circles.

Many of you know I have never been very interested in politics. As many people have said lately, talking about religion or politics can be a sticky subject. I usually reserve those conversations for people whom I know agree with me, or with whom I know I can have a safe discussion, where no tempers flare and no feelings are hurt. I don’t like angry arguments about religion OR politics, because I don’t think a shouting match ever changed someone’s mind about how he feels about anything, much less either of these controversial topics.

As I have mentioned before, I remember getting annoyed with my roommates as we watched the results for the 2000 election in our living room on Morse street in Liberty. It was two against one in favor of the republican side in our house (with me abstaining from caring at all). There were lots of shouting matches, and hurt feelings galore. I tended to leave the house when the news was on, and the night of the election I stayed far away. I don’t even think I voted in that election. I just didn’t care.

I voted in 2004, but again, I didn’t have a whole lot of passion for the election. I voted because I felt it was my civic duty, and because I didn’t really agree with the turns the war in Iraq had taken, but it was a very passive interest, and after the election was over I didn’t feel much besides relief that political ads wouldn’t be interrupting my favorite t.v. shows, and that we’d have a lot less junk mail to recycle.

So why was this election different for me? I’m older, obviously, than I was four or eight years ago, and with age comes a tiny smattering of wisdom, or at least exposure to things like taxes and social issues and healthcare and the like. The longer I’m on the planet, the more I’m exposed to the things I vaguely remember my parents having serious conversations about when I was a child, and I have become the person responsible for dealing with those issues.

In addition to my becoming a little bit more of a grown-up, there were so many issues at stake during this election that I and most people I know couldn’t help sitting up a little bit straighter and paying attention. The war, the economy, healthcare, the environment, and our relationship as a country with the rest of the world. No matter what side of the political line you fall on, these things affect you, and you probably have opinions about what should be done about them. The whole country is struggling with debt and housing prices and job availability. The whole country is worried about our troops overseas and this war that is different from any other confrontation we’ve been involved with. The whole country is paying higher premiums for health insurance, and most people I know are having to work a little harder to make ends meet. The whole country is affected by the state of our environment, whether by gas prices or leaving the country a passable place for our children to live in.

Through the course of this election season, I became a political news junkie. I started reading blogs and watching web sites for political updates. I started watching television shows that I never thought I’d be interested in. I can name political correspondents and pundits, on the left and the right. I started having political discussions at work and at play, with people whom I knew disagreed with me, and with people about whose political affiliations I wasn’t quite sure.

I was pleased to learn that many people I talked to, while we may have been on different sides of the fence, wanted to have an energetic but friendly conversation about politics. I’m glad that I have friends that lean towards both ends of the spectrum, and that I know so many people who can speak intelligently about their beliefs. I’m proud of the fact that I could participate a little, and sometimes even sounded like I knew what I was talking about.

I got so involved in this election that I put up a campaign sign at my house, and I put a bumper sticker on my car. I wore a pin to show support for the candidate I believed in. Sometimes I would look in the mirror and wonder where this enthusiasm came from—when did I become someone who cares about politics? It seems to have snuck up on me.

The day of the election, I took off work, and went to the Obama campaign office in downtown Kansas City to see what I could do to help. Me, Ms. Apathetic, Ms. Avoider-of-Confrontation. I signed up to knock on people’s doors for the candidate I supported. Two friends and I ended up in Lee’s Summit, working to get out the vote for Obama-Biden. I don’t think we changed anyone’s minds, but I felt empowered and energized—the weather was great that day, and the people we talked to were friendly and excited about having their vote counted that day.

I think this is the first time on my blog that I’ve mentioned who I voted for this year. Towards the end of the election, I posted a few notes on my Facebook page about it. I watched all the debates, read both candidate’s web sites, and followed all the news stories about the campaign. I felt informed. Probably for the first time in my political life.

On Tuesday night after the election, I went to a watch party at Flying Saucer in Kansas City’s new Power & Light district. It was an unofficial Obama volunteers party, and I don’t know how the word even got out, but the place was as packed as I’ve ever seen it, filled with supporters of the Obama campaign. Everyone was excited. We watched the results come in. Some people booed when a state would post a majority for McCain, but for the most part the energy was positive.

