Growing up I was raised by a single mother and as in most single parent households we struggled. I can remember walking for miles in the snow carrying groceries because we had no car or having to hide because one of my classmates was behind us in the grocery store and my mom's food stamps wouldn't tear out of the little book they used to be in. But those struggles made me who I am today; good or bad. Although I still fondly and yet sadly sometimes remember the things I missed out on by not growing up privileged. My favorite thing to do was to watch the Olympics on television. I was able to transport to another time, another place where mere mortals were transformed into almost God-like beings. Summer and winter didn't matter to me. I always dreamed of one day being in the position to compete at that level of any sport. To feel that special even for just a brief moment. But the sports I especially loved I quickly learned were the sports of rich kids. Equestrian. Fencing. Skiing. I knew growing up on free school lunches and clothes from the thrift store that I wouldn't be able to take up any of these sports and that's when I learned that we all must live within our means and with the hand we are dealt and that, unfortunately, we aren't all born with the tools necessary for greatness. Some of us have to work a little harder at it. And now as an adult I find myself yearning for yet another rich man's sport. Politics.
Unlike many young people interested in politics I have no desire for power or connections nor do I feel the need to feel superior to those around me. I, at my core, believe that politics and the democratic process were put in place to create a nation that is not only great but also free, safe, and above all the beacon of hope for the rest of the world to look towards in times of darkness. While I have no desire to ever run for public office myself I do, at times, find those individuals whom I feel represent me and share the same idea for the direction our country should be headed. And that is where is the sport begins. See, my friends, being involved in politics takes more than good intentions. It takes money. Why you ask? Well for one I challenge you to look at any Young Republican group Facebook photo album or attend any well organized Young Republican event and unless you are wearing the latest style from Southern Tide you feel, well, like that same little boy standing in line waiting for your free school lunch. And if you dare to dream to one day actually work on a campaign or even, dare I say it, work for an elected official you must first put in countless (we're talking hundreds) of volunteer hours. Now where does the real world end and volunteering begin?
In the real world we have bills. We have to eat. We have to have a place to live. We have to make sure our guinea pigs bellies are full at night. These things cost money. Now unless you are either born into money or you are lucky enough to live at home with Mommy and Daddy then you live in the real world with the rest of us or what many of us refer to as "purgatory". Desiring to work on a campaign you first must volunteer your time. Which in theory seems easy enough. That is until you factor in your multiple jobs, no gas money and a wardrobe that is less Southern Tide and more Wal Mart chic. See folks, campaigns don't want volunteers who live in the real world, they want those who live with rose colored glasses on because if campaigns truly wanted to be represented by your average working class American then they would make call it "working" instead of "volunteering" and you would be paid accordingly. The system is set up now that unless you are able to think of bills as a Destiny's Child song and not something that comes in the mail every month then you can kiss your chances of ever actually working for a politician goodbye.
Realistically I know my chances of obtaining a paid position on a State or National level political campaign are about the same as me winning an Olympic medal in fencing. It just ain't in the cards.
In the end, the road to hell is paved with good intentions and my good intentions of wanting to be a part of something bigger than myself will ultimately lead me down a path to my own hell. And that hell is having to sit back and watch those who care nothing about change and more about status get ahead in the political world while I, like every other average American, get up each day and pray that today is at least a little better than the day before until we are called home by our creator.
Politics. The world of the possible, the impossible and the vessel for change. That is, if you can afford to sit at the table.
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