“Past ages crowd on thee, but each one remembers,
And the future is dark, and the present is spread,
Like a pillow of thorns for thy slumberless head.”
― Percy Bysshe Shelley, Prometheus Unbound
“I gave them hope, and so turned away their eyes from death.”
― Aeschylus, Prometheus Bound
Though almost every election is branded “The Most Important Election in History," some elections, indeed, prove to be more enduring than others.
First elections, especially, seem to illuminate voters’ political leanings for a lifetime – so much so that they forever see the political world through that gift of first light.
No one forgets their first, not in politics nor in life’s many other adventures. The first bite of forbidden fruit, the first kiss of stolen fire – something gained always has a cost. Hard-won experience always means innocence lost. We are born to chase life under those tall shadows cast by our firsts too numerous to name. Each generation of Americans tends to find a presidential silhouette to shade their political path forward on first Election Day.
For one generation, it was the election of Donald Trump in 2016. For another, it was the election of Barack Obama in 2008. Others still live by shadows cast from Ronald Reagan’s shining city on a hill, while some still bask in the promise of JFK’s Camelot.
Barack Obama should have been my guiding light, yet even at age 18, “Hope and Change” seemed more like a pillow of thorns gilded with golden fleece than a beacon of fire. My skepticism of Obama’s rising sun must have stung my Granddaddy, Ray.
A life-long Democrat, Granddaddy’s first political light was always and forever FDR, a man whom he and many others of his generation credited with literally bringing light to the South. He never had a chance to actually vote for FDR – he was too young – but he talked as if he did. Granddaddy was born only a month after the enactment of the Rural Electrification Act of 1936. To a young man born into impoverished farm life in rural Covington County, FDR’s colossal profile would forever stick with him.
That I, his grandson, grew up to be more influenced by the likes of Ayn Rand, Ludwig von Mises, Murray Rothbard, and Ron Paul – with a career in that cacophonous echo chamber known as conservative talk radio – must have come as a bit of a shock. However, unlike Granddaddy’s political arguments with my dad, his Reagan-generation son, our conversations around politics always seemed to remain cordial, even loving. I suspect he could tell that I wasn’t one quick to fall in love with any politician.
Yet, as life continued, we didn’t talk as much. There was no falling out, no malice, only a silent distance life’s ho-hum habits can sometimes bring. In a strange way that distance allowed for a gift of remembrance on Election Day in November 2020.
Two minutes before I was supposed to go on-air to host election day coverage on the radio, I felt my phone vibrate. Some gut sense told me not to ignore the call even though showtime was imminent.
As I retrieved my phone and looked down at the screen, I saw it was Granddaddy.
He never calls me, I thought to myself, better answer.
“Hey J-Ray,” he said (our shared middle name, Ray, was inherited from him), “I know you’re about to go on-air, but something happened when I just went to vote that I have to tell you about.”
He explained to me that two young men working the polls noticed he was having trouble walking from his car, so they assisted him with a golf cart ride and a skip of the long line.
At 84 years old, Granddaddy’s health was failing to the point that going to the polls was a pretty intensive labor. Given his health and the ongoing COVID pandemic, he could have easily voted absentee, but he had insisted on going to the polls himself on election day. The fact that those poll workers had helped him fulfill his civic duty had made him so proud, and he wanted to share the feeling with me.
“We live in the greatest country in the world,” he said to me, his voice beaming with wonder and awe over that simple act of kindness, “what an amazing opportunity we have in this country to have a day like this and to have a say.”
Those were the last words Granddaddy ever said to me.
Less than a month later he died on my birthday, Dec. 1, 2020.
Though most remember their first Election Day, I will always remember his last.
That his last vote gave him so much hope in a present rent with thorns – and that he shared that gift with me freely – continues to stick with me, turning my eyes away from his death and towards a shared fire all generations should hope to keep aflame.
Joey Clark is a native Alabamian and is currently the host of the radio program News and Views on News Talk 93.1 FM WACV out of Montgomery, AL M-F 12 p.m. - 3 p.m. His column appears every Tuesday in 1819 News. To contact Joey for media or speaking appearances as well as any feedback, please email joeyclarklive@gmail.com. Follow him on X @TheJoeyClark or watch the radio show livestream.
The views and opinions expressed here are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the policy or position of 1819 News. To comment, please send an email with your name and contact information to Commentary@1819news.com.
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