Hobbiests

I know I have pointed this out on numerous occasions, but one of the great joys of seeing our guys grow up is watching them develop their own interests, personalities, and passions. This was brought home to me tonight as the three boys pursued three very different activities in various places in the house.

 

Almost 9-year-old Cooper, our little jock, had a rare night off from baseball, and was using it to lay flat on the couch watching ... wait for it ... baseball! The Cubs v. the Cardinals to be specific. While baseball is his passion, Cooper will frankly watch any old competitive thing you care to show on TV - major or minor sports, boys, girls, men or women (or horses or dogs, frankly). He would probably watch a coin flip channel if there was such a thing.

 

His almost 9-year old twin Hayden, our little performer, had Amazon Prime music cranked up on the TV in the next room, where he was loudly doing karaoke to Train, Fun and Meghan Trainor songs. This involved holding his fist like a microphone and lots of "rock" moves, including warnings to me that he was going to try to do the splits. Yikes! He and a friend are gearing up for auditioning an amusing duet at the school talent show at tryouts this Wednesday.

 

12-year old Owen, meanwhile, is now months into the odd hobby of modifying store-bought Nerf guns. This involves the purchase of specialized batteries and motors on the internet, soldering, electrical work, sculpting of plastics, and lots of painting using spray paints purchased from the constant trips he request I do with him to AutoZone. At the end of the process, once bright orange or yellow Nerf guns are deconstructed, and reconfigured to shoot faster, further and stronger, and are painted with auto paints to look much "cooler" than the original orange and yellow they typically come in. He first learned to do modifications by watching countless YouTube videos, and has now started developing his own variations. Most recently, he has put some of his modified guns on eBay. While we assumed this would be futile, he confidently assured us it would not be. No one was more surprised than Deanna and I when he received a $50 offer on one of them and then proceeded to reject the offer in a strongly worded email that emphasized the fact that he was looking to make a profit on the gun and that $50 would not do the trick. Tonight, he was busily negotiating with someone different who was offering $80 plus shipping. Taking that deal.  The fact that anyone is willing to pay that much money for something one of my kids created is, quite honestly, stunning to me. Crazy times we live it. Crazy times indeed.

Owencyclopedia

RedPlanet in the house! Today, loyal reader, finds me fast approaching my 49th consecutive ride on this roller coaster around the Sun. This, as I see it, will move me at last out of my "middle 40's" and solidly into my "late middle 40's."

 

I've realized a lot of things in recent years, as the sands of life continue to shift beneath my feet. One thing I have learned for sure is that I actually know very little. Sure, I continue to learn things here and there, but my accumulated knowledge amounts to pretty much nil in the grand scheme of things.

 

Thankfully, though, there is no deficit of knowledge here on CloudEight, thanks to having our own living, breathing Owencyclopedia, or "Owen," as we call it for short. We've had it for 12 years now, but only recently learned that it knows everything. Maybe it always knew everything, although I appear to recall that it asked a lot of questions of me in the past, an apparent acknowledgment that it still had things to learn. This is clearly no longer the case, as I am reminded on a daily basis, as it now makes loud and assertive declarations of "fact" about almost any subject at the drop of a hat.  A sampling of the knowledge we are regularly blessed with:

• Every product made by Apple is incredibly awesome, and every electronic product made by anyone else is terrible by comparison;
• Plays are boring;
• The movie, regardless of which movie it is, is never as good as the book [this may be actual fact!];
• Our other two kids are stupid and annoying;
• Math will rarely, if ever, be needed in real life;
• AT&T is horrible, worst DSL provider eeeeeevvvvvver;
• The reason the internet is slow at our house is because I, Owencyclopedia, have never heard of the brand of router you bought;
• That song sucks and should be turned off. Now;
• The Owencyclopedia did not lose [insert almost any noun]; somebody must have taken it;
• That car is awesome, while that other one is decidedly not;
• The Owencyclopedia is not tired.

The Owencyclopedia provides succinct and frank movie reviews, and only needs to see a trailer to tell you if it has any merit, rates how funny various insurance commercials are, and has identified Jay Cutler as the source of the Bears suckiness. The Owencyclopedia can even predict the future, as it seems 100% sure the Cubs will still suck this year (although some would argue that is a pretty safe bet in any year!).

