The flight from Salt Lake City, Utah, to Washington D.C. was long. The movie was boring, and an excited teenager was eager to get out of a very confining seat. It was late July and an empty savings account, and some very helpful parents were left behind. In front of me was a week of leadership training and the opportunity to touch and see the majesty of America’s capital. I rushed to the doors of the airport eager to breathe the air of the east. The doors slid open and the air pushed me back and then took my breath away. A minute passed as I tried to figure out why my arm pits were wet from standing around. I look back now at a seventeen year old sweaty, 130 pound kid searching for a taxi, air conditioning and remember the power of a trip. I had a wonderful week and still draw upon the things taught at the conference. However three events from that journey weigh heavy on my mind and have created in me a desire to work to preserve the country I believe in.
Wednesday morning started at Pennsylvania Avenue, the white house was white and a lot smaller than it looked in pictures. Unable to go inside because of a security threat earlier that morning, I made the walk to the capitol. It seemed larger than life. Inside the rotunda the statues seemed to stand guard, while the architecture welcomed the spirit of the great western democratic thinkers. As I turned to the senate chamber I was overcome with a spirit I had never before felt. It was calm, empowering, and visionary. As I look back it was the spirit of liberty, the idea of freedom whispered so long ago by thirteen states trying to come together. I had been taught all my life that God had inspired the founding fathers, and was the true founder of this country. As I sat looking into the senate chamber I knew that God was indeed the one behind the creation of the United States of America. Inside those sacred walls I had an amazing spiritual experience. The spirit of freedom that called my ancestors to this land, was working on me.
As the last light of morning gave way to the heat of noon I made my way across the street toward the office of Orin Hatch. For the past few weeks I had studied parts of the current farm bill and had scheduled an appointment with my senator to discuss it. I don’t recall the details of what we talked about but I did talk. He was a good politician, polite, and considerate of my feedback. I am not sure my lobbying had much effect but it was certainly a great experience. I have a voice and he heard it that day. As I prepared to leave he thanked me for the visit and complemented me for already being involved in the process. Of the visit his desk left the greatest impression, I can still picture it perfectly in my mind today. How the light of the window shown on it, and the papers neatly arranged. The man behind that desk had power to write amendments to a bill that was important to me. I had made sure he heard my voice, I felt strong as I left his office.
After the experience in the capitol building and my appointment with Senator Hatch I was a few clouds higher than number nine. I walked down the hall with an amazing gratitude and respect for our government. Then two men, one I recognized as a congressman, kicked me off the cloud. They were discussing of all things the farm bill as they walked in front of me, the congressman made one remark I will never forget, “Fuck the farmers all a bunch of hill Billy assholes”. Even in writing it seventeen years later it still crushes me. Not so much his fillings toward farmers but his disrespect for where he was and who he was. Did he not fill the spirit I had felt in the capital? Did he not realize he was a representative of men and women who eat, who fight, and who die for liberty? Was he so disconnected with reality washed up in ideology? Congressmen are to be educated and wise, my parents taught me only the uneducated and fools speak in such a way. Only a fool would disrespect the greatness of a nation with such language. To curse is human but a nation established by God deserves better of the Stewarts in her halls. It was the disrespect toward the people of America that crushed the high spirits of a young man that day. It is what drives me to work to get rid of those people in Washington today.
On Friday evening of my trip I sat near the Jefferson memorial on the banks of the Potomac River. After an afternoon of touring the monuments I was covered in sweat, hot, and tired. I looked at the cool waters and longed to go for a swim. Knowledge of the pollution kept me on the bank yearning for the clean rivers of my Rocky Mountain home. When the founding fathers would have pondered at the river it was clean, and inviting. The problem with the Potomac and Washington is not that the river is bad or the water no good. It is what we have put in her that has polluted and made her unsafe. There is no nation greater than ours, no constitution more empowering to people than ours. The spirit of Washington is strong and alive; we just need to do some janitorial work on the trash in the hall. Saturday evening brought the protective Wasatch peaks of my beloved mountain home. More than ever I look at Mt. Timpanogos and remember the need to speak loud enough the Potomac can hear me. Just need to figure out how to not curse when I do.
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