I once had manure thrown at me. I was a mere teenager, and some thugs who wanted to prove their point threw manure at me.
That is the short of it.
This is the long of it…
My uncle ran for Congress when I was a teenager. It was an exciting endeavor from my
perspective, as I was just starting to form opinions about the outside world. My
family was heavily involved in getting the word out for his campaign, as it was
a true grassroots effort. In the grand
scheme, he had little money for such an undertaking, plus he refused PAC
money. So, in those early stages, it was up to us and a few
amazing strategists to convince an entire voting district that my uncle, a man I
respected and identified as my mom’s baby brother, was up to the task of
holding his own with Heads of State and casting votes on crucial issues. I loved traveling with my family, and it proved to be an amazing education, far exceeding some things I learned outside of the classroom. We traveled all over the district to canvass neighborhoods,
visit cafes, shake hands with complete strangers, and perhaps my favorite
nostalgic memory of all…the parades.
Yes, we would participate in mom and pop parades all over the district,
passing out candy and pamphlets to a string of strangers lined up on Main
Streets through a haze of sweat and American flags. My memory is kind on this account, as we met
many obliging strangers.
My memory is kind…up until a certain point.
At a certain point one summer, we were nearing the end of a
parade trail, and the road led us to a group of thug Union members who
disagreed with us. Do I believe all
Union members are thugs? Absolutely
not. Do I believe these men were?
Absolutely. They strategically placed
themselves at the end of the route, away from the vantage point of children in
the town no doubt, and apparently picked manure from an obliging field. They felt that throwing manure and words of
hate would prove their point. Among our
group were many of my younger cousins.
They were willing to throw crap at children to prove their point.
They proved only one thing. It proved to me that there are
bullies everywhere, who, when given the chance to make their opinions known,
they will do it…at whatever cost possible, with whatever weaponry
available. That memory is burned in my
mind. I remember their actions. I
remember their raised voices, but I cannot, for the life of me, remember what they
actually said. I remember the manure rather than the matter. It was a select
group, but sometimes, select groups unfortunately make the loudest noise.
My uncle went on to serve six terms in the House of
Representatives in D.C.. He had many amazing
people with him along the way, but of course there were those who disagreed
with his choices. Disagreements were
bound to happen, but never in his twelve years of service do I remember disagreement
looking as ugly as what those men were willing to do to him and to us that day
of that particular parade.
THIS election is bound to get ugly, and social media has
allowed us to become flippant and downright mean with our opinions and
agendas. Please…PLEASE…take all of that
passion to the voting booth, and be kind to one another. Say hello to the person waiting in line with
you. Even if you disagree with them, I
think it’s rather exciting to wait in that line…waiting to cast a vote.
Don’t throw crap. Be informed and vote. Then go get ice cream after you vote.
