Debate Time

My poor mother…I start a lot of conversations that way. Mainly when recounting my teenage years (those of you who knew me back then probably understand this), but I also say this when it comes to politics. Dad and I are at opposite ends of the political spectrum, mom is somewhere in the middle, and I’m honestly not quite sure where my sister lies. I always said K was the smart one.

So, last night, Mom, Dad and I went out to dinner, and, as usual, the conversation turned to the election, and as usual, my mother walked away saying that she will never debate politics again.

OK, so I started it by mentioning that the candidate for the party I support is looking for people to canvas this weekend (no, not mentioning names, but if you really want to know, check out the flair on my Facebook page). My father then started to defend his candidate (after first asking me to clarify who I was talking about – he still holds out hope that I’ll “convert”). Mom dove in defending her beliefs, not backing down – at one point I felt like a spectator, even though she was echoing many of my sentiments.

Deep down, I think all of us realize that we won’t sway the other’s opinion. I know it makes spectators uncomfortable, but I love that we live in a country, hell, that I come from a family, where we can disagree – the left, the right, the center and we can all walk away relatively unscathed.

I’m not going to deny that I’ve learned things by debating my father, and I am not going to deny that there are some things that Dad believes in that really tick me off. But the fact that he holds true to those beliefs is part of what makes him the man who helped raised me: never back down from a fight – never give up. My parents both drilled into me to stand for something – I got my bull headedness from my father, and I like to think I got my strength from my mother. Both have helped me to become the woman that I am.