Working Ranch Blog

The Vote by Myles Culbertson & Brett Haas
Jul. 22 2010, 10:08 PM

A week ago, a good friend of mine went back to Iraq for the second time. He leaves behind a wife, a son, and a daughter. Two weeks ago, my brother went to Georgia to see his brother-in-law graduate from boot camp, with his next stop being Iraq as well. Well known western performer R.W. Hampton just said his goodbyes to his son as he was on his way to Afghanistan. This Friday, I'll reunite with an old friend who just got back from Afghanistan. You can read about his adventures here.

I'm sure if you give it a thought or two, you also know someone, whether they be a son or a distant cousin, who also have given part of their life to ensure the freedom that I'm afraid many of us here in America take for granted. If not for the brave men and women of our armed forces, who knows what language we would be speaking today. On August 3rd, starting at 7 a.m. the polls will open in Kansas for primaries. My boss, Kirk, who is also a Marine Dad, sits on the precinct committee for our township. He told me that voter turnout for the last primary in Leavenworth County was 11%. Now, if that ain't just pathetic I don't know what is. Now I know there is a lot to be desired in politics. I get tired of the commercials too. However, I bet you there are a lot of folks who would give a year's wages to put up with those commercials compared to what they put up with in their country. We are very blessed here in America and it seems that we have become either very lazy or cynical. When the citizenry cares more about voting for the next American Idol than the next politician who actually has an affect on their lives, we have a problem.

So when WR editor, Tim O'Byrne, yet another proud father of a Marine, received the following letter from WR reader Myles Culbertson, he thought it had a message we all needed to hear, everyday. I hope you take as much from it as I did.

In the spring of 1972 we were branding calves on my family’s ranch in Northeastern New Mexico. It was the first Tuesday in June, primary election day, and our plan was to finish up the morning’s work, turn the horses loose, and stand down the chuck wagon and camp so that we and the crew could take the rest of the day off to go vote.

Here's Myles' Dad, W.O. Culbertson Jr. ten years after "The Vote" catching some heels. It gives a new meaning to the phrase, "Don't Tread On Me" don't it?

In the corral, as we were finishing up that day’s set of calves, my father’s horse fell with him – the full force and weight of the horse landing on his chest. For a brief moment it appeared his back might be broken, but thankfully that wasn’t the case.

He was able to stand up and kind of walk, but was really beaten up. We were 25 miles from the nearest highway and almost 60 miles from the nearest medical facility. My wife Georgia and I got him into a pickup and drove from the camp to the ranch headquarters, where we changed to a more comfortable vehicle and rushed him and my mother to town.

When we got to town, I turned onto the street leading to the local hospital. Dad tried to sit a little higher in the back seat and asked where I thought I was going. I responded this was the quickest route to the hospital. A little annoyed, he matter of factly said, “No, we have to vote first.”

“Are you kidding? We’ve got to get you to the hospital!”

“Nope. We vote first. Then we’ll go”. After the argument for first getting medical help proved totally futile, I submitted and turned toward the place to vote.

Georgia and I literally acted as crutches to help him into the voting machine, and I closed the curtain for him because he couldn’t raise his arm high enough to reach the handle. After he, and then we, voted, Dad allowed himself to be taken to the hospital, where he was admitted with three cracked ribs, a bruised lung, and a bruised liver.

Myles Culbertson

My family has often laughed about that day and my father’s stubborn insistence on getting to the polls, but the laughter has always been laced with a deep respect for his attitude toward a very precious right and privilege, paid for in blood and treasure so many times in so many places.

In 2004, my brother, W.O. III, part of a provincial reconstruction team in Afghanistan, witnessed their first national election in 5ooo years. He told of a young Afghan woman who wept inconsolably because she had lost her voter certificate and could not cast her ballot. My son-in-law, Matt Peterson, a Marine whose unit provided security in Iraq’s first election in 2005, remarked “I will remember watching people vote for the first time in a democratic election for the rest of my life. Self determination is an amazing thing.” The restoration of those nations continues to be a rocky trail fraught with danger and risk, but if they will hold on to the vote, they will make it.

The lesson of that first Tuesday in June 1972 has never left me. It is the single basic determinant of a free society. This nation and its destiny belong, rightly so, to those who have the passion, and the gumption, to vote.

Myles Culbertson

Thanks Myles. I think this will remind us all that freedom is not free, and its cost is too high for those of us back home to take it for granted. Think of how much greater this country could be if we all had the attitude of your father.

Send your comments to myles@tslash.com or thekansascowboy36@gmail.com, or look me up on Facebook and Twitter.