 

We are indeed truly blessed to have such an easily accessed resource right here in the house. Gone are my days of cumbersome Google searches, internet research, or old-fashioned manual reading of books. The Owencyclopedia is voice-activated, and often even provides facts that aren't even solicited by us! I strongly suggest you get one of your own. I could loan you ours, but sadly, I wouldn't be able to get the computer or wireless network to work without it....

Anyone Home?

Howdy there Cloud Eight fans! Happy 4th; be careful with those fireworks! What? Oh, missed the 4th of July apparently.

Well, a shout out to our fighting men and women then!! Thanks for keeping us safe! Huh? Oh, shoot. Wait, wait, just kidding - don't shoot me fighting men and women! I meant like, shoot, I missed Veteran's Day.

Well, I am at least thankful not to have missed Thanksgiving and a chance to thank you, my loyal readers, for sticking with me despite my increasingly infrequent posts these past couple of years. You guys are the best! Eh? Thanksgiving was 7 weeks ago?

And what's that? You haven't stuck with me? What do you mean blogs are passe? What is everyone doing then? Twitter? Snapchat? What the heck are those? Is anyone actually there? Hellllllloooooooo?!?!?!

Huh.

Well.

No one around. And who can blame them, I haven't been here myself. Heck, my profile doesn't even have the kids current ages!

 

So, it is just us, my last remaining reader. That is, assuming you are not simply here because you Googled naked Scarlett Johansson and I just wrote that - psyche!. I will assume instead that you are someone who enjoys the occasional blog entry capturing this or that about parenting. Or you are my Mom (Hi Mom!).

 

And if you do enjoy the occasional blog entry capturing this or that about parenting, I am glad you are here, as opposed to somewhere more "now" you could be. Way to be old school. I may be throwing in the odd fondue recipe or 80's music reference in your honor!

 

At any rate, dear reader, we are going to have some fun here at Cloud Eight this year. I plan to hang around more than usual. It is, quite frankly, nice to be back. We will laugh (hopefully), and we may cry (but only about bad things that happen to our sports teams); there will be kid cuteness (less and less frequent unfortunately, now that Owen is 11 and the twins are 8), and there will definitely be sports, bodily function humor and over use of the phrase "at any rate" to transition to the end of an entry.

 

At any rate (see what I mean!), thanks for visiting today. Think about subscribing, so that you don't miss a single 2015 post, at the low, low rate of free - see the subscription options to the right. While I will be around more, I can almost guarantee that the volume of posts emanating from CloudEight will not be crashing your server. And if you don't subscribe, peek back around now and again to see what is up here, say hi, or simply be disappointed again that there are no naked pictures of Scarlett Johansson. See you soon!    

Cooper is a Fetching Name, Don't You Think?

So the name Cooper for boy babies seems to peaked in popularity for boys names several years ago at #75, and is now starting a slow descent. That is fine with us here at RedPlanet where we named Owen when that name was at about the same rank, only to see it skyrocket in popularity, to the point where you can't spit in a crowded schoolyard these days without hitting half a dozen little Owens.

Interestingly though, Cooper always has been, and remains, a top 10 dog name. And, much to our amusement, that fact could not be more fitting, as our very own 8 1/2 year old human boy Cooper has a personality that closely resembles that of a Labrador Retriever. And I'm not just talking predictable stuff like being sweet and smart and loyal, which he is all of in spades. In addition, to those things he really does seem to be part dog. He likes to hang his head out the window when we drive, letting his hair blow in the wind. He has been fascinated by balls since he was a puppy, er, I mean baby, and when he can't get someone to throw one to him, throws them to himself endlessly, before school, after school, in the yard, in the house. He has been very tactile since he was a baby, and loves nothing more than to have his back rubbed. And, he doesn't actually ask to have his back rubbed, but instead just sort of thrusts it at us - presenting it for rubbing. You know .... like a dog. He needs to be run outside every day. When he is not moving, he is draped in a chair or on a couch, in a state of boneless relaxation. Unlike the other two boys, when he is tired, he doesn't fight to stay up, but simply goes to sleep - it doesn't matter where - at a party, on a couch, floor, chair or bed; Hell, he even fell asleep at Blue Man Group! 

