I want to tell you a story...

My dad dropped me off at the airport for a job I had doing advance for the Barack Obama campaign in Michigan.  He had a shirt made for me that day with an Obama slogan he loved; “Love Your Mama, Vote Obama”, and told the skycap why I was going to Detroit. “My daughter’s working for Barack Obama!” he exclaimed.

My dad, who was a man of a million nicknames such as the Doc, Big T, and Dockie, didn’t have to say a thing – you could see the pride twinkling in his eyes.  At his funeral mass, with almost 1000 attendees, our Priest and longtime friend, talked about things my dad loved about each of us. For me, Father Matt said, “Tony was so proud. He would say, “Stacy…she works for Barack Obama!” to everyone.  My passion for politics and specifically, Senator Obama, ignited my father’s interest as well. 

About 5 months ago, right after he purchased his brand new sports car, my dad called me and told me to meet him in his driveway.  He pulled into the driveway and I burst out laughing. My dad had “Dockie for Barackie” stickers custom made.  At a rally in Iowa, some people were asking me what that slogan meant. I explained it was my dad’s nickname and he gave Barack a similar nickname. At the time I was embarrassed and wanted to take it off. I am glad I didn’t.  My dad never owned a political t-shirt, campaign button, or bumper sticker.  He told me how empowered he felt driving to work with that sticker on his car.  He told me how strong it made him feel to finally be able to proudly support a political candidate. 

My dad wasn’t always on the same side of me as politics.  Sometimes, he didn’t even vote.  But he always loved to talk about politics. He loved Tim Russert. When Mr. Russert died of a heart attack, I was in Michigan working on the campaign.  The Doc loved that Tim Russert worked his way up and seemed to be more about what you know, not who you know.  He read me lines from his books over the phone.  My dad cried and promised me we would watch Meet the Press together when I got back.  He loved Obama for similar reasons, being that your value is more about what you do for others, not about who you are.  Obama’s commitment to social justice and philanthropy really called to my father.  

We never watched Meet the Press together.  The day after I got back from doing advance in Michigan, my dad had a massive heart attack and died.  My dad never saw my pictures or any evidence of the work I did except from the stories I told him and my phone calls from the campaign trail. 

The next week, I took on another advance job in Independence, Missouri, but was hesitant at doing so because I wasn’t sure if I would be able to focus on work the way I wanted to. It ended up being the greatest distraction.  I was told at the event that Senator Obama heard about my dad and what I’d been doing for the campaign and wanted to have his picture taken with me.  I was ecstatic.

I assumed would be a 2 second photo opportunity turned into a lengthy, heartfelt discussion with the Senator.  He offered his condolences, gave me a hug, and then wanted to know everything that happened with my dad.  Senator Obama wondered why this seemed to be happening to people he was connected to, like Tim Russert.  I explained about my dad’s support of Barack Obama, and it made the Senator laugh.  

My dad couldn’t wait for me to meet Obama, and after every event, he wanted to know if it had finally happened.  I told Senator Obama I wished my dad could see us then, to which the Senator replied, “I’m pretty sure he’s watching us right now.”

It was more than just a photo opportunity.  It was a genuine conversation with a man who truly cared about the people around him.  He could have easily gotten by without noticing or taking the time to address what happened in my life, but instead he took the few spare minutes he had to offer his condolences.  It meant the world to me, and I have no doubt that my father was watching, as proud as ever.