(You've likely met him already, unless you have had me on ignore for the last three years or never go into the lounge.)
This is the first picture I took of the child who would become my son. Chris is about 18 hours old here, and scratched up on the face some because the methodone withdrawal made him more than a little tense. It was another 48 hours before we were able to hold him.
My political ideology hasn't been an abstract concept to me since I was in college, but it's never been as concrete as it's become since I've become a father. I don't oppose stupid wars because they aren't nice or because they kill people in the abstract - I oppose them because I fear that my son, hardheaded as he is, may one day enlist against my wishes for him and be killed to advance the career of some fucker slinking around the halls of Congress. I don't support true education reform because I'm an entrenched teacher just waiting it out until I can claim my pension - I support it because it matters both to my son and to the children with learning and behavior disabilities that I teach.
I support the poor, not because I have some sort of guilt that I'm not poor, but because it's important for society to take care of its most vulnerable and I want my son to understand and practice that. I support workers because most of us are or will be, Chris included. I support the rights of gays and lesbians to full access to protection under the law both because it's the right thing and because there's always the chance that he might be gay.
I have ideals, and I don't apologize for them. I've been called a "purist" for years now - those who wish to persist in such labeling are more that welcome to bite my ass.