The Family Trip That Sparked a Lifelong Passion for America
The first and only trip we ever took as a family was to Washington, DC. It was a significant event for us because we had never really gone on trips before. Mom referred to our visits to Nebraska, Colorado, and Indiana as "obligations." As a child, I enjoyed those obligatory trips for the most part, but nothing compared to how that trip to DC impacted me. I was either eight or nine years old at the time, which I know because the trip was primarily for my brother. My brother, who is technically my half-brother, is a little more than ten years older than I am. This trip was meant to placate the big fat "no" our parents had given him regarding his future. He desperately wanted to attend George Washington University. Brilliant, charismatic, and full of grand dreams, he aimed to go to GW to change the world—or at least, that's what I assumed. It’s possible he just wanted to escape from Mom and Dad or was attracted to the prestige of attending GW. Unfortunately, my parents, who seemed to share a unified front, told him there was no way they could afford to send him to college and they wouldn’t help him. So, much like I would do ten years later, he decided to join the military, just as our parents had done. In an act of defiance, he enlisted in the Army instead of the Air Force, and, similar to our parents’ experiences, he served only his initial enlistment before leaving to pursue his education, which did not lead him to GW. Ironically, over two decades later, I graduated from GW with a Master of Professional Studies in Political Management—a feat he refused to congratulate or acknowledge. The trip to DC was a weak attempt by my parents to give their chosen son something special so he wouldn’t resent them for what he perceived as ruining his life. To be fair, life turned out pretty well for my brother, at least professionally and financially. I got to go on the trip, although nothing about it had anything to do with me. I wasn’t asked what I wanted to see, where I wanted to go, or what I wanted to do. But none of that mattered because the trip was magical. I fell in love with the sights—the White House, the Capitol building, the Constitution, the Declaration of Independence, the Magna Carta at the Archives, the Supreme Court, and the incredible monuments dedicated to the giants of our history. DC was the most fantastic city I had ever seen. At that point, my travel experiences were limited to Burnsville, Minnesota; North Platte, Nebraska; Marion, Indiana; and Denver, Colorado. To this day, nearly four decades later and after a lifetime of world travel, DC remains one of my favorite cities. Everyone seemed so busy and important. I was captivated by everything about it and dove into books about DC, the Presidents, the Founding Fathers, and anything else remotely related. Years later, I would have a teacher who ignited what may have already been born in me: a passion for government. Mr. Perkins, my 9th Grade History teacher, was one of the few educators who truly made a difference—such is often the case in public school education. His lessons on the legislative process entranced me, revealing the ancient origins of many ideas that helped build our nation and showcasing the incredible achievements of seemingly ordinary men who forged our country. I have always wanted to be a part of what those men built. The fact that these relatively ordinary individuals—many of whom faced significant and public personal and professional failures—could create the foundation for the United States astonished me and continues to inspire me today. It’s their ordinariness that appeals to me. They weren’t superhuman geniuses chosen by a higher deity. They were ordinary people fed up with the struggles they faced, who chose to take action and show daring. What’s not to love about that? At my core, I have always wanted to be part of the American Experiment, inspired by those two experiences from my childhood. I’m just an ordinary person with my share of personal and professional failures in both my past and likely in my future. One day, I plan to run for political office—not because I think I'm better or more intelligent than anyone else, or because I crave attention or power. I will seek office because I believe in what the United States stands for: the pursuit of dreams, the courage to strive for greatness, the freedom to fail brilliantly and rise again. To be a part of something that meaningful, even if only for a fleeting moment, would be a dream worth chasing.
