The Significance of the Number "11"

When I was 11, I had to endure one of the strangest years in my life. My parents were separated. I spent 3 months living with my mom and my sister in a hotel in which the room was more like an efficency apartment. My mom could not find a job, and we depended on her brother and what little my father gave to my mom for child support as he didn't tell the truth to the judge about his income. I was asked to give up a spot in my school, my boyfriend (who forgot about me while I was away as I could not call him or write him) and I performed poorly at my new school. Besides performing poorly, the only things I remember about that school was someone taking my pencil and denying it, and learning about leder songs of Schubert. My mother knew how lonely I felt, and she was desperately lonely herself, having no friends for support.

We went back to my father's house since my mother was unable to support us. She became ill of the mind, and later that year after turning 12, two officers came to our house to take my mother to a hospital. She was still in her housecoat, and they allowed her to put on shoes and a coat, but beyond that all of her rights were in the hands of the court. I cannot tell you what it means not to have a mother for periods of time, which continued for the next 25 years. My father owned a business and had no time to be a parent and had little interest in what we did as he was consumed with trying to succeed as a man. I know in my heart he loved us, but he had self-esteem issues of his own, which is why he took them out on my mother, and sometimes us verbally. My mother says the experience probably made me and my brother more determined to succeed. I graduated in November of my senior year of high school, and I went to college in another town the following January. I was bored, but more important, I wanted to get away from the hell of what was happening at home. A year later I came back, and went through college in my hometown. But I worked first, and took some time off from school.

In 1978, the first year I could vote, there were two candidates running for a congressional seat in my district as the congressman, George Mahon, retired. Those candidates were Kent Hance and George W. Bush. Kent Hance was my hometown's favorite son, and George W. Bush lived in Midland. I remember distinctly that I believed at the time as the media portrayed him, and as many of my fellow classmates did, that Mr. Bush was a carpetbagger with a lot of slick oil money from his dad. I cast my first vote for Kent Hance because I knew his work as statesman in Texas and he did good things for Lubbock. I didn't vote against George W. Bush, but I didn't want to vote for him either.

This morning I was watching C-SPAN, and I saw an interview with David Bossidy who just produced a film called "Celsius 41.11". It's a response to Michael Moore's Fahrenheit "9/11", but really more about deconstructing John Kerry. And it dawned on me the importance of the number of "11". It's about this election.

On Thursday night, I felt for the first time that I was really voting for John Kerry and not against George W. Bush. It was the John Kerry that John Edwards has been telling us that he knows. As I posted yesterday, John Kerry reported for duty, and I felt I was part of his troop. Now he has gained my trust.

Normally, I would not write something so personal. But after having a conversation with my best friend (whom I live with) and talking about how many of us who support Kerry and Edwards were taking Bush and his team's policies so personally, I thought and said to him, "My vote is personal."

My vote is very personal. It is most intimate thing I share with the American people. But I do it alone in the booth.