Tomorrow, it's only a day away...

by Jim Shepherd

Next Tuesday, I hope your day planner begins the same as mine. At the top of my agenda in big red letters is a four-letter word that defines why we're the country everyone loves to hate, but can't wait to visit.

The four letters: VOTE.

Yep, that glorious Tuesday when all the months of ceaseless mud, bull and hyperbole slinging stops - at least for a few hours - as citizens exercise their right to choose the direction of their town, county, state and country.

I'd promised there would be no more tub-thumping for getting out the vote, but doggone it, not voting is no longer an option for any of us.

If we don't express our opinions at the ballot box as insistently as we do with our friends, then, doggone it; our opinions don't really mean anything.

It can't be too-cold, wet, dry, windy or even too-beautiful to dodge your civic obligation next Tuesday. Go out there and vote.

Across the country, various pieces of legislation will impact out participation in the outdoors. North Dakota, for instance, has Measure 2, a ballot initiative that could limit hunting and restrict the rights of landowners. Other states have measures that codify the right to hunt and fish, although I've always held that a "right" didn't have to be granted, only affirmed. But I've had other naive beliefs, too.

The political pundits are wound up to a fever pitch - and they're seeing what they always do in the polling statistics (remember the 3 classes of lies- lies, damned lies and statistics?) a narrowing of the race, generally favoring their personal preference. Like almost everything else in the media these days, it's hyperbole fueled. We can't have a thunderstorm, TV meteorologists interrupt programming with vague reports of "hook echoes" in their zillion-dollar Doppler radar systems (brought to you by......). One of my old standards, The Weather Channel has become slick, glitzy and generally almost as accurate as last year's Farmer's Almanac. Their ratings, and not coincidentally, their ratings rise and fall like an upside down barometer in storms. When the pressure drops, ratings rise. With ratings come revenues.

I didn't mean to launch into a rant about why people no longer believe many of us in the media, but it's one reason many who used to care into a stupor. We've been pummeled with over-statement to the point we just don't want to hear it anymore.

Realizing I'm rapidly approaching (or have reached) the point where "old" and the common vulgate's description of the flatulence are used in conjunction, I have to make a point. While "my-my-my-my generation" helped make this mess with our screwed-up ideas of social conscience, I hope we're turning out next week in an effort to clean up our mess. If we don't, well, you're perfectly justified to point that bony finger of accusation at us.

If you're young, it's your future we're talking about. If you're not so young anymore, it's your chance to remind our elected officials that your vote counts just as much as any other single person in the United States - including theirs.

This week, virtually everyone with a method of reaching you will be clamoring to get you to listen to them and get out and vote. Many of them will be trying to tell you how to vote, but that's not my deal.

All I'm doing is asking that you get out and vote.

Republished from The Outdoor Wire.