Last night Joe Biden held a rally at the local apple orchard about two miles from our house. We were on the fence about going, only because I was headed out to California this morning and didn’t know what kind of stress monster I would be at 4:30 in the afternoon. But there was a quiet window around 4:00 and we escaped before anything could hold us back. Off we went — Dave, me, and the brothers who brought along a buddy for good measure.

It was a step back in time. We parked in a remote lot about a quarter mile from the rally. Under perfect skies with a light breeze, a hay ride picked us up and transported us to the site. There were picnic tables and hay bales set up in front of a podium for people to park themselves upon. Everyone was in a good mood and the upbeat music over the loudspeaker kept us all cheerful. We saw neighbors, friends and teachers from our community, all giving one another that look that says, “I’m glad were on the same team.” Lots of different colored faces. And right before Joe took the stage, (I kid you not) a rainbow appeared in the sky. I have lived in these suburbs my entire life and I have never felt quite so wholesome.


Joe, of course, was great, talking about the middle class, sticking to the issues, and going out of his way to praise McCain’s character. There was no mud slinging. He even chose to use the word “malarkey” as opposed to any of the words I would have used when referring to the Republican ads of late. In the spirit of full disclosure, I have a little crush on Senator Biden, something I admit freely to my husband who somehow isn’t threatened by this information in the least. After the rally we went out for hamburgers and milkshakes.

This was the second presidential campaign event we went to as a family this year. Last Spring, we took the boys, along with Jennifer and Malcolm, to hear Michelle Obama at Haverford College.


At both events they probably absorbed about two percent of what was said. But the return on the investment was priceless. They got to see democracy at work; they understand that their parents care about who is elected; and they got milkshakes. Come November 4, they will come into the voting booth with us and help us pull down our levers, perhaps seeing us as more than just Mom and Dad. They will see us as citizens. And this year, I would argue, that role is just as important.

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