| The Saturday morning before November 4th, 2008, I sat in a restaurant among nearly 100 anxious Democratic Party loyalists from the Alleghany County area. The seemingly never-ending 2008 election was finally nearing its conclusion and everybody in the room knew it. The mood that morning could best be described as a peculiar mix of uncertain terror and unbridled excitement.
I surveyed the room. It was earlier in the morning than most of the individuals packed into the restaurant would have preferred (myself included), which was clearly conveyed on their exhausted faces. However, one face in the room, more so than any other, seemed immune to fatigue. The face was Sen. Creigh Deeds'.
From the moment Creigh Deeds walked through the doors, the room belonged to him. As he moved through the crowd, he shook hands, fielded questions, and expertly engaged himself in conversation with every attendee that he encountered as though they were among his oldest friends (of course, given Creigh's personal background in the Alleghany Highlands, it's quite possible that they were). I've seen good politicians "work a room" before, but this was different.
While observing Creigh that morning, I didn't get the sense that I was watching a politician at "work." I would liken what I saw more to an accomplished pianist playing a difficult composition. The pianist's actions may be methodical, and his skill may be the result of years of practice, but there is undeniable sincerity in his performance. It's the kind of sincerity that can only come from a genuine passion for something. And there's no doubt that Creigh is passionate about public service. |
| This wasn't the first time I had seen him in his element. On the Saturday before the 2006 midterm elections in Virginia, I was up before the sun getting ready for what promised to be an exhaustive day of campaigning throughout Southwest Virginia. I had been invited to tag along on the "Southwest Swing" with Creigh and his son, Gus.
Creigh did not speak at any of the events that day, but his presence wasn't lost on anybody. No matter where we were that day, people seemed eager to speak with Creigh, and he seemed every bit as eager to speak with them. In addition to commanding a great deal of respect from the public, he is also revered by his political colleagues.
At one event, Senator Jim Webb (who, at the time, was Senatorial candidate Jim Webb) interrupted his own speech and pointed out into the audience. "My friend, Creigh Deeds, is here," he said. The crowd applauded. Webb continued, "Creigh has done a lot for our campaign. I wish I had his energy. He's always at least 6 cups of coffee ahead of me." If you've ever seen Creigh Deeds in action, you know exactly what Senator Webb was saying. I certainly did by the end of that long day of campaigning through Southwest Virginia.
At the last campaign event of the day, and then on the drive home, Creigh was only showing minimal evidence of exhaustion. I, on the other hand, looked and felt like death warmed over. But nowhere is Creigh's passion and energy more obvious than in his speeches.
At the Virginia State Democratic Convention last summer, after Creigh had spoken, I overheard one of my fellow Sixth District delegates say, "Intensity-wise, most politicians' speeches have some highs and some lows; Creigh's speeches are all highs." Creigh speaks at an above average volume, and his words are usually accompanied by the feverish gesturing of his hands. Because of Creigh's naturally personable and disarming demeanor, though, his exuberance is not a detriment; it's a benefit. It demonstrates the kind of enthusiasm that we should demand from our political leaders.
Being from Bath County, where Creigh's early political career has been especially well preserved for posterity in the form of personal anecdotes, I've been fortunate enough to hear many first-hand accounts of Creigh's earliest campaigns, first for Commonwealth's Attorney, and then for the House of Delegates.
At one particular meeting of the Bath County Democratic Committee, held at the Country Café (a Bath County landmark), Creigh sat at a table surrounded by a small group of 11 or so Bath County Democrats. At one point, one of the older women in attendance looked at Creigh said, "I remember when you ran for the House of Delegates. I can still see you walking all the way up the endless driveway to my house!" Creigh smiled and said, in a distinctly modest tone, "Well, that was quite some time ago. I'm not as young as I used to be."
Contrary to Creigh's implication, though, time has done nothing to diminish him. Time has not deprived him of the ability to give barnburner speeches from the stump or put in backbreaking days on the campaign trail, nor has time weakened the strength of his convictions or his resolve. Most importantly, though, Creigh has not forgotten over the years that politics, at its most fundamental level, is about people.
Despite the fact that his name has become more widely known, that he continues to amass prestige, and that the opportunities available to him are larger than ever before, Creigh Deeds is still concerned only with being a strong, knowledgeable, and pragmatic advocate for the people he represents, many of whom desperately need such an advocate. For this reason, I will be enthusiastically casting my vote for Creigh in tomorrow's primary.
This has probably not been a typical endorsement, but I also did not intend for it to be. I did not analyze voting records or conduct comprehensive issue position comparisons. I didn't really need to. Kenton Ngo, in his endorsement of Brian Moran here at New Dominion Project, said it best when he said, "At the end of the day, it comes down to what my heart says."
Tomorrow, I will have the privilege of voting for a person who I know and respect, and who I trust to execute the office for which he's running in a manner never inconsistent with his deeply-held principles or his compassion. |