I guess my dog comparison is really a way of saying that Cooper is uncomplicated. People will often tell us, when they hear we have three boys, how lucky we are that we don't have girls; that boys are so easy. I've heard this enough to have internalized an image of the parents of girls sitting in front of a giant mixing board, tweaking this switch or another, as they try to manage the delicate and complicated and unpredictable psyches of their daughters. The parents of boys, on the other hand, I picture holding the type of control that comes with a basic remote control car from Radio Shack: up, down, left or right. Thankfully, that has been our experience to date. The other two boys are somewhat more nuanced perhaps, although, through happy accident, and not stellar parenting to be sure, they seem fairly well adjusted. Cooper is not nuanced, and in fact may just have up and down controls. He admitted last night that he didn't want to continue with TaeKwonDo lessons on Monday nights because it interfered with his watching Monday Night Football. When he pulled the turkey wishbone with Hayden the other night and won, he admitted that his wish had been ... to win the wishbone pull (and it came true, unlike those of us who might make more ambitious wishes only to be let down when they don't come true).

There is something very comforting about Cooper and his uncomplicatedness. He does his homework as soon as he gets home, and can't fathom why his brothers procrastinate. He loves baseball and when he plays, the simple joy he takes in playing it is evident to everyone who watches. He likes what he likes with a passion, and doesn't like what he doesn't like. He is literal. He is strong, athletic and popular, yet generally kind. He is happy. And he makes us happy. Every day.

And, best of all, he is house trained!

Not So Gifted At Giving

While most things appear to suck about getting older, at least one theoretical good thing that comes with age is awareness of your shortcomings. Case in point: while I used to think I was an awesome gift-giver, I am coming to realize I may actually be pretty bad at it.

 

Clue #1: When I was younger and living in Lakeview, I would pretty much do all of my gift-shopping at an import boutique in Lincoln Park, showering family members with rain sticks, giant-clocks, mother-of-pearl boxes and other knick-knacks they generally did not want. Looking back, I am a bit more cognizant of the fact that seeing those gifts regularly show up at family garage sales, or be offered back to me after a year or two sitting on some one's shelf, meant they were probably not the awesome hits I imagined at the time.

 

Clue #2 When Deanna had our first child Owen, she was preparing to return to work after maternity leave just as we celebrated her first Mother's Day. For her first Mother's Day, I chose the "reaffirm that I still see her as a professional and not just a Mom" route, and got her a then-cutting edge Sony Clei (remember those!) with an attachable keyboard. Totally cool! Totally not. I somehow missed that she was struggling hard with the guilt of going back to work at all, and my gift failing to acknowledge her as a mother opened a floodgate of unpleasantness that I have yet to live down. Epic fail!

 

Clue #3: I have a bit of company in the occasional gift miss-step in Santa. While Santa has brought some pretty awesome gifts over the years, he also has brought some very pedestrian and downright bad gifts. When Owen was 7, he remarked one Christmas morning that it was the first year he could remember that Santa hadn't given him hand sanitizer in his stocking. Who knew Santa was being keenly monitored from year to year for cheap and easy filler! Other memorable Santa stocking clunkers include foot powder for Deanna, and organic deodorant for Deanna. While such gifts might be downright insulting from a spouse, we can hopefully write-off Santa as simply being somewhat insensitive and perhaps stretched too thin in the stocking stuffer department.

 

Latest Fail: My most recent gift fail came last night as we bestowed gifts on the twins for their landmark 8th birthday (why landmark? Isn't every birthday landmark until you stop wanting to have them???). While generally uninterested in looking good and even less interested in smelling good, Cooper had gone through a phase several months ago where he would show up post-shower smelling strongly of one or another of my manly-smelling body washes (I have several, in an effort to generally smell decent, with bad marketing-to-guys names like "Elixir Black," "Twilight Woods" and the way over-the-top, "Wolfthorn"). So I get the kid his own, awesomely-named "Aqua Reef." "Are you sure?" Deanna inquired as I wrapped it up. Of course, he'll love it, I assured her, wrapping a pleasantly scented arm around her shoulder, which of course caused her to immediately swoon and suggest something inappropriate for this family blog.

