“I welled up,” she said.
I asked her when. And why?
“The parallels between knocking on doors and answering letters,” she said. “This idea that first we’re going to ask something of you, and then you’re going to ask something of us.”
She said that part cut deep. “That he draws that connection on his own. We were a bunch of young people who had never worked in government. We were given the gift of his signature and trusted to know what we were doing. And we were winging it to some extent, just watching what he did and mirroring those values without hearing him expound on them. We only had the behavior to watch. Not some process document. So then hearing the ‘why’ behind it and hoping that the whys that were implied and the ones we implemented more broadly were not so off base.
“Treating empathy as a starting point,” she said. “Not letting empathy be the end game. His take on the idea that our hearts were in the right place. And the idea of that being something worthy of being proud of in and of itself.”
I told her I still wished she had read her letter to him or that at least she had given it to him.
“Oh, he doesn’t need that,” she said.
Dear President Obama,
Toward the end of my time in college, when I had no plan and no pull in any direction, my mother sent me Kurt Vonnegut’s book “A Man Without a Country” with a note in it that said ‘You and your generation have a lot of fixing up work to do!’ I felt totally at a loss as to how I or even my generation could live up to that kind of task, and I thought that was such a classic mom move to put such an impossible ball in my court.
A few months later, I found myself walking down long New Hampshire driveways to interrupt family meals, first on hot days and later on snowy ones. As I walked by myself, I would repeat a few lines in my best imitation of your voice, which is a horrible imitation but made me laugh to myself and also somehow fortified me. I dreaded every unwelcome interaction, beginning with ‘the primary isn’t for 8 months’ and moving into ‘you’ve already been here too many times,’ but I was able to keep going because I felt like I was part of a broader team, a team you understood, needed, and cared about, and a team that made me better than I had been without them. The people who came together for you in New Hampshire and in every state I went on to see made me so much better and stronger, and the road you sent me down taught me, among other things, just how emboldening a clipboard can be.
When your early state organizers fanned out for Super Tuesday and the later primaries, I found myself feeling flanked by your organization even when there were no other organizers in sight. When I stood on a garbage can at Delaware State University to let everyone lined up know there was no more room to see Michelle Obama but I really needed them to write down their contact information and sign up for canvassing shifts, I was able to draw on courage I didn’t have but had seen in a Merrimack mom who, on a very rainy Saturday 6 months prior, had put garbage bags over herself and her son so they could spend the day canvassing their neighborhood. She had told me “there’s always a reason not to,” and she had canvassed every Saturday between that one and the New Hampshire primary. When I felt out of my depth speaking from a pulpit in Akron about the Ohio primary, and later felt like the ultimate enemy of fun while pleading with a group of Alphas hosting a Ted Kennedy speech to stop letting all the beautiful women circumvent the sign-in process, I knew I could do whatever needed to be done because kids like me were in over their heads for you in places all across America, and we owed it to one another to give it our all.
I was just one of many, but that was kind of the wonderful part. Together, we could really do something that mattered. One time before one of my mom’s brain surgeries, you called her to wish her luck, and you told her a lie—you told her I was one of the best you had in the field. That wasn’t true by a longshot, but man did it mean a lot to her. Thanks for telling her that, and thanks for building a movement that really wasn’t about who was the best but rather what we were together. There were these pink and blue-haired teenagers who joined me to make phone calls one afternoon in Fond Du Lac, Wisconsin—they didn’t get through many calls, in fact I have to admit they ended up making posters (that lowest of volunteer tasks), but their presence reminded me what I was part of on a day when I needed it. They kept me going, like so many other people along the way.
When I interviewed the person who most recently started in my office, which of course is your office, she told me a familiar story I get the feeling a lot of people have told over the years since you first declared your candidacy. She described the experience of working on the 2012 convention, and the reasons it had felt right for her rang so true for me and should make you feel so proud. She said that it wasn’t the work itself that made the job fulfilling, but rather working alongside the people who came together around your presidency and your campaign—people who felt passionate about what they were working toward and who wanted to play a part in making things better. I felt so lucky to know exactly what she meant.
Thank you for letting me have that experience too, and for letting me make so many people a part of it. Thank you for connecting with so many of us and connecting us with one another, and thank you for reconnecting me with our country and its promise. And most of all, thank you for making me and so many others like me feel like we could really be a part of the fixing up work my mom demanded of us.
