“The vote is the most powerful instrument ever devised by man for breaking down injustice and destroying the terrible walls which imprison men because they are different from other men.”  Lyndon Johnson 1965

Tuesday, January 12, 1971, was a special day for me.  It was my eighteenth birthday, and I was determined to celebrate my right of passage.  I left school early and headed for the Calhoun County South Carolina Courthouse.  My first stop was the Selective Service office. They shook my hand and gave me a draft card. My next step was the voter registration’s office.  I was a part of the first group of 18-year-olds that could register to vote.  My voter registration card was stamped ‘Federal Elections Only.’  My last stop was to a convenience store to purchase a six-pack of beer.  An eighteen-year-old could legally purchase beer in South Carolina.   I showed the clerk my driver’s license, made my purchase, and headed home.  My plan was to share my accomplishments and a beer with my dad.  He would have to take me seriously now.

I presented my draft card first.  He almost smiled.  He was proud of our family’s patriotism.  My mother’s uncle, Wheeler, was a Spanish American War veteran, and her uncle, George, served in World War I.  My dad served in World War II, and my cousin, Ervin, served in the Korean War.  Several of my friends from high school were serving in Vietnam.  My family believed if duty calls, you must answer.  Next, I presented the voter registration ID.  He shook my hand.  He and my mother voted.  I didn’t know anyone in our family who didn’t.  I remember trying to sit up with them as we all waited on the results the night John F. Kennedy was elected. I remember lively debates with my mother’s aunt who voted for Richard Nixon.  By the way, they were still friends and family the next day after those debates.

My last activity was to open the refrigerator and offer my dad a beer, and of course, to take one for myself.  That didn’t go well.  I didn’t open that beer. Matter of fact, that can may still be on the kitchen table in that house today!  The look that I got was a clear signal that I’d gone too far. 

I’ve voted in every election where I was eligible.  I voted in St. Matthews, SC; Orangeburg, SC; Columbia, SC; Lumberton, NC; Augusta, GA; and in Albany, GA.  I voted everywhere that I lived.  I voted in almost every primary and special election.  Someone paid a price so that every American citizen could vote. We must remember Bunker Hill, Concord, Lexington, Yorktown, Gettysburg, Fort Pillow, Battery Wagner, Wounded Knee, and Selma.   

You travel with history and American greatness when you go to the polls.  Make an informed choice.  Representative John Lewis, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., and thousands of others crossed the Edmond Pettus Bridge and marched down U.S. Highway 80 to Montgomery so that every American Citizen of legal age could vote.  Dr. King said that, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.”  I would like to add, only if you register and vote.