 

Later, the gift opening is upon us. The twins first open book lights. Nice gift for our dedicated little readers, right? Apparently not for Cooper, as he would later let us know he "already had one." Then, he unwraps the body wash. Tears. Lots of them. Enough to fill a shower or bath in fact. As he sobbed in the other room after we sent him away to calm down, Deanna consoled him: "Dad thought you would really like it" she explained. "Why? I'm eight!" I heard him sob in reply. "I don't like to smell good. That is a gift you give someone who is twenty!" Ouch. While well-intentioned, I had apparently mis-judged the likes and dislikes of 8 year olds by quite a large margin. So, while all ended well, as the remainder of our gifts to him hit the mark, I have added another chapter to my "starting-to-get-a-bit-lengthy" book of gift fails. Oh, well. At least I smell like an Aqua Reef.     

Culture Club

The local grade school, led by a cadre of cultural arts ambassadors from the parent-teacher association, held a "Cultural Heritage Festival" at the school on Thursday night. The Festival consisted of a number of classrooms being transformed into "countries." Participants were given passports which were stamped with a flag sticker from each country as they entered the various rooms. Awesome idea and much fun.

 

Most of the "countries" featured some food and drink item samples free for the taking. Kudos to whichever parent figured out that the way to cultural education of 2nd graders was through their stomachs, as this created a palpable buzz among that crowd for several of the countries ("Dude, the food in Mexico is awesome!"). Hungary suffered by comparison (I did not overhear any of the kids saying, for example, "mmmmm, paprika!"), as did, predictably, Ireland, although the latter made up some serious ground with an actual keg of root beer. 

 

The Barbados/Puerto Rico room had a fun, island-party vibe to it, with a limbo contest going on during my brief stopover there. Ireland had a sweet display of musical instruments as well as Irish dancers. Bagpiper on the front steps of the school, Latin-American percussionists in the gym, etc. The whole thing was a whirlwind visual and audio-feast for our budding little international citizens.   

 

Owen, who is about to wrap up 5th grade, was somewhat less interested in food and music, and more interested in learning obscure facts about the various countries. The rooms that were adorned with cardboard displays listing various facts about each country were a hit with him in this regard, although I am suspicious that some of the "facts" may have been taken from less than reliable sources:

 

Dubious fact learned #1: Most people who live in the south of France know how to surf. Now I have watched my share of international surfing competitions on TV in my life (my share being 1 1/2) and I must say I don't recall any French names. Perhaps the French merely surf for fun during their 11 months of vacation per year and don't really pursue competitive surfing.

 

Dubious fact learned #2: The French love rugby as much as they love soccer. Hmmmm.... I'll say maybe on this one, although I must confess I have no idea where soccer ranks on the list of things loved by the French. Presumably somewhere higher than their love of fighting Germans and lower than their love of cheese, whining, Jerry Lewis and strikes by civil servants. 

 

All in all though, the Festival was a hit with Family (a/k/a Famille, Pamilya (yep, I now speak Tagalog as of last night!), 家庭, Clan) RedPlanet, and we all left culturally enriched, and perhaps a pound or two heavier!

Beasts of Unburden

Deanna and (especially) I are notorious vacation over packers. This is especially true when we hit the road in our supercool 10-year old Honda Odyssey. Why bring 4 pairs of shoes when you can bring 5 - we're driving, right? Sure the condo we are renting for vacation has a washer and dryer, but what if its broken - better bring the big suitcase. Swimsuits and winter coats - no problem, after all, who really knows what the weather will be.

 

Things only got worse after we bought a car rooftop pod - golf clubs, tennis rackets, balls, bats, baseball gloves, snorkeling equipment, a giant hammock with its surprisingly heavy "portable" collapsible frame - bring it on! Want to bring that surf board we bought on sale at Brookfield Zoo a few summers ago? Why of course we do boys, perhaps this is the year the Lake Michigan surf in Door County peaks above 6 inches! You'll have to sit with it across your laps though, the pod is filled up with sandcastle building equipment, you know, for the times when we are not busy surfing. There have been trips when I have had to actually unpack portions of the interior of the van during rest stops in order to extricate the kids from the third row seats; coolers, and bags spilling out of the side door onto the hot concrete. I have secretly toyed with the idea of buying a small trailer so we can haul even more stuff - why own a van with a trailer hitch if you aren't going to use it! Wouldn't it be awesome to bring all five bikes, I've thought to myself. If we brought them we wouldn't need to rent them, freeing s to actually then take two bike rides instead of one!