When the west coast polls were getting ready to close, the whole place counted down the seconds like it was New Year’s eve, and when CNN declared Obama the winner, the room exploded. People were jumping on furniture, cheering and clapping, gasping, and even crying. Complete strangers hugged each other, and high-fived, and everyone was smiling ear-to-ear. The joy was infectious, and everyone was in awe.

The rest of the evening, through McCain’s speech and then Obama’s, there wasn’t a boo or a sneer or a smug statement to be heard in the place. Everyone listened with rapt attention as both candidates spoke, and there was a sense of wonder over the whole crowd. While Obama spoke, I had the opportunity to stand behind two well-dressed young African American men, who kept looking at each other and around the room with a glint in their eyes, and you could tell that they thought that anything was possible at that moment, as did everyone else in the room. I left that evening with a glowing heart.

The rest of the week brought a flurry of mixed emotions. Some were not so great. It’s hard to tell what I would have felt like if my candidate didn’t win—one can never know what happens on the road not taken. I read and heard things from friends, acquaintances, and co-workers that were negative, and in some cases almost hateful, from one person at the office. Because politics affects people at their core, and the decision for whom to vote was so much mixed with people’s sense of self and deeply held values, I understand where it came from. Like I said, if the results had gone the other direction, I may have felt the same way.

One thing I think Barack Obama did well in this election was appeal to people’s sense of the greater good. He spoke a lot about unity, and about coming together across the divide in our country, which in some places is very wide and very deep. John McCain spoke about it, too, and as my dad said to me the other day, both men have the best interests of our country at heart, and truly want to make the United States a better place for the whole of the nation. My dad and I agreed that there wasn’t one thing that either candidate did or said that made us feel this way—more of an intangible feeling we both got about these two men, who are great leaders and great Americans. While they may have gone about changing our country in different ways, I believe they both wanted sincerely to change it for the better.

After I expressed my dismay about some of the things I heard to my friend Red, she sent me a link to a clip from The View. Normally, I hate this show. Hearing those women talking over each other in progressively louder and more obnoxious tones grates on my nerves—or maybe it reminds me too much of myself and my friends, trying to talk over each other to get our own stories heard, rather than really actively listening to each other. Anyway, this clip was great, and encompassed just what I had been feeling. Elisabeth Hasslebeck, who went out on the campaign trail with the McCain-Palin camp, and who is obviously a republican, phrased well what I hope for our country: that we can come together in the midst of all these troubles we are trying to work through, and work on it together. That we can stop the bickering and divisiveness and work to make our country a better place. Yes, this nation of ours has its flaws, but really, aren’t we living in a place of great opportunity? Sherri Shepherd touched on this as she talked about watching the election results with her young son. She had been undecided up until the last, and even declined to mention who she finally voted for, but I liked what she said about the momentous feeling of the occasion.

I know this has turned into a long blog post…I have had lots of thoughts in my head in the past week. What I hope for our country is that we can work together. I think it is amazing that we live in a place where our votes can be counted, each and every one. That we can support who we want, and that we can speak out for and against both candidates and issues. We are so lucky to live in a place where dissention is not only allowed, but encouraged. Where political and religious freedom are rights that all Americans hold, and that we can all express our beliefs freely. I don’t hold any false ideas that all people are treated equally in this country…there are still places where race is an issue, or religious beliefs are sneered at, or people’s rights are being infringed upon because of their sexual orientation. There are still deep chasms that need to be mended before we’ll all truly be equal.

I’m proud of all of my friends and family who made sure they voted, whomever they supported, whatever issues they voted yes or no to on their ballots, because it is a privilege to live in a place where we can do such a thing. If we can come together, if we can treat each other as we want to be treated, we’ll really be getting somewhere. I heard a great story on NPR—young people, most who weren’t even old enough to vote yet, talking about the future of our country and their hands in making it great. I’ll leave you with that. Thanks for reading the longest post ever!

A President Kids Can Look Up To