Monday, November 2, 2015
The last time I got political was when I was signing online petitions in some desperate plea,
Please don't bail out the banks.
Trying to love,
Then they bailed out the banks, and I conceded that maybe I'm just not smart enough to understand the ins and outs of absolute catastrophe. That's when I decided no more politics for me until all these years later this guy said vote for me. Life is filled with irony, I think.
When we were told by our leaders that everything was falling apart he was one of the reasons I was coming home in those dreams. Crawling on my belly, dragging my kid. I didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know who my brother was. I had a lifetime of research on him.
I knew he knew the land and had a love for it like a face painting college football fan. Home, family, friends, kids, this guy, I knew, without having to read one thing, was a guy who lived with integrity. I knew where he got it from. I was very familiar with the people who raised him. I knew how smart he was, because I had spent much of my life arguing with him. Most of the time to simply get his view on an issue that concerned me.
I respected him so I listened to him, and I knew that if he told me I needed to tend to a garden because we needed to eat then that's what would be. Now, almost a decade later, he said, "Vote for me."
And I asked, "What else can I do for you?"
Because one of the best things about returning home is meeting the man my bother grew up to be. The husband, the father, the son, the brother, the teacher, the leader.
Today I am grateful for both of my brothers, for how extraordinary it is to see the grown up version of a kid who I first looked at and then looked at my parents and asked, "Didn't we have the perfect life? Wasn't it great with just us three?"
I am grateful for the realization that my brothers can be the best of us. It is an honor to be in their family. I am grateful to finally feel like I can be smart politically.