 

Things are no better when we fly. We borrow luggage scales and carefully weigh our suitcases, inevitably working our way down by removing luggage items until we are just under the allowed checked bag weights. We stuff oversized "carry" on bags into overhead racks. In fairness to Deanna, I am probably worse than her, as I, left to my own devices, have a penchant for changing clothes for different activities. In that respect I probably would have made a good Downton Abbey resident. The kids seem to have inherited our tendencies, spending their pre-vacation time cooking up elaborate schemes by which to smuggle as many toys and stuffed animals on the trip as they can get by us.

 

Anyway, that all changed last summer when the five of us, accompanied by several Sherpas, boarded a flight to the Pacific Northwest. On board was another family we knew from town, headed, like us, for a week-long trip. Except...not only were they traveling without Sherpas, each member of the family of four was traveling with a single backpack! And not the giant, I'm spending the next six months hiking Europe kind of backpack, but the normal kind of backpack. Confusion, astonishment, disbelief! "How?" we whispered to ourselves after, "were they able to do that?!?" They looked perfectly normal; smelled fine, good even; yet they were travelling with luggage that would barely contain the collection of travel books we were carting on the trip.

 

The sense of awe stuck with us, and during a recent long weekend trip, we aspired to do the same. Three nights in a hotel, five hour Amtrak trip, one backpack per family member, no other bags, no exceptions. And you know what, we pulled it off, despite temptation and the between season weather that was positively screaming for an array of clothing options. And it was, at least for me, freeing, exhilarating even! Showers, minimal sweating, clothing layers, no restaurants demanding much in the way of dressiness from us or the kids (not even the jeans my kids sadly seem to regard as "dress pants"), and we were all set. Turns out I can enjoy a trip even when I haven't brought my own sound machine, cappuccino-maker, monogrammed towels, flat-screen television, badminton set and canoe paddle! Interestingly, I noticed that most of those things were even available in St. Louis, where we visited, had I really decided I needed them.

 

Am I cured? Sadly, the answer is probably no. I'll be fighting the urge to over pack the next trip, and the next twenty after that. I am, however, hiking down the road to recovery, a backpack jauntily slung across my back and my arms swinging free!   

 

 

"Look Mom! No luggage!" Owen, with Hayden, Cooper and Deanna in the background, hits the road luggage-free.

 

What Are the Odds This Winter Will Ever End?

Winter refuses to release its icy grip here, dragging endlessly on towards April, and the boys, now 11, 7 and 7, are definitely stir crazy. The winter has been marked by alternating heavy snows and hovering polar vortexes, leading to what seemed like an endless parade of cancelled school days. Since outdoor fun is decidedly less so at -12 degrees, everyone has had more inside time than anyone wants.

It was against this backdrop on a cold and snowy winter night awhile ago that I broke out a home casino set I got at Restoration Hardware years ago and set about teaching the boys blackjack and roulette. They quickly took to both, and for several days thereafter, the house was a bit like living in a Vegas Hotel. Just like Vegas, morning would find Deanna and I stumbling downstairs bleary-eyed in the morning into a huddle of gamblers, only these gamblers were a bit shorter than your typical Vegas gamblers and with higher voices. Forced to work at home one day during yet another cancelled school day, I found it exceedingly hard to concentrate with the spirited game of roulette going on in the next room. Seriously, it sounded like a drunken band of fraternity brothers on a gaming floor at 3 a.m. Aside from the excited shouts of victory and moans of defeat when Lady Luck turned her back, they were shouting things like "Pay me $100 bro!" and "I'm so rich!" One noticeable difference from Vegas I suppose is that I am frequently fetched by the gamblers here to do the math on how much particular bets have won, and to help them with payouts. I come in handy for shuffling too, something I have found the dealers in Vegas rarely ask my assistance with.

 

Probably not the best thing to teach kids, but the long desperate winter times have called for for desperate measures. Besides, it can be vaguely justified as an educational math tool! Finally, I haven't had to pay an allowance in weeks, as I have promptly been winning them all back. Just kidding on that one, although now that I write it, not a bad idea. Hmmmm, parental lesson: The house always wins boys! Here's hoping winter breaks before I have to resort to teaching them craps.

Free Parenting Advice!

I thought I would start 2013 off with a bit of parenting advice.

 

"Wait a minute Red Planet," I hear you long-time readers saying. "Step back there Bucko. You've barely posted anything in the past year and then come riding in here on your high horse to give us parenting advice! Where the heck have you been and how do we even know you have the slightest notion how to parent anymore?"

