The Little One

I received a text message today from my young brother who is a senior in high school. He was preparing for a debate in his U.S. Government class tomorrow.

“I told [my teacher] that if I had to be a Republican, I would just mock myself.”

I couldn’t help but laugh because sometimes when I talk to him, I want to apologize to my parents. Not for him, but for me. And I would except for the fact that I’m sure they were as tickled by my opinions as I am in my brother’s.

He went on to describe the entire project. They were supposed to write bills that they would present to Congress. He described his classmates’ bills: vegetarianism for all, handguns for all, and other similar mandates. I had to nod because he is in the same grade as my students, and I’m sure the bills would be similar if I gave the assignment.

My brother?

A tiered tax plan that would, in essence, raise taxes for the richest Americans. He had an added provision that the added tax revenue could not be used for the military. His argument? A historical look at taxes starting with Reagan. In his words: “I’m just going to talk about how Reagan ruined everything.”

It made me think of a conversation we had in the car about a month ago. “Don’t tell, but I think our parents made me a hippie.”

“Umm,” I replied. “I think they know, and I think that’s what they were trying to do.”

“Oh, and I think they were trying to make you a Socialist.”

Joy.

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