I wasn't involved in politics at first.
Then when they passed the Military Commissions Act, I quit as a journalist and began volunteering for the local Dems.
Which eventually led me to an internship with Democracy for America, and the Dean family.
The work up there in Vermont was great. We got a new governor elected in Kentucky, and backed progressives across the country.
But the whole time I was up there I worried about back home. A piece of the Bible Belt if there ever was one.
Every week I would call home to our democrat state senator or someone else on the inside, to find out if anybody was going to run for U.S. Congress against right-wing extremist Rep. Virginia Foxx. And every week I got a "no." No mayor, or county commissioner, or judge, or lawyer, or municipal council member would step up to the challenge.
I got discouraged, that I had done all of that work, that sincere push for a better and more progressive country, and had gained the skills to spread it but without an opportunity to do so back home.
My last day in Burlington, Vermont, up on the third story office of DFA - formerly the Dean for America headquarters - I said my goodbyes to my coworkers, all now cherished friends, whom I'd admired for their commitment to sacrifice pay or recognition to fight the good fight. As the day ended I gazed out of my window over Lake Champlain, and thought what I would do going back to college for one last year. Back to North Carolina. Where we had never voted for a Democrat for president, ever, my home county even voted for Lincoln.
The staff had already thrown me a going away party, and now I was down to packing away my things, clearing the desk, and ending the best summer of my life.
As I was finishing Jim Dean walked by, in his infamous short shorts and high socks, naturally, and noticed me finishing up. He thanked me for my work and wished me luck carrying on the fight back home. I told him that all we ever elected were Blue Dogs back home, that is, if we somehow voted in a Democrat, and that no cause back in the tucked away mountains of North Western North Carolina, would really fit what America needed. I expressively noted my concern that no Democrat had even come forward to challenge a woman who voted against giving aid to Katrina victims. He told me, and I will never forget this, "somebody will come forward, somebody will step up, and if they even remotely match your purpose and your ideals, then you go and work for them and get them elected no matter the odds."
I tried to crack a couple last minuted jokes in as I secretly tried to soak in what he was trying to say.
Soon after I was back at Appalachian State University - thirty minutes and one county over from my home town- the local politics were fine it being a "liberal" college town and all. But the town was a small oasis in a twelve county district that produced Andy Griffith, Nascar, Lowe's Hardware, and was most famous for moonshine running and Richard Burr.
That fall I went back to work for the campus newspaper, the same one that had fired my a couple years ago for being cocky. Now with some more experience under my belt including interviews with: Chuck D, Dead Prez, Rep. Ellison, Rev. Yearwood, Saul Williams, Kevin Barrett, Bob Bowman, CIA department director Mel Goodman, Primus, The Wu-Tang Clan, Russell Simmons, Mike Patton, Mike Gravel, etc...I guess I was expecting too much trust. The first story I took, eventually turned into an investigation into BOT corruption, that forced the chancellor to personally have me fired to cover it up.
Betrayed by the school, and newspaper who cut me loose to protect their image. I was out of work. Fed up with reporting. And pondering whether I should go back to that passion I had so not so long ago wielded.
Two days later I picked up a local newspaper and read a small blip brief about an area farmer who had , out of nowhere, declared a bid for Congress. One paragraph now I glanced over the candidates name with utter shock, "Roy Carter, who will retire from teaching in the Winter, to run for Virginia Foxx's seat." That was my Roy Carter!!!!
He had been my own teacher four years prior, back when I was in high school. I remembered him calling out fellow coaches in the lunchroom, while at the table, over their blind support for an invasion of Iraq. Roy was fiery back then, and knew his stuff, although he explained the facts with the style of Knut Rockne rather than Adlai Stevenson. He was more common sense than pure idealism. He took every issue in stride. It was like Huey Long was walking our halls teaching science and giving "don't ever give up" speeches in our lockerooms. It hard to argue that he didn't instill something in me, but I thought of him little after graduation.
After all, it's not like a man who was been a high school teacher for 36 years already is ever gonna amount to anything more.
The next day I called him at his office at North Wilkes High School. I was the first to do so. I told him that I was unprepared to come to terms with the irony or implications of me coming on to work for him, but I pledged that I would stick with him no matter what. So I tried to finish up a sprig semester and help win a primary while defending Roy's progressive stances on issues to crowds who had never heard that type of "talk."
Roy came out against Mountain-top Removal, hardcore. So much so that Duke Power donated treasure chests of safety money to the republican incumbent Foxx as soon as they read the press release.
Sure enough I ended up skipping too many classes because I made attending forums and Jefferson-Jackson Day Dinners a higher priority than dropping in for some elective courses, especially when I had already finished my major in journalism, and minor in political science. What happened? I failed a couple classes. But we won the primary.
And then it was on to un-intended summer school, with geology by day and phone-banking by night.
Then the polls came out. And our "nobody coach" had jumped in the polls. When I finished my last semester of summer school I was left with four credits left to graduate. But the county where my university was located was the strongest one for us in our 12 county district. So I decided to move back home, to the front lines. Now I wake up at 5:30 in the morning to catch a bus up the mountain to school; doing phone-banking in between classes, and canvassing every dirt road and forgotten trailer park I can during evenings and weekends. I am meeting the folks who live just miles from where I grew up, and hearing their stories of getting laid off, or that the bills are too high, or that they have to choose between groceries and medicine. Veterans who've been neglected. Former grade school classmates who can't find work.
My last semester of college was supposed to be filled with parties and tailgates. But, when not in class, most of my time is spent in rooms or on doorsteps listening to the grievances of poor forgotten souls that had been laid off from work before my parents even met.
It's worth it though. Jim Dean was right. His brother's 50-state-strategy is working.
And that unique voice from the wilderness, who rescued the trouble makers and high risk kids from dropping out, who mentored, who taught, who declared that the attack on Iraq was an illegal preemptive strike the second the first bomb fell, is on the verge of history.
Roy retired this year after forty years in the same profession, teaching high school science. His was preaching Global Warming in class before Al Gore even ran for Senate.
Half of his students make starting salaries, out of college, higher than the one he retied with.
Cynics say this can't happen.
Poor folks aren't supposed to get elected to national office.
Folks, help me prove them wrong.
http://www.actblue.com/entity/fundraisers/18412www.roycarterforcongress.com