How Are We All Doing?

Hello, friends and kind strangers.

In these final hours before Election Day, so many people are reaching out to see how we’re doing. This is what it means to be part of a community, and I am moving into tomorrow feeling so grateful.

I’ve been thinking a lot about the embrace of community, and how it sustains all of us who choose to be part of something bigger than ourselves. Earlier today in Cleveland, former President Bill Clinton headlined a rally for Sherrod. What an uplifting two hours--spending time with President Clinton, yes, but also talking to people from so many different backgrounds who are united in the cause.

The joy of greeting one another and sharing stories from the trail is such a welcome break from the Democratic habit of spinning worst-case scenarios that leave everyone feeling anxious and depleted. Good people worry because they know what’s at stake, but whenever we gather it is easier to see signs of hope. So often in recent days, I’ve entered a room with a cheering crowd and thought of childhood lessons of our union home.

“People like us, we don’t have power when we stand alone,” my father often said. “Our power is in our numbers, when we stand shoulder to shoulder, loud and strong.”

Sherrod and I have felt the unifying gift of community across Ohio—but also on the front steps of our home. Last Thursday, we did the most normal of things, for us. We poured 600 pieces of candy into a large wicker basket and carried it out to our front porch. For two hours, we sat side by side on the top step in the warm breeze and greeted children from other neighborhoods.

We live in the largest development built in the city of Cleveland since World War II. Few kids live here, but we are known as a place where hundreds of children can safely walk our streets on Halloween. Our house is on a slight hill, which gives us a clear view of oncoming traffic. Every time I see that steady stream of cars making the slow crawl toward our house, I feel such a surge of gratitude for this community full of doors opening to other people’s children.

This Halloween was a little different for us, and for that we blame and credit the relentless campaign ads airing on television. We had about 400 or so Trick-or-Treaters, and nearly a hundred of them recognized Sherrod and called out his name. One nine-year-old boy immediately shook Sherrod’s hand and told him he was proud of him. A little girl looked him up and down and said, “You look a lot nicer than you do on TV.” I assured her the awful ads were lying about my husband. She nodded, put her hands on her non-existent hips and said, “I knew that.”

My favorite interaction was when a 10-year-old boy flipped up his mask and with wide eyes said, “Sherrod? Sherrod Brown? Sherrod Brown!”

“That’s me,” Sherrod said.

The boy plowed into Sherrod and wrapped his arms around him. His three young companions followed suit. In the waning glow of the setting sun, my husband was engulfed in a group hug. Parents stood in our driveway and laughed.

“We voted for you,” a mother said, placing her hand on her heart.

 “So did we,” a couple shouted in unison.

As one family walked away, I heard a boy say, “I still can’t believe I met Sherrod Brown. And that was no costume.”

These encounters with so many beautiful children made us laugh, but they were also a poignant reminder of how those little hearts and minds have been exposed to an onslaught of the vilest Republican attack ads of Sherrod’s career. In September alone, a handful of billionaires spent $40 million on dark, misleading ads targeting some of America’s most vulnerable children. It’s not that these rich white men don’t know how their menacing ads affect the children who watch them. They just don’t care.

Stop, I’m telling myself as I type. The time for dwelling has passed. Eyes forward, heart wide open.

Today, Sherrod’s morning began with a sing-a-long chorus of Our House by Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young. A family favorite because our house is a very, very, very fine house.

Two weeks ago, actor Martin Sheen joined us for 20 events in four days. I’ve written before about our friendship with this wonderful man who, at age 84, refuses to give up on our country—or himself. Crowds turned out for every event; hundreds of selfies with Martin at every one of them. At the end of most of these gatherings, Martin announced that we were taking back our flag and our songs, and then led all of us in singing America the Beautiful.

The first couple of times, I wasn’t sure how this was going to go. By the fourth time, I couldn’t wait to hear—and watch—everyone singing their hearts out. Some of the biggest cynics I know belted out the lyrics with tears in their eyes. True story: Most of us would rather hope.

One more time, I offer the late Rev. William Sloan Coffin’s definition of patriotism: “There are three kinds of patriots. Two bad, one good. The bad ones are the uncritical lovers and the loveless critics. Good patriots carry on a lover’s quarrel with their country, a reflection of God’s lover’s quarrel with all the world.”

Sherrod will be home soon, after having finished his final campaign event. We have a full house waiting for him. Lots of laughter and calls for Grandpa, Grandpa, Grandpa. A steaming bowl of homemade chicken soup. Two dogs exhausted from joy.

And love, so much love.