Sincerely,
Fiona Reeves
Tuesday, November 29th, 2016
Dear President Obama,
Hello! My name is Zoe Ruff. I am thirteen years old, and I live in Bath, Maine. I wrote you this poem to show you that people care about this election. I think, in the end, it all comes down to pride. Whether someone voting for Donald Trump or for Hillary Clinton, or for someone else, how you take the results is as vital as the results themselves. As an extremely opinionated liberal myself, I believe the citizens of America should be proud. Not that we elected Donald J. Trump into the White House, but that we got to live under the name Obama. That, in and of itself, is an honor. You have taught love and kindness to this country, and that’s not something our future president can take away from us. We can make it through the next four years if we can keep our heads up, and not let anyone tell us we should act one way, believe in a certain god, or be threatened because of color. Because if we do, he’s really won. And we cannot let anyone as afraid as him win. We have gained too much to go back now.
I wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for my home, and more. You have been honest, kind, and smart as our leader, and I couldn’t be prouder to be American.
Yours Sincerely,
Zoe Ruff
Age 13
Grade 8
ELECTION RESULTS
An Abecedarian
A shuffle of slippers awakes me. I arise from my
bed. Mom looks at me through tearstained cheeks. “Honey, she lost.
Clinton lost.” I squeeze my eyes shut. I can’t even pretend to suppress the
dry sob that
echoes in my throat. Someone
fear-driven will be the head of this
glorious nation, my
home country. How could we have done this?
I convince myself to get up. The days are now numbered until
January 20th, that dreaded day when our true leader is
kicked out, no
longer in the position to
make our country the place we
need it to be. Right now,
only Obama can make me feel better, so I
press the Home button on my iPad to watch his speeches.
Quiet tears leak down my face, a whispered
reminder: my Mexican, Asian, and Muslim friends may
soon be leaving me, all because of
Trump, who can’t even
begin to
understand the rest of the world’s point of
view. I thought I
would be angry. Instead, I’m sad that he’s brainwashed America with his
xenophobia-ridden lies. I turn back to Obama,
yearning for everything and nothing at the same time. I tell myself,
“Zoe. We can get through this.”
—ZOE RUFF
This is an abecedarian. What makes an abecedarian special is that the first letter of each line follows the alphabet.
BARACK OBAMA
May 31, 2017
Ms. Zoe Ruff
Bath, Maine
Dear Zoe:
Thank you for writing to me and for sharing your thoughtful poem. In the letters I receive from young people like you, I see the creativity and patriotism of your generation, and in particular, your reflections on the election and your outlook for the future give me tremendous hope for what lies ahead.
I know it sometimes seems like for every two steps forward, we take one step back. But remember that the course our country takes from here will be charted by engaged citizens like you who step forward and speak out for what they believe in. And I’m confident that as long as you stay focused on your education, set your sights high, and seek out new challenges, you can help shape a brighter future and effect positive change in your community and in the lives of those around you.
Thank you, again, for your kind note. Know that I’m rooting for you in all you do, and I wish you the very best.
Your friend,
Barack Obama
White House
1600 Pennsylvania Ave NW,
Washington, DC 20500
Dear President Obama I know we don’t want Donald Trump to be president there is one reason I don’t want him to be president because he hates Muslims and I am a Muslim
from: a kid in the United States
Your my favorite president
Im 8 years old Im in 4th grade
From: Jamie Snyder
Submitted: 1/12/2017 11:24 PM EST
Address: Los Angeles, California
Mr. President and Mrs. Obama, I am currently VERY pregnant with my second child (and first girl). My husband and I were thrilled to find out that her scheduled due date would be on what we thought would be HRC’s historical Inauguration Day. We quickly became distraught knowing that she is now due to come into the world on the day that Trump takes office. After speaking truthfully with my angel of an OB, she rescheduled the c-section to happen on Thursday, January 19th. So my sweet girl will be born on the last day of your amazing presidency! The Snyder Family has the utmost admiration and respect for you both, and we hope to become a fraction of the superb parents you have been to your beautiful and brilliant girls. We thank you for your service and unwavering dedication to our country, and we will miss you dearly. We are excited to think that our daughter will be a small reminder of your legacy. Thank you for everything. Jamie Snyder
BARACK OBAMA
June 14, 2017
Mrs. Jamie Snyder
Los Angeles, California
Dear Jamie:
I read the email you sent just a few days before the birth of your daughter, and I wanted to congratulate you and your husband and let you know how moved I was by your message. Your love for and pride in your children is abundantly clear—a feeling I know quite well—and your kind words meant a great deal to Michelle and me. We hope your family has been able to enjoy some precious time together these last few months.
I know that now remains a time of great uncertainty for many. But I’m confident that so long as parents like you and your husband continue striving to instill in their children the same values, selflessness, and sense of common purpose that came through in your email, the future will be bright. As your son and daughter continue to learn and grow, know that Michelle and I wish the very best for all of you.
Thank you, again—for everything.
