We're the generation that killed cable t.v., and mayonnaise, and (apparently) Hooters, too. We're the Mr. Rogers-generation; the clean up, clean up, everybody do your share, kids; the ones who grew up with an entire world at our fingertips; so overwhelmed by data, information and speed that we've learned to spot an honest narrator and a compelling story from 1,000 yards out; so numb to bullshit that our nose for real is weirdly well-tuned.
And, let us tell you, Stacey's story is a good one. And a real one.
When she was small, Stacey’s family had one car; so, every morning her Dad would catch a ride to work, leaving the car with his wife and kids. It wasn’t convenient, or particularly ideal, but it worked just fine on most days. The thing was, Mr. Abrams often opted to take on a second shift, forfeiting his ride home for the night, in order to bring home just a little more for his family. On those long, tiresome days, he would call his wife, let her know that he was headed home and either hitch-hike, or on those headlight-less nights: walk the long, seaside journey home.
One night, Mama Abrams had that feeling only women-who-love can feel; he had called, like he was supposed to, but that didn’t sooth the icky, cloudy feeling. She packed up the kids and drove into the stormy night to find him.
And find him they did.
Cold, wet to the bone, missing his one and only coat; but perfectly fine. They sighed a collective breath of relief.
“Where is your coat?”
Stacey jokes now that she and her sister held their breath in horror: losing a sock was a seriously punishable offense, how could he possibly survive their mother’s reaction to his lost coat?
“I gave it away.”
Imagine the silence in that car; the suspense in waiting for their mother’s head to actually, and immediately explode. Mrs. Abrams smiled, cranked the heat and turned the car towards home.
“Daddy, why would you give away your only coat?” asks Stacey’s stunned sister.
“I came across a homeless man on the beach tonight. He was alone. I knew when I left him, he’d still be alone. I gave him my coat because I knew you were coming for me.”
He knew they were coming, and that gave him the freedom to help someone else.
Millennials for Abrams is committed to telling Stacey’s stories, not just because they’re good, or they’re true – both things that they are—but because they speak to the core values of our candidate. Empathy, Kindness, Commitment to Fellow Man, Sacrifice for What We Know in Our Hearts is Right.
Our plan for advocacy is simple: keep telling stories. Illustrate the brilliance, and humanity of our candidate by sharing intimate, real narratives that have informed each and every one of her policies and platform. She’s does the hard part, all we have to do is tell stories.