A cardboard box. Not an especially big box. Not the heaviest I've carried by any means but it had quite a few pieces of paper inside, judging by its heft. You may well have one matching this description in a corner somewhere.
To be allowed to carry this box was an amazing honor.
This box was packed with the dreams of a million Wisconsinites that we should have the opportunity sooner rather than later to put things right with our state.
This box was packed with thousands upon thousands of hours of work by volunteers who lost friendships, lost their weekends, lost time with their families, lost the feeling in their toes, lost money that they spent getting around to where they were needed, lost their ability to feel secure in their person when expressing their opinion in public.
This box was packed with the efforts of those who'd gone out of their way to find a petition to sign, those who cheered up circulators with a simple smile or a wave or a thumbs up, those who gave us cookies or brought hot chocolate, those who spent the time to listen to us and learn why recall is necessary.
This box was packed with the wishes of those who for whatever reason didn't get a chance to sign but wanted to.
This box was packed with the thoughts of those across the country and across the world who have been following what's been going on in Wisconsin and understand what might just be won here.
All of that doesn't fit into a box, and it never could. You can't carry one of them into the Government Accountability Board offices and not feel overwhelmed as these things come bursting out. The universe simply doesn't allow it.
I did not collect the most signatures; I did not spend the most time of anyone on the recall; I neither suffered the most nor sacrificed the most. Nonetheless, I had the opportunity to represent those who had put something into it.
So I carried a box.