He didn’t hang up on me. Instead, the man I’d always considered to be to the right of Atilla the Hun admitted he’d voted for a Democrat in his younger years.

Party politics are different as night and day compared to olden days in Oklahoma.

I got my first taste of politics in the late 1950s. That’s when my best friend’s dad had an ad agency that came up with a “Prairie Fire” campaign slogan that got Democrat J. Howard Edmondson elected governor.

I didn’t have a clue my parents’ politics differed from the new governor until I was an eighth grader. That’s when Daddy gave me an “I Like Ike” for president button, and I found out they were dyed in the wool Republicans.

By 1960, I was a teen correspondent for the afternoon OKC daily newspaper. That’s when then-Democrat presidential candidate and Catholic John F. Kennedy came to OKC, and I was asked to cover a press conference. I turned it down because I was scared to death what my Baptist Momma and Daddy would say about it.

Then I got the bug for politics right after high school in 1962 while a receptionist for the state newspaper association, and also burned the midnight oil tallying election results for a wire service.

Back in those times most Oklahoma newspaper owners were Democrats, and when I turned 21 in 1965, that’s how I registered to vote.

A year later Republican Dewey Bartlett got my first-ever vote in the 1966 gubernatorial general election. He won me over when he was a state senator and called to check up on my boss. I later learned he’d called because Mr. Blackstock was three sheets to the wind the night before, and then-Sen. Bartlett drove him home, and put him to bed.

OK, don’t read me the riot act. There was no rhyme or reason for my vote, except I was young and impressionable.

It also goes without saying that I didn’t appreciate those newspaper folks back then near as much as I should when they argued tooth and nail about politics, but remained friends. Same goes for my opinionated D & R newspaper buddies who’ve never come to blows over party politics.

However, I do remember a discussion at a press convention cocktail party when a friend played his ACLU membership card, and my husband trumpeted it with his NRA card.

That was after we moved to Hennessey in 1978 when I learned another thing or two about Kingfisher County primary elections: you had to be a registered Republican to vote on a candidate.

That just goes to show that I’m no spring chicken, and now about the elephant in the room, and the reason for writing this.

The jury is still out on Governor Stitt.

He’s skating on thin ice with friend John and others, and only time will tell how he fares.

Now I’ll cut to the chase and predict thatJohn ate those words, and voted for Trump. I’m positive he joins the rest of us who wait with bated breath for those presidential election results that are supposed to be late in coming, and a close one.

Your guess is as good as mine as to who will win and when we’ll know. Meanwhile, come hell or high water, or another ice storm, let’s look on the bright side, no more political attack ads on TV every 10 minutes.