Open Letter to Sam Brownback
Dear Senator Brownback,
I owe you an apology, sir. We have had an hot-and-cold relationship ever since you started making your presidential aspirations known, and now that you have withdrawn from the presidential race I find myself reflective.
Back in the Fall of '05 it became apparent to me that you wanted to run this country. You found yourself on the front page of the newspaper as you spoke out against the Harriet Meyer nomination, and a few months later you found yourself profiled in Rolling Stone. You were positioning yourself well with all of the free publicity, but I had my doubts. Other than both of us having Kansas drivers licenses, I anticipated us having much in common. The metropolitan black guy who was an independent voting registered Deomocrat and the conservative Republican from rural America seemed like odd companions.
But the more you talked, the more I was impressed with the platform that you were running on. AIDS awareness. Prison Reform. Fair economic practices. Human dignity. It was all so refreshing and different from the other political conversations taking place, and it really resonated with where I find myself in my attempts to know God and live a life that honors God.
People kind of freaked out when I would casually drop my Brownback bomb in political conversations. It was as thought they thought I had been body-snatched. Even as I explained to them why I'd totally vote for you, I don't think anyone ever left the conversation completely believing my stance.
But then I didn't do enough. You were the candidate I was praying would show up on the scene, and I should have been screaming from the hilltops that you were here. You were going to be our Neo. You were going to be our Luke Skywalker. And instead, you were one of the first Republican candidates to drop out of the race. Apparently, you platform of grace and mercy and good news doesn't sit that well with voters. We're too concerned with finding the candidate that will be the "toughest on terrorism" (read: "who will go start more wars"). Go figure.
The whole ordeal came to an exasperating conclusion when I read your editorial yesterday in the Kansas City Star. As I sat there, I uttered a mild profanity toward myself for not sending you money, not putting a banner on my blog, not putting up a sign in my yard, not doing something more. I went back to the article last night and mentioned to my wife that we should have sent you money. She said whatever we sent wouldn't have been enough. I started reading segments of the article out loud to her, and her opinion changed. "We should have sent him all of our money," was the conclusion she came to.
Mr. Brownback, you have some great hopes for this country of ours. I hope that your passion and vision will come to be shared by others in the political establishment, and that your ideas will rub off on others. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and promise to be a more vocal supporter of yours should the opportunity arise again.
Fair Dinkum
Christian Dashiell
I owe you an apology, sir. We have had an hot-and-cold relationship ever since you started making your presidential aspirations known, and now that you have withdrawn from the presidential race I find myself reflective.
Back in the Fall of '05 it became apparent to me that you wanted to run this country. You found yourself on the front page of the newspaper as you spoke out against the Harriet Meyer nomination, and a few months later you found yourself profiled in Rolling Stone. You were positioning yourself well with all of the free publicity, but I had my doubts. Other than both of us having Kansas drivers licenses, I anticipated us having much in common. The metropolitan black guy who was an independent voting registered Deomocrat and the conservative Republican from rural America seemed like odd companions.
But the more you talked, the more I was impressed with the platform that you were running on. AIDS awareness. Prison Reform. Fair economic practices. Human dignity. It was all so refreshing and different from the other political conversations taking place, and it really resonated with where I find myself in my attempts to know God and live a life that honors God.
People kind of freaked out when I would casually drop my Brownback bomb in political conversations. It was as thought they thought I had been body-snatched. Even as I explained to them why I'd totally vote for you, I don't think anyone ever left the conversation completely believing my stance.
But then I didn't do enough. You were the candidate I was praying would show up on the scene, and I should have been screaming from the hilltops that you were here. You were going to be our Neo. You were going to be our Luke Skywalker. And instead, you were one of the first Republican candidates to drop out of the race. Apparently, you platform of grace and mercy and good news doesn't sit that well with voters. We're too concerned with finding the candidate that will be the "toughest on terrorism" (read: "who will go start more wars"). Go figure.
The whole ordeal came to an exasperating conclusion when I read your editorial yesterday in the Kansas City Star. As I sat there, I uttered a mild profanity toward myself for not sending you money, not putting a banner on my blog, not putting up a sign in my yard, not doing something more. I went back to the article last night and mentioned to my wife that we should have sent you money. She said whatever we sent wouldn't have been enough. I started reading segments of the article out loud to her, and her opinion changed. "We should have sent him all of our money," was the conclusion she came to.
Mr. Brownback, you have some great hopes for this country of ours. I hope that your passion and vision will come to be shared by others in the political establishment, and that your ideas will rub off on others. I wish you the best in your future endeavors, and promise to be a more vocal supporter of yours should the opportunity arise again.
Fair Dinkum
Christian Dashiell