On Kid Rock, my kid voting, my kid rocking the vote, and more

Or the only early voting story you need to read this week.

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Two MABA (Make America Burpee Again) updates at the bottom.

On Kid Rock, my kid voting, my kid rocking the vote, and more

I’m in my car driving to pick up my daughter so we can go vote. It’s her first time! I plan to cast my ballot for—HOLY COW IS THAT THE LINE? Goodness gracious there are cars backed up for more than a mile! This is going to take forever!

I grab my daughter from school, and we sketch out a plan to take the back way, park near the election authority and walk. We’re cheating the system (insert election joke here!), and it works great. In just a few minutes, we’re standing in line.

It’s not nearly as bad as those cars backed up all the way to the highway suggested. In just a few days of early voting, tales of how to get there and not spend a million years waiting have proliferated in my friend group, and I feel like we figured out the best way yet.

As we wait, I tell my daughter that I’m planning to vote for—"MAN It’s hot out here,” she says before I can finish. “It’s like 85 at the end of October.”

It’s a big day for her, and she wants to get this right so she actually studied the ballot.

Kids these days!

While this is her first, I’ve voted in so many presidential elections I need to take off both socks to count them. Nobody in line laughs when I say that.

This makes nine times I’ve cast my vote for the leader of the free world.

Presidential elections of my voting lifetime, power rankings:

1.     2000

2.     2008

3.     1992

4.     2004

5. 2012

6. 1996

All the rest are unranked.

I explain to my daughter the different ways to vote. I’ve done paper ballots, hole punch ballots, and touch screen ballots. This time it’s paper ballot, and I plan to proudly darken the box next to the name of—

“JIM!” the one guy I know who works for the election bureau suddenly comes out of the warehouse and into the voting area. “I wondered if I’d see you here.”

I get a peek in the warehouse, and it looks like the last scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. I hope nobody’s face melts on election day.

As we move toward the front of the line, I look around without looking like I’m looking around. My daughter is 217.5 months and the youngest person I see outside of toddlers clinging to their dad’s legs. We are young and old and black and white and wearing shorts and t-shirts and suits. I eavesdrop like crazy and hear not a word about who anybody is going to vote for or which of the 745 amendments they’re going to vote for or against, which strikes me as both weird and completely normal.

We’re so afraid to talk about politics that we won’t even talk about it here! I’ll tell you straight up that I’m going to vote for—wait, you know what this is like? It’s like the Yankees and Red Sox had a convention at the same time and at the same place and nobody even said which team they liked or wore their shirts or hats or mentioned 2003 or 2004 or Bucky Dent.

I feel bad for my daughter that this is the election she gets to vote in first. It’s like if your first car ride was with Thelma and Louise. I want her to fall in love with politics and history and civics and what not, but I feel like that’s wanting to fall in love with being hit with a bag of hammers while being told they are pillows.

I’m half-tempted to launch into a #dadlecture that politics used to be not only edifying but fun to follow, the people running for office used to be admirable even if their policies didn’t align with yours, and you didn’t feel like every election was getting hit with a bag of hammers. Now you don’t just disagree with them you have to hate them not just now but for eternity.

(Counterpoint comes from, of all people, Kid Rock and Eminem who live on different ends of the political spectrum but meet in their friendship, love of Detroit sports teams, etc.)

I don’t bother saying any of that because a) I don’t want to be overheard and 2) somehow my #dadlectures are never popular anyway.

I used to be a full-blown politics junkie. I double-majored in journalism and political science. I loved politics and history and civics and what not. I covered City Council meetings as if people cared about them. I read every book on presidential campaigns I could find. I would go for walks and read them while I was walking. (Yes, I was single, why do you ask?)

I aspired to cover presidential campaigns and the White House and charted my career (or tried to, anyway) to make that a reality.

And then life happened, and now instead of covering political races I cover car races. Instead of filing stories from the White House I’ve filed them from the Big House. And boy am I glad of it. I mean, one is full of super wealthy egomaniacs ferociously committed to one goal and willing to run over anyone in pursuit of it and are lionized by irrational supporters, and the other is … wait, no they both are.

But in sports at least nobody hits you with a bag of hammers, not even Yankees fans.

Anyway, back to early voting. I’m stunned at how fast the line moves. I’ve waited as much as three hours to vote for president and didn’t even like the guy. Today, from arriving at the polling place to handing in my ballot takes only 12 minutes, during which time I voted for—woops, sorry I’m over my word count.

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1.     I’ll have a brand new scoreboard to track this year’s MABA—Make America Burpee Again, the annual January challenge in which participants do 100 burpees a day. I’ll share it as soon as it’s available. I’m really excited. The new system will have everything the old system had, plus a message board and other bells and whistles to take advantage of as our little burpee extravaganza continues to grow.

2.     This is from my friends at “Burpees for Vets,” which is exactly what it sounds like: “Let's do some Burpees For Vets! Apparently we're not the only ones who love burpees... For the last three years people across the country have chosen to honor Veterans Day by doing one burpee for every dollar their friends and family donate to their fundraiser. This campaign has raised over $500,000 for impactful veteran nonprofits, and the initiative is volunteer led so every dollar goes to the cause.
“If you want to participate all you need to do is take 30 seconds to fill out this 3 question form and campaign leadership will give you copy and paste outreach templates, fundraising fliers, pre-made social media posts, and other resources to make it as easy as possible for you to lead a successful fundraiser!”

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