When Retirement Plans Get Derailed - Following My Father's Path

The Monday Rally Band Set The Rally Mood Each Week With Music

A little more than a year ago, I stood outside historic Fire Station #1 in Roanoke, Virginia. Inside, Beth Macy was announcing her candidacy for Congress in Virginia’s 6th District. I don’t know the official headcount, but the building was packed to the gills, and I stood outside with perhaps 150 others in the cold, brisk wind. There was a lot of energy that night. A lot of hope, too. Having retired a few months earlier, I expected to be doing a lot of relaxing, writing and enjoying music.

    I live in a tiny speck of blue in a sea of red known as the 6th District. It’s Trump country, and running for Congress as a Democrat seemed like the longest of long shots. But there stood Beth, a trusted and fearless truth-teller whose investigative reporting had exposed the opioid crisis gripping the nation. Her bestselling book Dopesick helped put pharmaceutical giant Purdue Pharma in the legal crosshairs. She had stood up to their threats and lawyers without backing down.

    My father was a longtime Democratic precinct captain in Joliet, Illinois, just south of Chicago. He was a backroom guy, a mainstay of the smoke-filled rooms where candidates were chosen, strategies developed, and guys like Dad made sure voters turned out. When he died in 1990, I was amazed by the number of congressmen, senators, and other elected officials who attended his wake.

    I had avoided active roles in politics for most of my life, but January 6th was a deal breaker. The freeing of those rightfully convicted for their roles in that violent insurrection signaled that the rule of law meant nothing to the new administration. As an Air Force officer, I had sworn an oath to support and defend the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic. That oath had no expiration date. My country was calling and, like before, I was ready to fight for it.  When I felt that calling, I didn’t know what form it would take, but Beth’s campaign launch gave me a direction. My retirement plans would have to wait.

    Two months after Beth’s announcement, she was a keynote speaker at the Roanoke Regional Writers Conference at Hollins University. Afterward, I waited while she chatted with attendees. When the line cleared, I stepped up and said, “I’ll clean toilets if it helps you get elected.” I handed her my number.  She laughed and smiled. Clearly, nobody else had made that offer.

    The following week, her young campaign manager called. We discussed my background as a veteran and businessman. Before long, I joined several other guys to develop and execute a strategy to meet with veterans across the district and hear their thoughts about VA staffing and benefit cuts. We spent much of the spring, summer and fall doing just that. Beth is an excellent listener and meticulous note-taker. Veterans of every rank showed up, from flag-rank Naval officers to grunts. The conversations mattered. Supporting veterans was a major part of Beth’s platform.

    Throughout the spring, summer, and fall, I also attended weekly downtown rallies for Beth as part of a live music group called the Rally Band. We were mostly retirees, many with memories of the civil rights rallies of the 1960s. Like Beth’s campaign announcement, the rallies were lively, well-attended, and fun. They gave us hope that maybe, just maybe, she could pull off an extraordinary upset.

    Beth certainly did her part. She campaigned tirelessly, driving Interstate 81 and crisscrossing the district 12–15 hours a day, six or seven days a week. She met with all kinds of people, not the friendly, carefully curated groups preferred by her opponent. She listened as much as she talked, filling reporters’ notebooks with stories, requests, and contacts. She showed up at food banks and homeless shelters. She refused PAC and corporate contributions and still outraised her opponent. Through it all, she inspired people who too often have nobody representing them in Washington.

    I also knocked on doors, sometimes in neighborhoods where trust in politicians is practically nonexistent. I spent 45 minutes talking with one man who had served years in prison. Today, he mentors high school students, helping them avoid his mistakes. He told me elections don’t matter in his neighborhood. Nobody believes anyone in Washington cares whether they live or die. People fear being detained or deported simply because of the color of their skin. It was an eye-opening and heartbreaking discussion.

    Still, as the campaign reached its final days, we were hopeful of victory. The crowds were large and loud. Beth was at the top of her game. Last Tuesday night, I attended an election watch party downtown with Beth and her supporters. The room was packed, the energy high, and the mood confident. But by 9 p.m., it was clear that the massive blue wave sweeping the country wouldn't reach the 6th District. Beth lost by about 12 points, the best showing by a Democrat in the district in roughly 30 years. Still, it wasn't enough. She won Roanoke, Harrisonburg, and most major population centers handily, but the hard-to-reach rural areas remained solid red.

    I have no regrets. As a team, we left it all on the field. Beth was the superior candidate, and I'm proud of what we accomplished, though we fell short of our goal. Nobody said the election was stolen or anything other that we were proud of Beth and the campaign.

    After a week of reflection and post-election analysis, it's clear I was far from alone in rejecting Trump and his policies. I hope the Democrats elected last week use their power wisely. I hope they remember that "We the People" entrusted them to represent all of us, including those who voted Republican or didn't vote at all. As the Bible says, "If a house is divided against itself, that house will not be able to stand. I guess we'll see.

    Maybe Dad is looking down from some lofty, smoke-filled cloud, pointing at me and telling his friends, "That's my boy." I hope he's proud of my work on Beth's campaign and my stand for veterans. He fought in Europe during World War II and taught me a lot about right and wrong, and what's worth fighting for. I'm glad I stood up for those same values: that everyone deserves a shot at a decent life. Not just the rich and powerful. Everyone.

    Have you or someone in your family ever worked on a political campaign, served as a poll worker, or helped administer an election? How did it feel to support democracy that way? Would you encourage others to do the same?

    I'd really like to hear your thoughts in the comments. I hope we can have a thoughtful, respectful, and productive conversation.

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    Thank you for reading—and for walking this road with me.