Democrats Have Needed Someone Like Tim Walz for Decades

Sometimes on our farm a nice car would roll up the gravel driveway and a man in a slick suit would get out. He would either be trying to sell us something overpriced that we’d never buy, because of our limited means and common sense, or trying to buy something we’d never sell — namely land, about which my grandfather said, “You don’t get rid of it, because they don’t make any more of it.”

This man would shake our hands before driving off.

“Better count your fingers,” Grandpa Arnie would tell us and laugh.

I’ve shared the story before to explain the gulf I’ve long felt between the essence of the rural white working poor who raised me — honest, flawed people who would welcome just about anyone into our home but a liar — and the red-hatted-fool avatar they’ve been assigned in national discourse.