Gus Walz threw me into the tank as he jumped up from his seat and shouted, “That’s my father!”
Tim Walz, the football coach and governor of Mankato, had just expressed his love for his family before God and at the Democratic National Convention.
17-year-old Gus has special needs. His parents call them his “special powers.” Indeed.
It was real and honest. Real. That’s what America is craving right now, not to mention sweet love.
It was seen live on television: an entire nation gathered around this boy.
Count me among the former skeptics.
Walz annoyed me last year on a few forays south into Iowa. The governor rebuked us for going backwards so quickly, which we deserved, but I kind of resented that familiar Minnesota complacency.
Besides, Walz is from Nebraska. He couldn’t help it. We banned books. We undermined children’s nutrition. We shamed homosexuals. We banned abortion. The right has been in the fast lane here for a decade.
Got it, boss. Heard you loud and clear. The reminder wasn’t really needed. Oh, is it time for you to go now? Long drive to St. Paul ahead of you, and I-35 can be a real pain in the ass. See you then.
Then in the last few weeks he appeared on television and accused Donald Trump and JD Vance of being weird, which they are. Few people east of Eau Claire had heard of him. They should vote for the governor of the important swing state of Pennsylvania or the astronaut from Arizona, not the chubby bald guy, I thought. Wow, Betty, I was wrong again.
Kamala Harris has realized that America is tired of being so sick and tired.
Fear. Division. The pandemic. Isolation. Frustration. That was our politics.
But that’s enough now.
Let’s get a turkey leg at the State Fair.
She chose Walz, the Midwestern dad who makes silly videos with his 23-year-old daughter Hope, conceived through fertility treatments. He managed to get elected to six terms as congressman from a Republican district north of the Iowa border. As governor, he was a partisan stalwart when Republicans controlled the Senate. He understands small towns getting left behind — his graduating class in Nebraska consisted of 24 graduates. (None of them went to Yale; he went to Chadron State.)
His thing is to be a good neighbor and a funny trainer.
Harris and Walz want to turn the tide.
“With this election, our nation has a precious, fleeting opportunity to put the bitterness, cynicism and divisive struggles of the past behind us, a chance to forge a new path forward – not as members of a party or faction, but as Americans,” Harris said in her nomination speech on Thursday.
The politics of fear is being directly opposed.
The switch to a campaign that can laugh is certainly a relief after the dreariness of the last eight years in Iowa. We miss the friendship of neighbors divided by politics. Walz reminds us that neighbors in small towns look out for each other. We overcome differences for the good of all. More of that, please.
That’s a big reason why Harris is now ahead of Trump in the key swing states. We want to get rid of that despondency. The economy is doing quite well. Inflation is coming down. The Federal Reserve will ease interest rates just in time for the election.
Trump is in big trouble.
Voters want to cheer for something good. When trolls mocked Gus Walz on social media, they were quickly labeled as disgusting and mean. The good in America insists on rising. I think that’s what we’re witnessing right now. We’re seeing a nation that wants to throw off the heavy yoke of the past few years.
I guess most Iowans think things are out of control. The moment Gus Walz stood up and shouted, “That’s my father!” was the first time I thought the Democrats could have won Iowa this time if they tried. That’s what we’ve been looking for. Something real. Something that might even be true. America is amazing in that way.
