I Learned To Vote By Watching My Dad: A Legacy Of Civic Responsibility

The First Time He Took Me To The Polls

Some of my earliest memories are of standing beside my dad in a voting booth.

I was little — too young to understand the issues or the candidates — but I understood this: showing up mattered. Voting was not optional in our house. It was not something you skipped, because you were busy or tired or inconvenienced. It was something you did, because it was a privilege, because people before us fought for it, and because participating was part of being a responsible human.

My dad did not lecture, he modeled.

When Joaquín was old enough, we started bringing him with us the same way my dad brought me. Standing beside my father as he stood beside, my son felt like watching a quiet handoff — one generation teaching the next without ever needing to say a word.

At the time, I did not know how precious those moments would become.

Voting Is Not Just A Right — It Is A Responsibility

In 2020, during Covid, my dad was 80 years old.

He wore a mask. He waited his turn. He went anyway.

After voting, he posted a photo holding his pen and wrote:

That was him — direct, unapologetic, deeply principled.

It was not about convincing anyone. It was about participation. About responsibility. About showing up even when it was inconvenient, uncomfortable, or scary.

Looking at that photo now, I do not see politics.

I see character. And I was and still am so proud of him!

The Year I Voted Without Him

This year, I voted without my dad for the first time.

I did not realize how hard it would be until I was standing there alone, sticker on my hand, feeling the weight of his absence — and also his presence.

I could hear his voice.

I could feel his pride.

I knew, without question, that he was watching.

I decided to not bring Joaquín with me, because I wanted this experience to myself.

And in that moment, I understood something very clearly: the lesson was never about who to vote for. It was about showing up. It was about caring enough to participate. It was about honoring the people who taught us, and becoming the example for those watching us now.

Voting without my dad was heartbreaking.

Voting because of him was grounding.

Some lessons do not end when the person who taught them is gone.

They live on — quietly, faithfully — every time we choose to show up.

And somewhere between the ballot and the parking lot, I felt him smiling.

The Legacy I Am Passing On To Joaquín

Voting is not about politics in this house. It is about participation. It is about gratitude. It is about remembering that someone before you fought for the right to stand in that booth and be counted.