Going Home

They say you can never go back home. I don’t know who “They” are but I can tell you after this weekend that “They “ are wrong.

I did go home this past weekend. It was 4^th of July and the campaign trail took me to a very familiar place. As a kid my family would spend the 4^th of July the same way everyone in my hometown of Hillsboro, Oregon spent it, watching the parade march through downtown.

But there was something different about this 4^th of July. Instead of watching the parade from the sidelines, I was in it. I’ve been in parades before but not as a candidate for Secretary of State. This is a whole new ball game.

In January my dad passed away and since his death bits and pieces of me have been dying and reawakening. When things die room is made for things to come alive, revive and to grow. Hillsboro was my dads’ town. He was very active in 20/30 and was a teacher at the high school before I was born.

As I was walking through the parade people kept yelling to me, are you Roy and Betty Dancers’ boy? I was so proud to say yes. But I have to tell you it was overwhelming at times. I was walking through the streets of my hometown, a place my parents had been so connected to, and I had this huge lump in my throat. I’d pass the old library where mom used to check out boxes of books each week. We couldn’t believe how fast and how much she could read. I passed what used to be “Engledingers Drug Store”. Don died years ago. His daughter was one of my good friends. Her littler brother and sister, Rosalee and Fred were at the parade and gave me a big hug. I saw the church where 25 years ago, Kathy and I got married. I saw people I went to high school with, Carol Duris who used to hang around our group of friends and the list goes on and on. I even saw my bus driver. She remembered me. I hope it’s not the one who had to put up with my crying every morning when I was afraid to go to school. That was grade school not high school. (smile) I hope it’s not the bus driver who kicked me off the bus when I was a teenager. My manager says I can’t write any more about that. You know how it is when you ‘re a candidate. The past is the past.

But the two big moments of the day are as follows.

When we pulled up to the staging area I saw this sign that read “The Harold Eastman Memorial Rose Garden”. I thought I was going to loose it right there. Harold was my boss for 8 years at Copeland Lumber Yard. He’s the man I credit with teaching me that relationships are more important than anything. He never used those words, he didn’t have to. Instead of telling me how to treat people, he showed me how. What he taught me has been the single biggest asset in my careers so far and there in front of me was a rose garden named after him. Did I tell you Harold loved roses?

The second big moment of the day came near the end of the parade.  This beautiful woman is waving at me and has this look on her face that says, “I need you to see someone”.  As I walked closer and shook her hand I look next to her and there is my best man from my wedding Dan Rychart. I couldn’t believe it. I grabbed the guy, in front of all those people, pulled him out in the street so my manager could capture the moment on video and kissed him on the head. I screamed to my wife Kathy and she came running over and hugged him too.

Later I was telling my mom about the Dan moment and she smiled. She always loved Dan. We did a lot together as kids. He was my dearest friend. One of those guys who understood who you were and why you were the way you were and didn’t care. I love those kinds of people.

In the afternoon we hooked up with Dan and his wife Cindy and some family. We listened to Foghat, Boston and some of the old music we used to play at parties.

 It’s funny: the house we met them at sits right next door to the place my family used to go to watch the parade.

Life has a way of changing. Hillsboro doesn’t look like it used to. But Harold is still there in spirit and so are my dad and my childhood. When people get involved in their communities they leave things behind. You don’t have to have your name on a building to put a lasting mark on a town. In fact, I think it’s almost better if you don’t.

Who says you can’t go home?

They are wrong.

Coming soon. The video.