Serenity Now

Serenity Now

by | Jul 16, 2024 | From the Campaign Trail

Turn off the news. Keep chipping away.

They say all politics is local, and it sure feels that way when I’m walking to a house at the end of a gravel road. There are a lot of those in the north part of the district, and I walk them if I can. People who live a ways from other people can be guarded.

So I was surprised by the very welcoming lady at the end of one gravel road. She smiled at me through the glass door and opened it so I could introduce myself. When I said I missed the Tennessee where people were compassionate and our government had common sense, she nodded in agreement. 

Speaking in the cheery, measured tones of a schoolteacher, she thanked me for running, for stopping to talk. “We need more people doing that,” she said. Then her eyes welled up. “I’ve never been more scared for our country than I am right now.” And she ducked inside and closed the door.

You can’t walk far enough to escape the shadow of our national politics.

I tell anyone who’ll listen that doing what I’m doing—getting out, talking to strangers—is therapeutic. I’ve tried and failed at meditation, but I’m convinced that just driving I-27 North from Chattanooga while listening to Jason Isbell’s “Children of Children” delivers the same results. 

More important, I’m removed, at least temporarily, from what feels overwhelming. I can see that I’m chipping away.

The same day I spoke with that worried woman, I sat with a man on the top step of his brick house in Soddy-Daisy. He called it “a house divided,” but he and his wife make it work.

A former army medic, he shared his idea for using PSAs and influencers to combat gun violence. If it’s politically impossible now to change the laws, he said, we can change the culture—around firearms safety, around bullying, around conflict resolution. He’d floated the idea to various elected leaders but heard crickets. 

I think it’s brilliant. We’ve all seen how powerful messaging can change hearts and minds, for better or worse.

When I stood to leave, the man pointed to other houses I should visit. I checked my app.

“Those aren’t on my list,” I said. “I can’t knock every door, so right now I’m not knocking the most conservative ones.”

“You knocked mine,” he replied.

I showed him my screen. “I was supposed to talk to your wife.”

He smiled. “Well, you got me.”

If you want to chip away toward a better Tennessee, please join my campaign. Click to donate, volunteer, or get a yard sign.

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