Monthly Archives: June 2025

Today in History

The Twenty-sixth Amendment made the U.S. voting age 18

On June 30, 1971, the 26th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution was ratified in Ohio, lowering the legal voting age to 18, the 37th state to do so. The following day, it was ratified, becoming the 38th state, and signed into law a few days later. It was, I believe, the fastest adoption of a constitutional amendment in history.

I worked on the campaign to lower the age. It was the first real political involvement of my life. Somewhere in my junior or senior yearbook, probably the latter, is a picture of me and a friend collecting signatures or passing out information on the issue. Last year was the 14th presidential election of my voting life.

One slogan for the 26th Amendment was “Old Enough to Fight, Old Enough to Vote.” It dates back to World War II, though. FDR reduced the draft age from 21 to 18, so there was a certain amount of logic to it. It may have prompted Georgia to lower its age in 1943, making it the first state to do so.

Eisenhower proposed it in 1954. In his State of the Union address on January 7, 1954, he proposed a constitutional amendment to grant voting rights to citizens aged 18 and older, stating, “For years, our citizens between the ages of 18 and 21 have, in time of peril, been summoned to fight for America. They should participate in the political process that produces this fateful summons.” The votes weren’t there in Congress, but it’s the same argument. If one can die for their country, they should be allowed to vote in it.

With the Vietnam War ongoing, the argument and campaign slogan used prior were revived in 1971.

Prior to concluding this with a piece of trivia, a couple of things. First, viewing the political landscape today, I’m not sure 18 is old enough to vote. Second, I can make the argument white males did not have a constitutional right to vote until 1971, while women obtained it in 1920 and blacks in 1870. Alternatively, the 15th Amendment granted all citizens the right to vote in 1870, making the 20th Amendment unnecessary. I’m not going to; it’s just how I amuse myself at times.

As a piece of trivia, the 1968 movie Wild in the Streets proposed lowering the voting age to 14, accompanied by a fight song called “Fourteen or Fight.” It’s an interesting counterculture movie that put those over 35 in “re-education camps” and permanently on LSD. If you get a chance, watch it. It has an interesting twist at the end.

Historically, the Israelites were trapped between Pharaoh’s army and the Red Sea. Moses reassured them with these words, emphasizing the importance of trusting in divine intervention, even when escape seemed impossible.

Today, it’s about not feeling like you need to fight every battle alone because you’re not alone. It’s about divine intervention. A person in my family is having employment issues, but a connection or new opportunity will come through, and all will be well. It doesn’t mean being passive, but peace. It takes courage to be still and turn worry or concern over to another. It’s a matter of trusting God to help us.

Every dog I’ve had, I felt, was my favorite at the time, and there would never be another one like him. There was Smokey, Pal, Fuzzy, Fungo Squash, Bear, Sir Chewsalot, Dandy, Maxwell, and Dumper. But there was this guy. His name was Logan, well, that’s the name I gave him, after the famed Indian Chief of one of the Six Nations of the Iroquois Confederacy.

I picked him up at a pound, one of those dog death camps. He was quite pathetic looking, but there was something about him that I liked. It was clear Logan, as they said, had been abused. For a while, any time my arm moved, he’d cringe. That didn’t last long.

Although he was by no means a puppy, when I got him, he weighed 35 pounds. Just by eating every day, he got up to 85 pounds. When I first got him, I’d take him on walks in the woods, and he’d wobble around. Once, he slipped off a log. As time passed, he bounded all over the place on the hikes we took together.

He never learned any dog tricks. I did teach him to come home at night by flashing the outside light on and off. He loved cold weather. In the winter, he’d sit on the hill on a windy day, overlooking the road covered in snow. On cold nights, I’d bring him in even though I had a fort made of straw in the garage for him.

Logan lived to old age, given his size. You can’t tell from this picture, but he was a Briad, the same breed of dog as Tramp on My Three Sons.

Logan’s death was particularly painful for me. For his size, one vet said he lived longer than usual. I remember the night before his final day; I knew I’d be taking him to the edge of the Rainbow Bridge. I knew he was going to die. I figure he knew it also.

One of the best I ever had-We were buds!

Note: When I prepared this, it was before the bombing of Iran. I thought about changing it. As I was writing, I somehow started thinking about Footprints and began adding. I’m not even sure the actual thoughts make sense now.
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I watched a D-Day veteran meeting with young people in a school last night on Facebook Reels. It was heartwarming to see. The old soldier spoke of being blessed. I saw a comment that caught my eye: “To carry life’s burden and still feel blessed is the true meaning of strength.” I found it powerful. Psalm 29:11 is succinct and captures the essence of the comment to me.

To carry life’s burdens and still feel blessed is not a matter of strength alone but of the grace of God meeting us in our weakness. I figure Christ gives strength to us, blessed with peace.

Even when I am weary and no matter the burden, His grace is sufficient. It means His power is made perfect in me. I should be able to do all things being blessed with the strength He gives us. That reminds me of the last of the last stanza of Footprints, which I’ll link for those not familiar.

A man questions the Lord why, during a man’s roughest times, there was but one set of footprints in the sand when the Lord had always promised He would walk with him.

The Lord responded, “My son, My precious child, I love you, and I would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering, when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried You.”

I can only partially explain this photo. It may have been getting close to Spring. My daughter, Krystal, and I were posing for a picture. It was taken at 231 Crain Avenue in Kent, Ohio. I was 26, 27, or 28, so I was probably in my first year of law school or just a year away from it.