Excavate [Vasco Izar's Speech]
Jan 16, 2019 0:52:53 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2019 0:52:53 GMT -5
They put up a set of old wooden soap boxes at the edge of the cornfield – Alfer and Deval hauled some from ripred knows where – while Emma found some red curtain to add as a trim along the edges, to make it look like a proper little stage. We spread word in the fields, amongst each other, under a hot sun and in the starlit night.
It’s mostly Izars that show. Faces scattered around the dusty flats – good people, humble people. Dark skin in overalls and dreams tucked back behind them, a single glance from between the yellowed stalks reminded me why I’m about to do this. Hard working folk that did the best they could, each and every day, for far too little. Emma pushed forward and stepped out with YaniMarie in her arms to let folks know I was going to speak.
And I took a deep breath, thinking about how there’s some moments in your life you aren’t a hundred percent sure of what you’re doing. But there’s a set of prayer beads in my pocket, and a voice in the back of my head told me that it’s time to take my shot – not for me, but for them.
“Let me start by saying thank you for being here today to hear what I have to say. Part of me thinks you just wanted the moonshine Sampson promised but you’ll have to wait until after the speech for that, I’m sorry to say amigos.”
“I never thought I’d be the type of man for politics. I’m a farmer, sure as the rest of you. Pulled corn, cotton, soy beans, you name it. I’ve seen forty some-odd summers – the hill over there saw my first shooting star, and the corn stalks behind me, had my first kiss. I got married in that field, taught my son to tie his shoes along the creek’s edge.”
“And I saw the cold of the winters, the times when we were so hungry we made mustard sandwiches – a luxury, eh? The whippings folks got for being too out of line. Hot heads that thought they could solve things with quick solutions and hollow answers. All the while I was busy trying to raise my family, be good to my wife – be the type of man that I thought was good, for me, for my family.”
“Except I saw the men who took to morphling to escape their pain. That folks with big houses closed silos and granaries because it was too expensive to keep open, not thinking about the men and women out of work. Or that my daughter Sofia has the same math textbook I had when I was a boy at the schoolhouse.”
“I’m not here to tell you I can fix all of these things. No one person could wave away all that needs fixing. The thing is, it’s not that the answers haven’t worked. Our leaders have failed us. We’ve forgotten about how powerful we are together.”
I paused, and listened to the wind rustle the leaves.
“I lost my daughter Raquel some five years ago. I think how she would keep me on the straight and narrow – just tell me the truth, she’d say. And I thought a lot about that – to tell the truth.”
“No one does it alone. We put her in the ground and it was you – my family, my friends, this place – that saved me. I was reminded how by coming together, I was made whole. That in tough times, living for another person is more powerful than living for yourself.”
“This campaign isn’t about me, not by a long shot. It’s about you – about how much I love this place. Someone a lot smarter than me taught me, ‘when you love something, you don’t threaten to tear it down or break it apart. You fight for it. You take care of it. You put it first.’ As your next mayor, I will fight for all of you, not just the few.”
“I ask for your vote for Mayor – and know that I’m a man of my word. I fight for what I love, and I love district eleven. I won’t rest fighting for all of you. Thank you.”
I stepped down from the box to kiss Emma on the cheek, and hoisted Yani onto my shoulders. I joined in the 'Sí se puede' chant that erupted, and smiled. It was time to get to work.
It’s mostly Izars that show. Faces scattered around the dusty flats – good people, humble people. Dark skin in overalls and dreams tucked back behind them, a single glance from between the yellowed stalks reminded me why I’m about to do this. Hard working folk that did the best they could, each and every day, for far too little. Emma pushed forward and stepped out with YaniMarie in her arms to let folks know I was going to speak.
And I took a deep breath, thinking about how there’s some moments in your life you aren’t a hundred percent sure of what you’re doing. But there’s a set of prayer beads in my pocket, and a voice in the back of my head told me that it’s time to take my shot – not for me, but for them.
“Let me start by saying thank you for being here today to hear what I have to say. Part of me thinks you just wanted the moonshine Sampson promised but you’ll have to wait until after the speech for that, I’m sorry to say amigos.”
“I never thought I’d be the type of man for politics. I’m a farmer, sure as the rest of you. Pulled corn, cotton, soy beans, you name it. I’ve seen forty some-odd summers – the hill over there saw my first shooting star, and the corn stalks behind me, had my first kiss. I got married in that field, taught my son to tie his shoes along the creek’s edge.”
“And I saw the cold of the winters, the times when we were so hungry we made mustard sandwiches – a luxury, eh? The whippings folks got for being too out of line. Hot heads that thought they could solve things with quick solutions and hollow answers. All the while I was busy trying to raise my family, be good to my wife – be the type of man that I thought was good, for me, for my family.”
“Except I saw the men who took to morphling to escape their pain. That folks with big houses closed silos and granaries because it was too expensive to keep open, not thinking about the men and women out of work. Or that my daughter Sofia has the same math textbook I had when I was a boy at the schoolhouse.”
“I’m not here to tell you I can fix all of these things. No one person could wave away all that needs fixing. The thing is, it’s not that the answers haven’t worked. Our leaders have failed us. We’ve forgotten about how powerful we are together.”
I paused, and listened to the wind rustle the leaves.
“I lost my daughter Raquel some five years ago. I think how she would keep me on the straight and narrow – just tell me the truth, she’d say. And I thought a lot about that – to tell the truth.”
“No one does it alone. We put her in the ground and it was you – my family, my friends, this place – that saved me. I was reminded how by coming together, I was made whole. That in tough times, living for another person is more powerful than living for yourself.”
“This campaign isn’t about me, not by a long shot. It’s about you – about how much I love this place. Someone a lot smarter than me taught me, ‘when you love something, you don’t threaten to tear it down or break it apart. You fight for it. You take care of it. You put it first.’ As your next mayor, I will fight for all of you, not just the few.”
“I ask for your vote for Mayor – and know that I’m a man of my word. I fight for what I love, and I love district eleven. I won’t rest fighting for all of you. Thank you.”
I stepped down from the box to kiss Emma on the cheek, and hoisted Yani onto my shoulders. I joined in the 'Sí se puede' chant that erupted, and smiled. It was time to get to work.
