A Letter to My Hometown

Dear Editor:

I was born in the hospital here in Westbrook in 1965. I went to school here, graduating in 1983. Since then, life has taken me to all sorts of places that, in my youth, I never anticipated I would get to live. My life has been enriched by people all over the world who have expanded worldview and my understanding of what it means to be one, common humanity.

A little over a year ago, I was able to move back home here to Westbrook. I have a job that allows me to live anywhere I want, and work remotely. I chose home. I chose to move back to the place that formed me and sowed seeds in my heart and mind as a child. I love my hometown, but Saturday morning, this place broke my heart a bit.

My political affiliations are not in the majority in this community. In fact, my perspectives represent a very small minority. I can respect that. We do not have to share the same opinions or ideas to be good neighbors to and for one another. At the end of last week, I think there were only four “Biden for President” signs in this town. Saturday morning, there was at least one less. Someone stole my sign. My sign was not near the street. It was set back on my property, up against my ramp and deck. Someone intentionally came up on my lawn, crossed my sidewalk, trespassed on my property and stole my sign. The only reason could be to silence my political voice.

Part of the reason that this action so disappoints me, is that such behavior does not reflect the values of this place that, in my heart, has always been home. The education that I received in my youth from really good teachers in this town taught me about the values of respect, integrity, civic responsibility, community, compassion, dignity of self and the other. Here, in this community, I learned that differences of opinion make us stronger when we work together to hear and understand each other. Here, in this community, I learned pride in country, care for the neighbor, love of those whose stories are different from my own. Here, in this community, I learned that part of what makes this country unique is the weaving together of a vast, and seemingly endless array of the diversity of the human community. Here, in this community, I learned that free speech is a fundamental cornerstone of a democratic society, and yet someone in this community thought it appropriate to take away my freedom of speech by stealing a campaign sign.

I wonder: what is someone so afraid of that they need to steal a presidential campaign sign? My vote is not going to turn this red corner of Minnesota blue. But I wonder, is someone so afraid that one or two votes might eat into their vast majority that, well, they need to intimidate, to silence that one or two? Seriously, people? That’s not what democracies do: that’s what dictators do. That’s not what people who support a freely and fairly elected president do. That’s what people who support tyrants do.

In my years living away from this community, I often heard that rural America wonders why its children grow up, move away, and rarely look back. At present, I have countless friends who live in big cities all across this country. When I posted on Facebook about the theft of my Biden sign, several friends told me that this same thing was happening in the big cities where they live. Perhaps it is nostalgia, but in my memory and in my hopes, rural America was and can be better at valuing each other and actually being community because of we have a chance of really knowing one another. Here, we can model that we do not all have be the same, to think the same, to vote the same, in order to be one community, one people who fundamentally hold dear life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.

I’m not writing this letter to persuade or change anyone’s vote, come November. But I am writing it to put into practice what this community taught me: exercise your civic responsibility. Engage in the political process. Don’t just complain about things you don’t like: strive to make things better. I’m writing this letter in the hope of reminding us who we are – a community, made up of people with different stories, different experiences, different ideas – but a community still that same – one that intentionally strives to bridge the aisle of difference and work together toward the common good. That can’t happen when we sink into petty actions against one another, like stealing the campaign signs of those whose perspectives are not our own.

In 1983, as a senior in high school here, I was the Minnesota State Voice of Democracy speech champion. Near the end of my speech, I said, “our hands that show our actions prove that to the U.S. we belong.” In some ways, those were the naïve, romantic sentiments of someone in late adolescence who had not yet experienced the complexity of the world, but I want to still believe that there is some truth in those words, that this country can rise above this abysmal time of polarization and become the beacon of hope for the world that our founding documents inspire us to be. If that is to be the case, however, we need to try reaching out and shaking the hand of someone with whom we disagree, rather than using our hands to try to eliminate a difference of opinion. When you reach out in goodwill, you might just discover a human being with whom you have a whole lot more in common than you think.

One last thing: to the person who stole my sign – I’d love to have a conversation with you – in the light of day, that is. I’d love to hear your story, learn why you think and believe as you do, and I’d love to tell you my story, too. That is, if you’d listen, if you’ll crawl out of the darkness and show your face in the light of day. Cowards sneak around and steal things at night. Citizens sit down for a cup of coffee, listen to each other, and learn from each other. Let’s not be cowards. Let’s be good citizens together who seek understanding and compromise to make our community, our country, and our world a better place. Who wants to join me for that cup of coffee or tea?

Sincerely,

Charlene Rachuy Cox, a child of this community who has come home