Up here in Turkey Hollow it really doesn't make sense to put out a yard sign loudly proclaiming your choice for a candidate for public office. No one goes down this one lane dirt road except Wayne Keller. Now, Wayne is an old-fashioned conscientious citizen and he holds this country dear to his heart. His passion this year is the immigration issue and he is articulate and powerful on it. He doesn't need me to tell him how to vote; indeed he would no doubt chide me for littering the beautiful countryside with a silly political sign.

However, I do miss the days in my youth when I would cover myself with buttons, wear silly hats, put out lawn signs, have the mandatory bumper sticker afixed to the car and leave college to work on different issues or campaigns. Maybe it is the reason why I never finished my university education. Self righteousness was my sword and pity the poor person who disagreed with me. There were no shades of gray for me. People were either good or evil. Issues were perfectly clear and there were no complexities to them.

My politics were shaped by movements and a few heroic candidates. I was trained and informed and inspired by the civil rights movement; I learned leadership in the anti-Vietnam war movement, I found my courage in the LGBT movement.

President Kennedy was my first 'candidate crush'. Being fourteen, his speeches and words inspired me into a lifetime of politics. He convinced me of not only my moral obligation to serve those in need but that the world was actually waiting for me to do it. You would have to count me as one of the classic 'Kennedy's Children' - young people he inspired into public service. The youth of America would wait for hours to catch a glimpse of him, so riveted were we by his special grace and his moving speeches. Quotes from his speeches were repeated to each other. We were filled with youthful innocence and we so believed we could change the world.

The day he was inaugurated on a snowy, bitterly cold Washington, DC, morning, almost every television set in America was turned on to the ceremony. On our living room floor, at fourteen years of age, I laid in front of our very small Philco television screen and listened to his call to go into the world. In his speech, a simple phase became a way of life for Americans, "Ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your country." Thousands answered his call and joined the Peace Corps and VISTA. We cared about the poor and wanted to end segregation. We headed South at a very young age to end decades of discrimination. We demanded free speech in our universities and respect for different ideas and diversity of people.

We believed in his words and he believed in us.

The day he was assassinated I lost my youthful innocence. From then on, there were less buttons and more doubt. The world indeed could be a very dark and complex place. Fewer quick answers were on the tip of my tongue. Instead of buttons, I wore black that horrible November weekend. And carried that grief into my politics for years to come. Black and white dissolved into a muddle of gray.

As a young person of the sixties, we saw Bobby Kennedy shot, Martin Luther King shot, the four little girls blown up in Birmingham, the police dogs attacking peaceful demonstrators, and our teenage buddies coming back in boxes from Vietnam. Dying for justice, filling the jails and fleeing the country to protest the War were simply parts of our lives. We were toughened quickly. Many in pain withdrew from the battles, unable to deal with the ugliness of the world. Yet somehow deep inside of me, there was a strong determination never to give up what John Kennedy gave me -- which was a profound belief that I could create change.

What an amazing gift to give to the young. I will forever grateful.