I was proud of myself that day. But after years of listening to Gene, my teacher and friend, go on and on about the importance of participating in the political process, I knew he'd want me to call him as soon as I'd left the building. So I did. And he was so excited. He was in his 60s at the time, so he was no stranger to the polls, but I knew he was living vicariously through me as he relished in the excitement of a first time voter. He was so excited and very proud that over the years we'd spent together he'd instilled in me a true passion for being involved in my community and being a part of the process of working to make a difference in the world around me. Of course, it helped very much that I voted for Bill Clinton that year (which I'd do every single year if the laws allowed), as Gene was a lifelong and staunch democrat.
As the years passed, and I moved away from California, we still remained close and often discussed political and social issues. He was always proud of me and loved me and never afraid to tell me. Of course, I think he understood just how mutual the feeling was. Especially that day in 2004 when I called him to tell him I was having a baby and that no matter what it was (boy or girl) I was naming it after him. But, that's another story entirely....
This week's writing prompt:
Describe a time when someone was proud of you