Sincerely,
Barack Obama
7:44 am
15 Dec 2016
Marietta, GA
Dear President Obama,
I’m writing this at the proverbial kitchen table, after sending my two boys (13, 16 y.o.) off to school. I haven’t written a letter to a president for 40 years, since I was 7 years old and living in Alabama. I wrote to Jimmy Carter then, excited that a man my parents had taken me to visit on the campaign trail was in the White House. He seemed so kind and my little-girl self had so many important things to share with him. And miracle of miracles, he wrote me back. Maybe that made me less cynical* over the years—or a lifelong Democrat,** which got hard in a state like Alabama. I’m picking up a pen to write another president—you—because I’m profoundly thankful for your service to our country and I felt it was important for you to know (and for me to say in writing) what good your presidency did in the lives of just one family living in Marietta, Georgia.
*about government and the good it can represent
**#proud
When you were first running for office, in 2008, my husband was laid off, with his whole department, from CNN. This was in the spring and we had no idea that the whole economy was tanking. I was working as a teacher (and still do—college) and he got unemployment, which was thankfully extended for almost a year. It was scary—those lean times, but your wit and presidency and your personal kindness and decency made us know that times would get better. We were able to put our youngest son in free pre-k, economize, and keep our house (we always paid the mortgage first). My husband eventually got a job, until the company folded, went on unemployment again (thankfully that safety net was still there). Finally, he got a good job in 2011, and has worked ever since. Your steady leadership through the recession gave us hope (not just a slogan to us!) and I was thankful every day that my boys grew up with you in the White House,* with you as the model of a president. Our family is in a much better place than it was when you took office—two good jobs, a nest egg** for retirement, and kids who have known a president with a good heart and a work ethic and vision that made their lives better. To say that dealing with such push-back (from Congress) wasn’t easy is, I’m sure, an understatement, but we’ve all felt that you’ve put the people first and done tangible things to make our lives better. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
*and Michelle too!
**your steady economic policies made this happen
[teardrop on the page] my actual tears (of gratitude)
I’m not sure I can love two presidents as much as I love you and Jimmy Carter, but I hope all who follow can do as much good as you have.
Respectfully,
Lynn Murray Luxemburger
BARACK OBAMA
June 19, 2017
Ms. Lynn Murray Luxemburger
Marietta, Georgia
Dear Lynn:
Thank you for sitting down and taking the time to write me a note after sending your two boys off to school this past December. I read it on the final night of my Presidency and just wanted to let you know how much your story moved me.
It’s folks like you and your husband who were on my mind every single day that I was President. You’re right that “hope” is more than just a slogan, but rather what got so many through such difficult times. It certainly kept me going, and knowing our actions helped so many hardworking families like yours means so much. I’m glad to hear things are looking up.
From my family to yours, thank you—for everything. You have our very best wishes.
Sincerely,
Barack Obama
12–05–2016
Dear President Obama,
I owe you an apology.
There is no questions that we are at different places on the political spectrum. T
here few things that we agree on when it comes to policy and the direction of our government.
Here’s where I went wrong. I let my disagreements with you taint the way I viewed you as a person. I held you in contempt and shared my poor opinion of you.
But that was wrong, and unchristian. As the years have gone bye I have taken a closer look. My opinion was way off. We still disagree on a vast number of things. But you, sir, are a patriot. I have come to admire you as a man of principle, a man with a good heart, a man with a tremendous sense of humor, a family man, a man of faith and a man who loves this country. I have seen and read about how you treat our military and the secret service with respect. I have seen your genuine humility (as much as one can see in a politician).
I do strongly agree with your openness to Cuba. I applaude your cancer initiative. So we can agree on some things.
You will never meet me. You probably won’t ever even see this letter. But I judged you wrongly and harshly. My faith and my mother raised me to admit when I am wrong and make amends to the person I’ve offended. So I thought this the best way to attempt that; a handwritten apology.
So there it is. I want to thank you. Thank you for your examples of fatherhood, as a husband and a man. Thank you, Mr. President, for your service to this great country.
I pray that God may bless you and your family always and in all ways.
Sincerely,
Patrick J. O’Connor
Akron, OH
Hope is a thing with feathers.
E. DICKINSON
Dear Mr. President,
Borders seem to be all the rage these days, mostly strengthening and reinforcing them. It has been a gift of my life to live it across borders. I am a white man married to a black woman for 26 years. We live in a small town in far northern NY, Canton. My wife, Dr. Sheryl Scales, teaches Literacy in The School of Education at SUNY Potsdam. My life drifts between the two worlds of Hillary and Trump; Sheryl’s circle of academia, and the local small town friends and acquaintances who are the perfect microcosm of Trump voters. Needless to say living across that border has caused me more than a little difficulty in recent days, sometimes feeling more like a curse than a gift.
To Obama Page 32