A little background. I was the (apparently) lone liberal in a rather conservative North Carolina family. When I went to college, I became -- for the first time, really -- more than vaguely interested in politics, and, more importantly, I found the words for the feelings I'd had that the politics I'd been raised with were just not right.

I came out, as it were, as a liberal (before I came out in the more conventional sense of the word).

Granddaddy was, I think, more amused than anything at my sudden interest in politics, and my new outspoken opinionated-ness. So we argued in a good-natured way (at least from his perspective), often at the Sunday lunch table, about why I thought Jesse Helms was evil, and why Hillary Clinton could save healthcare if those damnable Republicans would just get out of her way and if Rush Limbaugh would just stop talking.

My grandmother would gently try to steer the conversation to something more neutral, like the latest goings-on on "Days of Our Lives" (our favorite soap which we watched together whenever we could). But Granddaddy, grinning mischievously, would say one more thing about the "wonderful" things that fine man Jesse Helms had done for our state, and I'd be unable to refuse the bait.

For the rest of his life -- sixteen more years, about -- Granddaddy and I talked politics. We always came down on opposite sides, always. As I got older, my ability to articulate my positions grew, and my experience allowed me to talk about issues of social justice and the failure of the free market in such areas as healthcare and education, without merely resorting to talking points. I give my Granddaddy credit for this -- he always pushed me to explain my positions, and he didn't let me get away with intellectual laziness. And, almost always, there was that little mischievous smirk, that sparkle in his eye, that let everyone else know that he was having a great deal of fun at my expense.

For most of my adult life, I knew, the same way that I knew I had blue eyes, that Granddaddy and I were practically polar opposites, politically. And I knew, just as profoundly, that it didn't really matter. We loved each other, we enjoyed our debates, and, though I always suspected he wanted me to change my views, I never felt coerced into pretending to think anything I didn't actually believe. He taught me that people of good will can disagree on fundamental issues without sinking to the level of ad hominem attacks and without damaging relationships.

When I visited him for the last time, the primaries for the current election were just beginning. Granddaddy sat in his tiny assisted-living facility room, unable to care for himself after a serious car accident. He had a blanket over his knees and a carton of Food Lion butter pecan ice cream in his hand. He was watching the news, and, as it has been for two years now, the focus was on the election.

Conversation had faltered -- we'd been over how he liked the latest Grisham book-on-tape I'd gotten him for Christmas and how I was doing up in Boston. He looked so weak, so frail. My mom had told me about his failing memory, his lapses into a frightening fantasy world, and I was grateful that he knew me and that we'd had as much conversation as we had. The silence grew longer until I asked, gesturing at the television, "So, who would you like to see for President?"

"Well," he said, taking a bite of ice cream. "I think I'd like to see Obama elected."

I inhaled sharply. "Me, too," I said. "I'd really like to see him as my President." I was astounded. We agreed? On politics? My grandfather, the Jesse Helms supporter?

A hint of his grin returned. "Not Hillary?"

I laughed. "We had eight years of a Clinton -- I'd like to see somebody new." I grinned back. "Hillary would be fine, though."

"I just don't see anybody else in there that's worth anything, on either side," he said. He went on to tell me about Giuliani and McCain and Romney. And, of course, Hillary Clinton who he still despised.

Like many people throughout the country, Granddaddy's faith in the Republican party was destroyed by President Bush, but I don't know that he was ever a straight-party Republican voter. He really did, I realized, evaluate the candidates on their merits, not on their party. With Obama, I think he saw the chance for intelligence and thoughtfulness and moderation to return to our government.

Many people disagree with Obama on policy issues, but even early in the campaign, Obama let it be known that it was okay for people of good will to disagree with him. As a country, we'll work it out. Together. Would that more people, in and out of politics, feel the same.

So, on the 4th of November, I'll be casting my vote for Obama, the first African-American to nominee of a major party. A man who I greatly admire, and whose policies, while more centrist than my own leftist ideology, I mostly support. I wish Granddaddy was still here, so we could, finally, be on the same side.