I took a quick trip on Thursday morning for my weekly visit with my father-in-law.
We usually sit on the porch for a few hours, sip coffee, watch the birds and squirrels and the occasional deer raid the feeders scattered around his property, and talk about life in general.
It’s one of the highlights of my week and the fact that my dad keeps inviting me back means he enjoys the visits as well.
As I pulled into his driveway on Thursday, I saw a sign in his yard showing support for one of the candidates in the upcoming presidential election.
I won’t tell you who Pop supports, and I won’t tell you who I’m going to vote for, but I can tell you this: I will not be voting for Pop’s candidate. That leaves me with only two choices:
I backed my truck out of the driveway, went home, blocked my dad’s number from my phone so I could promise myself I’d never talk to him again.
Or I can just sit on the porch with the person I love for a few hours, drink coffee, watch the animals happily eat the food Pop has prepared for us, and not worry about our differing opinions on politics.
Two hours later, after drinking way too much coffee, bragging about the boy, assuring me that my loving wife was still putting up with me, and basically talking about everything but politics, I said goodbye to Pop and promised to see him in a week if God allowed us to stay together that long.
My dad turned 85 in July. I’ve known him since he married my redheaded mother in 1983. He loved my mother madly until he lost her to cancer in 1998, and he has always treated the five sons he inherited when he married her as if they were his own.
He was the best man at my wedding, he treats my lovely wife like a queen, he expects the same from me, and he spoils his kids as much as any grandfather would.
So, to be honest, I was much more concerned about my dad’s switch to decaf coffee than I was about his political leanings.
I have never thought to question why Pop supports this particular presidential candidate, and I don’t think he cares how I plan to vote in November.
We were too busy discussing whether his beloved Carthage Bulldogs (he graduated from Carthage College in 1957) would be back this week after a rare loss in their last game, and he is happy that I, a sports reporter in East Texas for 39 years, can usually provide him with the scoop on such matters.
He knows my truck is pretty advanced in age (2006 model) and mileage (just over 286,000 miles) and he wanted to make sure I was still doing the regular oil changes and routine maintenance that he told me when I bought my first new truck in 1987.
I told him I wanted at least 300,000 miles on it, so of course I was going to listen to a guy who’d been driving big trucks for over 45 years and 6 million miles.
We talked about the stray cats that would show up at his house, how much he used to hate cats, and how lonely he would be without them now.
He also decided that the people who bought the land next to his secluded five-acre estate were making too much noise early in the morning.
We haven’t had a chance to discuss politics, and probably never will, because we both understand that politics are personal choices that people need to make without worrying about offending anyone or being offended by anyone.
Especially the one you love.
I respect my father so much that I have never let his political leanings get in the way of our weekly visits and 40-year relationship.
But next time I see him, I’ll talk to him about decaf coffee.
Some things are worth fighting for.