Vote

 When I turned eighteen, I did not rush right out and register to vote. That was the summer of 1980, and I had talked myself into a place where my vote wasn't going to matter. My youthful idealism had only lasted as long as what I look back on now as my youth. I had become disillusioned by the seventies and watching a horrible president resign from office only to spend his waning years staring out on the beaches of San Clemente and obfuscating with David Frost. The battle may have been won, but the ascension of Ronald Reagan suggested that the war was far from over. 

I surrendered. 

At least I did when it came to the national scene. Instead, I turned my gaze outward. I joined Amnesty International, mostly because of my own conscience, but Bruce Springsteen's involvement made it much cooler. The eighties were a bit of a blur. College and all the distractions that it held for me kept me from recognizing my adult responsibilities. 

It was 1988 when my conscience came calling in the form of a very good friend who would eventually get her degree in political science. She poked me with a question about political prisoners in other countries, and asked how I could reconcile my involvement on their behalf if I wasn't willing to participate in the very act that so many of those souls in foreign prisons had fought, and in some cases, died for. 

It turned out that the very thing that I thought made me deep was actually making me shallow. My first ballot was cast for Michael Dukakis. If you don't remember him, don't feel bad. Keeping track of the also-rans in politics is a little like tracking the shipments of those T-shirts and hats that they print up in advance for the losing team for the Super Bowl. 

You may have guessed that tasting defeat on my first trip to the ballot box might leave me bitter and resigned. It had the opposite effect. When I finally backed a winner in William Jefferson Clinton, I knew that this would be no walk in the park. Patton Oswalt has said that no matter how great you feel about the person for whom you vote, they will always eventually find a way to disappoint you. 

But that's the game we're all in. Together. 

On this Election Day, celebrate while we still can. Flex that muscle. Be a part of the future.