 

Fair questions all. As to where I have been, well, uh, there was a move to a new house, billable hours, and, uh, something good on TV that one night. Anyway, I really don't have time for this. If you want to ignore my advice, do so at your own peril.

 

The advice, learned the hard way, is that when a six-year-old tells you he is feeling queasy at bedtime, don't put him to bed in the top bunk. 

 

Yep. There it is. Or was, pretty much everywhere. Big, nasty, three level mess. I've been through a lot a unpleasant things as a parent, including explosive poops that have blown out onesies and diapers in restaurants, amusement parks and other inconvenient locations, and having a one-year old hurl on my shoulder and down my back as I was holding him. But last night rivaled the worst of them. The oppressive smell, the splatter effect, and the sheer number of pillows (3), blankets/sheets (4), sleeping brothers (1), walls (2), floor (1), baseball cards (3), stuffed animals (1) and other miscellaneous objects that were collateral damage in this single incident was record-breaking.

 

I can hear you again, readers: "See, you don't know what the hell you're doing; you should have had a barf bucket up there!"

 

Ah, but we did. But despite that, and our late-arriving and urgently expressed parental encouragement to "Use the Bucket!!!," it was all white noise to a disoriented and half-asleep kid in the middle of a monumental hurl.

 

The one blessing to be found in this season of sick is that the kids seem to hew more towards my wife's family's "one and done" style of dealing with a stomach-emptying virus, as opposed to my family's "repeat retch" style. More representative of my family's style is a diary entry made in 1976 by my 9-year-old self where I dutifully recorded down to the minute the 8 times that I threw up in an 11-hour overnight period (you can see that "write what you know" has always been my driving philosophy as an author).  

 

And so it goes. And while there is no denying parenthood is pretty awesome and full of wonderful, rewarding experiences, I can safely say, having now been there, that scrubbing puke off of walls and sleeping children in the middle of the night is not one of them. Keep those sick kids at floor level!

Clean Sweep for Obama on CloudEight!

The presidential election is upon us! It has been interesting to have such a close race, and with Deanna and I both having a background in politics, we have been interested in finding ways to engage the boys in the goings on.

My first memories of politics are from election night 1976, when my dorky 10-year-old self kept close track of the electoral count on a portable chalkboard (paper apparently hadn't been invented yet). I remember a general air of excitement, not so much at a particular outcome, but just because it was happening, with the news reports and crowds on tv and my parents letting me stay up late. Mostly I remember though how cool it was to hear the results coming in as States were called one way or the other until the race was determined. Since my three guys are very into both math and competition, I decided one way to get them interested and involved was to check out an electoral map. They took to it right away, asking a bunch of questions about why some states have so few votes (yo, Wyoming), how many electoral votes are needed to win, red states and blue states, which ones were undecided, etc. That led to wanting to see maps from previous races, and I found a cool site that had electoral maps with results going all the way back to George Washington's election. We spent awhile flashing through time, watching states get added to the union. Races that qualified as "creams" particularly caught their eye. Reagan wiping the North American tectonic plate with Mondale in 1984 was a particular source of laugh out loud amusement (whoa, that guy only won one State!!!), as was Nixon's trouncing of McGovern (who also managed to eke out victory in just one state).  

We also watched the second presidential debate together as a family (don't be jealous kids, it may sound awesomely fun to be a kid in our house, but it is not all non-stop crazy fun!). Owen in particular paid close attention, astutely summing up on the apparent dislike between the candidates by noting that it seemed like "which ever one of these guys wins would like to put the other guy in jail." He was paying even closer attention than we thought, because when it came time for the mock election at school, Owen informed us that he had persuaded several classmates to vote for Obama by explaining that Romney wants to use up all of our gas and coal before he builds any windmills. When I asked where he had heard that, he told me he had learned that from watching the debate.

While it appears between real voting and the school's mock election that there was a clean sweep for the President in our household this year, I am less concerned about who anyone voted for than building a bit of passion and interest in voting for the future - something I think we were somewhat successful in this year. And I certainly wouldn't view the sweep as a predictor of the election's outcome - my record of voting for winners has not always been stellar, dating back to my very first vote, for the ill-fated Gary Hart in the 1984 Illinois Democratic primary.  At any rate, whoever you support, Democrat, Republican, Green or Libertarian, be passionate in your support, and, assuming you are old enough, get out there and vote!