Delegate Service Day

On August 28th, 2008, I was uploading pictures for Democrats Work onto Flickr from the day before. It was taking me longer than usual because I was posting them to my personal and work accounts, I was sending them in emails, and I even sent a copy to my mom. They were really a big deal for me. I had just planted trees with President Jimmy Carter. For a guy like me, whose job is community service, that is like meeting the Pope. Few people have lived their lives to be such an example of service, and it was awesome meeting one of my heroes.

Some people in the public eye help get the message out by showing up to an event and drawing people in, but they don't do a lot of the heavy lifting. They cut a ribbon, or dig out a ceremonial shovel full of dirt, and then they do what they do best: communicate a message. I applaud them for that, but I have to admit that when someone rolls up their sleeves and puts their values into action, the leadership of their example hits home for me. Jimmy Carter was born in 1924. He has paid his dues, and I would have been grateful for him to just show up. Fifty years ago, the man was already the senior officer on a submarine. If he had planted a tree, I would have been amazed. He planted three. And while he went from job to job surrounded by a bubble of cameras, he pushed his way through so he could talk about fishing and nature with the other volunteers getting their hands dirty.

At sites all around Denver there were over a thousand volunteers taking time out from being delegates at the Democratic National Convention to give back to the city that hosted the big show. Michelle Obama was filling care packages for the troops on one side of town, there were delegates building a playground for kids on another. All told, there were thirty one different teams working in different ways to make America better, and working on my project was Jimmy Carter, his son Jack, and his grandson Jason. Three generations, all political, and all with an understanding of the new politics of service. President Carter passed the torch, and found a generation waiting to take it farther than a single lifetime ever could.

On August 28th, 1963, another hero had delivered one of the greatest speeches ever recorded. On it's forty fifth anniversary, it was playing in the next room. As I uploaded the photos, Martin Luther King was preaching, "I have a dream that one day on the red hills of Georgia, the sons of former slaves and the sons of former slave owners will be able to sit down together at the table of brotherhood..." "...I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

I listened to those words and looked at the pictures of this delegation from the red hills of Georgia. There was a man, a former President, finishing up his third tree. There was a man, the bus driver whose job for the convention brought him to this site, who once there wanted to join the planting. A black man, a white man, a young man, an old man, and between the two of them a single shovel. It was another sort of passing of the torch. Tired arms handed the work to vigorous arms, but nowhere was there a tired spirit. All around Denver a youthful vigorous spirit was moving. Democrats were feeding the hungry, helping the elderly, cleaning the parks, and getting ready that very night to nominate a new leader for a new time. Someone who could take us the next step closer to the dream.

We have been handed the torch. We can use it to light the way or to burn everything down. We have been handed a shovel, and can use it to plant or to bury ourselves. I have seen the example of Jimmy Carter, and I know the choices of his grandson Jason. I was at the convention when those delegates, who had just given their time and energy to serve their neighbors, gave their voices to nominate Barack Obama. At that moment, I felt the eyes of the future upon us, I knew King's dream was coming closer to reality, and I knew that being judged on our character implies an obligation as well as a freedom. I am no King. I am no President. But I do know how to use a shovel, and left the convention eager to get to work.

In 1963, it was a dream. Unless we build it, that is all that it was. Groups like Democrats Work are a chance for us to make it something more.