The dark blue sign read “Bush” in bold white letters, and under it “Cheney” in a finer print.

It had the usual array of red stars and stripes, and probably an elephant on it somewhere; I can’t quite remember. But I do recall where it hung: above the door of my Warren Hall dorm room, at Whitworth University, circa 2004.

My newly minted roommate and I had gone so far as to join the student Republican chapter on campus. The sign was swag, offered in exchange for convincing our friends to vote, like us, for the GOP incumbent. (In a Google search to find an image of the sign, I only ran across spoofs bearing impeachment jokes and slogans like “Commander ‘n thief.”)

That was the first presidential election during which I was old enough to vote; the race between Barack Obama and John McCain will be my second.

In fact, I’ve already voted, and placed a big, bold mark next to the Obama-Biden box. But I’m not here to tell you who to vote for.

I’m writing this to tell you about four teens I met Monday while waiting to talk with gubernatorial incumbent Christine Gregoire outside Poulsbo’s city hall. These students were in search of extra credit via a signature from the governor.

When I asked who they would vote for were they of age, I got smiles and shrugs. Three guessed they might cast ballots for Dino Rossi, one said he’d pull for Gregoire because his parents are doing the same.

It’s likely in the next four years those teens, like I eventually did, will come to form individual opinions on the vast, hurling vortex of politics. College does, after all, make you prone to new ideas and an invaluable education.

(OK, my student loan statements put a very clear value on my education. You catch my drift.)

But here is my hope for these teens. When they turn 18, when they graduate from college at 22, when they find themselves choosing between candidates be it for president or the city council, I hope this: that they can turn to their parents and discuss. And I hope their parents, in return, can hold their end of the conversation.

You see, my mom is a very smart person. She’s raised three kids, works in the medical field and is arguably the best friend I’ve ever had.

And she’s voting for McCain.

I won’t tell you our family doesn’t debate it. I won’t say we don’t hash out the pro life vs. pro choice stance or it’s place in the election.

I won’t lie and say we haven’t discussed the idea of health care and the rights of any sick person to be taken care of, despite their financial situation.

I won’t even say we haven’t breached the notion of Obama’s perceived dilemmatic religious background, Palin’s questionable geographical knowhow or Sarah McCain’s age.

Because we have. We’ve debated, discussed, gotten heated, raised our voices and shouted about it all.

But here’s the thing: My mom may be voting for a party with which I no longer identify, but that doesn’t matter as much as the fact that she’s voting.

So is my dad.

And while we may disagree, my parents are still setting an incredible example. Luckier even than I are my younger brothers, who will remember these knowledgeable family discussions when they’re old enough to have political say.

So my point in this narrative is this: No matter who you vote for, no matter your stance on saving the environment, U.S. dependency on oil, the job market or the war in Iraq, please vote.

Do it deliberately, and with thought. Because, as they say, your vote is your voice. And it’s your tax dollar. And it’s your future. Not just yours, but a whole generation to come.

And they’re looking to you to learn how to do it.

Jennifer Morris is a staff writer for the North Kitsap Herald. She covers the city of Poulsbo, loves lively political discussion and is an avid NPR listener. She can be reached at (360) 779-4464 or jmorris@northkitsapherald.com.