Thank you, Dubya

I'm so proud of my dad.

I visited him the other day, and he dropped a bombshell on me: He registered to vote, and he's voting this Nov. 4 for what he says is the first time in more than 40 years.

To know why that's huge is to know my dad.

He is the quintessential crusty old veteran. Yes, that get-off-my-lawn, white-undershirt-wearing grouch who's socially conservative and handy with all things mechanical. As her father's daughter, I also know he has a heart of gold and a soft side, but as you might expect, he's very good at hiding that part.

He's also a 20-year enlisted man and a Vietnam vet. I love listening to his war stories, from how he cowered in a jet's cockpit as a VC sniper shot at the air base he was stationed, to how the servicemen there were paid (in "Monopoly money," so U.S. greenbacks wouldn't circulate overseas), to how he stood in line at the mess tent and and watched a large Marine, fresh from the jungle, get shot in the leg, only to insist he get his food and eat.

He's never said a bad word about our military and never will. Neither will I.

But over the course of the past couple of years, I've listened to how disgusted he's become with Washington. He's now convinced our current leaders have made a complete mockery of the uniform, have damaged our military hierarchy and tarnished our country's good name. And he's fuming mad.

"Why did they use funny money in Vietnam but bring real dollars to Iraq?" he asked me the other day, his voice and blood pressure rising. "Now, millions are missing. Disappeared. They'll never find it."

Also:

"Why aren't these [Wall Street execs] in jail? They knew what was coming."

"She can't name one newspaper she reads? Not even the Anchorage paper? Or one Supreme Court decision?"

"It's such a mess over there [in Iraq]. What are we doing?"

I just shake my head. Not because I disagree with my dad, but because I am in awe that a military retiree could hate the war(s) that much. He's become a big supporter of getting our troops outta Dodge.

I laughed out loud so hard when he recalled to me how a GOP supporter proudly sporting McCain buttons canvassed his neighborhood lately and knocked on his door.

"Mr. H, I see you're not registered to vote yet."

"Yeah, what business is that of yours?" (classic dad)

"Did you know that..."

"I'm voting for Obama."

"Sir, I think that would be a big mistake..."

"Who are you to tell me I'm making a mistake -- on my property? Goodbye."

Of course, a Democratic Party supporter also happened to be working the neighborhood that day, and, in true form, my dad quickly ushered that man off his property, too.

"Mr. H, I see you're not registered to vote..."

"How do you know I'm Mr. H?"

"Um, are you...?"

"What business is that of yours?"

So my dad went and registered. He's voting. This is a man who's vowed to me in the past that he never has had any interest in voting because he's completely disgusted with politics and politicians. As long as I can remember, his attitude has been, "They're all corrupt. There's no one to vote for. Waste of time. Why bother."

He says he's never cared this much about an election since JFK, the last time he cared about a candidate. "And the last guy I liked was shot" -- which also has him concerned. But this monumental change in my dad couldn't have been possible without the policies of the Bush administration. So I guess I owe him some gratitude.