Opinions expressed in this piece are solely those of the author.
What a whirlwind it’s been. The thing that once felt so far away—election day—is now rushing at us like a freight train. We, the onlookers, are standing by the tracks at the station, breathless to see which engine will pull in first. Will it be Harris, or will it be Trump? The winner of this race will determine so much.
Meanwhile, here in the heartland, it’s harvest time. Tractors and semis full of grain rumble down the country roads. Their slow, steady roll forces me to slow down, too, interrupting my heated rush through daily life. Combines circle the fields, filling their hoppers with golden kernels of corn and soybeans. Clouds of dust mark their passage.
These idyllic scenes belie the turmoil and anxiety in the air. Far away from these pastoral landscapes, there is much that’s happening in the country at large. Two assassination attempts of one candidate remind me that all is not well, even here on the “fruited plains.”
I’ve been pondering several recent events that have taken place on the campaign trail. The first one was the image of President Trump serving food at McDonald’s. Apron on, leaning out of a drive-through window, he dispensed burgers and fries to hungry customers. Packing boxes, taking his turn at a fryer, he stood for a few, brief moments in the shoes of the common man. Seeing him in that apron, many of us saw ourselves.
I began working at a restaurant when I was fourteen. There, I washed dishes, then moved on to waitressing. Through high school and beyond, I worked. I did not love it, but I did learn to love what it taught me. I learned responsibility, to show up on time, to give the boss my best. I also learned that working hard brought rewards, and so I worked very hard for those tips.
Our own sons started out in food service jobs. Humble, monotonous work, it was, but it taught them the fundamentals of holding a job. It was character building, and it was important.
The second image of consequence came because of a comment by President Biden in which he referred to Trump supporters as “garbage.” Upon which President Trump donned the high-visibility vest of a garbage worker, and he took a ride.
“The nobility of the working class.” That phrase has been on repeat in my mind. There is a true nobility in the men and women who work with their hands.
My people were wheat farmers and body shop workers. They grew things and fixed things with their hands. Here in the R.V. capital of the world, thousands of Americans, men and women alike, work on the line, turning out the recreational vehicles that travel from coast to coast and even abroad.
Here, too, construction companies prosper. Amish crews build houses. They craft cabinets and furniture of the highest quality. With no more than an eighth-grade education, they make things that will far outlast them, all of this with their hands.
Friends and family of ours have excavation businesses. Using large, heavy machines, they move dirt and lay foundations upon which sprawling structures are built. By the sweat of the brow and the strength of their sturdy backs, they contribute in mighty ways to our community.
Earning an honest wage, providing goods and services that people need, and caring for one’s family is indeed a noble endeavor. It is filled with honor. In a rancorous, wild election cycle, it was refreshing to see that reminder from the man who is running for the Oval Office.
One other notable development this week was the charge by Mark Cuban that President Trump is never surrounded by “strong, intelligent women.” This provoked an outcry, and it should have.
During Trump’s first term in office, I had the privilege of attending a press briefing at the White House. It was hosted by four of the women in his administration. From their respective departments, they gave updates on what they were doing, and they allowed us to ask questions. Every single one of them was professional, warm, articulate, and extremely competent. As such, Mr. Cuban’s words are a lie, and women across the country are rejecting it.
There are so many reasons I am voting for Donald Trump for the third time. I could list things like immigration, the economy, and the protection of our constitution and the rule of law. However, it was something he said this week that pulls the whole bundle together and tops it with a bow.
“You can’t lead America if you don’t love Americans. It’s true. You can’t be president if you hate the American people, which I believe they do.”
And there it is. Without love for America and her people, no man or woman can be a leader fit for the task. No candidate is worthy of the office if they do not have such love. As small-business owners, my husband and I would never hire someone who hates our company, our mission, or our clients. It would never work. If that is true for a business, it is wholly true for the leader of the free world.
We cannot have a perfect leader. There has never been such a one on the ballot; never shall there be. We are not voting for a priest, a pastor, or a saint. We are voting for the one best qualified for the job, and the first and greatest qualifier is love.
May God bless America and see her through the coming days.
