I was born a defender of the underdog. There is no other explanation. The four Presidents I mention above were and are still iconic, and my love and respect and appreciation for them knows no bounds. And it goes without saying that I dearly love President Biden. Yet, when it comes to a hero-
A lot of people will tell you their favorite player is Mike Trout, their favorite movie star is George Clooney, their favorite food is pizza. I was a different kid. My favorite baseball players were Jose Cruz and Ozzie Smith, my favorite food was the Whopper, and my favorite movie star was Roger Moore.
In other words, I deviated from popular opinion. So it was as a child on a November evening when I saw the aftermath of an absolutely anti-climatic Presidential election. Reagan had simply clobbered Mondale. Earlier that year I watched VP Mondale’s acceptance speech at the DNC and decided I loved that man. He was warm and caring, open and honest, and far too authentic for a nation steeped in polyester and shoulder pads.
He would lose. Deep down I might have known that. The kids at school, in Texas, made fun of him and generally me as well for liking him. I didn’t care.
On this night, the worst of his professional life, the vanquished former VP came up to the podium and spoke these words:
My loss tonight does not in any way diminish the worth and importance of our struggle. The America we want to build is just as important tomorrow as it was yesterday. Let us continue to seek an America that is just and fair. Tonight, tonight especially I think of the poor, the unemployed, the elderly the handicapped, the helpless and the sad, and they need us more than ever tonight.
Let us fight for jobs and fairness, let us fight for these kids and make certain they have the best education that any generation ever had (applause). Let us fight for our environment and protect our air, our water and our land.
And while we must keep America strong, let's use that strength to keep the peace, to reflect our values, and to control these weapons before they destroy us all.
Other kids I suppose were into Joe Montana or Magic Johnson, or Reagan, the winner. I stuck by my guy. I wanted him to eventually go for it again, maybe when he could win in a country not so seduced by rhetoric. Of course that is not what I thought as a grade-schooler-what I thought was “Why didn’t the good guys win this?”
But I heard those words that would forever stick with me. He cared. He genuinely cared. He was not slick like Gary Hart, or charming like Bill Clinton. He was not a rise from your seat orator like JFK or Barack. (Although he was no slouch in this department.) He was pure. He had a sense of dignity. He would have been a fantastic President.
More than anything, he did it his way. He did not back down or turn his back on his values. He surely knew for some time the race was over. But his messaging was not. It lived on. In one election that saw a tremendous numerical defeat, he planted a seed in a child of love and benevolence and determination that lived on.
It lived on through the pain of 2000, through the heartbreak a young man felt watching a nation truly debase itself with the Iraq debacle. It lived on when his attempt to hold Senator Wellstone’s seat came up short for reasons i still don’t understand. It lived on when I stood up to my very own committeepersons and announced my support for the black Senator from Illinois with the funny name.
It lived on when I watched this nation walk to the edge of a democratic ledge and put a narcissist in charge. It lived on in me when I found out I had cancer. It lived on when I gave my best effort to now President Joe Biden with an IV in my arm.
It lived on.
Walter Mondale is my political hero. He taught me that the message, the movement, the long game is the thing, not just the one moment. He taught me that elections serve as mere checkpoints in a nation’s progression, not a penultimate deciding factor. What he showed me is what VP Mondale believed in, was more important than his ultimate place of power.
He believed in a kid like me from a broken home, in poverty, struggling to survive. He believed in civil rights, he believed in equality and justice, and peace. He believed in a country called America and he believed that we would eventually hear, and heed his message, even if he knew it would not be him to run the controls.
He believed someday someone who believes like he did would be President. Someday the voiceless would would be heard, the poor would be raised up, the minority would be equal and the peace would be secure.
It takes a true hero to look me in the eye and say, “Not this day, but someday.” He did not ask me to merely accept his defeat on November 6th, 1984. He asked me, he asked all of us, to take the baton of progress and run and follow our own vision, and plan our own battles, and achieve our own victories.
No Fritz did not lose that evening, he merely stopped running is all. The race never stops, and from that day on, I have been running with that political baton in my hand.
I have stumbled. I have scraped my knees. I have been bloodied and bruised, and heartbroken at various times. But all these years later my legs still churn and my grip remains.
“Tonight, tonight especially I think of the poor, the unemployed, the elderly the handicapped, the helpless and the sad, and they need us more than ever tonight.”
And I will be there to help them Mr. Vice President. Because you asked me to-
Because you meant it.
Love,
-ROC