My dad was a Republican before I even knew what that meant. He read the paper at the kitchen table, circled things that made him mad, and said half the people on TV had never done a real day’s work in their life.
He never missed Election Day. Rain, snow, bad knee, didn’t matter. He said if you were lucky enough to live in a country where your vote counted, you had no excuse to stay home. I did not always agree with him, especially when I was younger and thought I knew everything.
But I respected him. He loved America with his sleeves rolled up. Paid taxes, helped neighbors, served on little committees nobody wanted to serve on, and believed the country was strongest when families were strong.
This hex is for him, for Nebraska, and for the old-fashioned kind of patriotism that does not care if it is popular.