Abigail Is Whispering. And Listening.

I am a post bra-burning, ERA-affirming, #MeToo-era female. On my better days, I am badass, bodacious, and – when necessary –bitchy. I will go toe-to-toe with any male (or female, for that matter,); waking up 90 minutes earlier to ensure my makeup, attire, and attitude are impeccable.

But Abigail Adams I am not. Not even close.

I cannot imagine what this wise, strong, opinionated, loving wife felt as she advised her husband from afar as he, along with other men, forged the foundation of our country.

Abigail Adams could not vote or overtly fight in the Revolution, but she absolutely personified the definition of what it means to bring home the bacon and fry it up in the pan. And she absolutely never let John Adams forget he was a man – while also taking him to task on his testosterone-fueled shortcomings. I can relate.

But I digress.

Yesterday, I provided the optics of a loving wife as my husband Lorenzo was sworn into office as a Representative of the Arizona House of Representatives.

All of these adjectives are true.

I am loving. I am Lorenzo’s wife. But I am so much more.

I am a chief-level officer of a $300 national non-profit organization. I am a former principal of a 25-year consultancy for national and international non-profit organizations. I am a mother. Widow. Stepmom. Cancer survivor. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Survivor. Unofficial advisor to my husband’s campaign and his sole transition committee. 

I am the fiercest defender and strongest advocate you will find on behalf of my husband as he begins his next phase of public service. And I am about to board another flight that is a part of my existence as a road-warrior, unable to be present as my husband finds his footing as a freshman legislator in the Arizona House of Representatives.

So it is in this spirit, along with Abigail’s voice whispering in my ear, that I pen this letter to my husband, allowing you to read along.

Dear Lorenzo,

I have watched you in times of victory. And I have watched you in times of defeat. Mostly, I have watched you in private moments, when the words of your mouth and the reactions of the moment will not be judged by the public-at-large.

Your recent election to the Arizona House of Representatives is changing this reality.

It is a change I both relish and resist.

Although comparatively small, the stage of statewide public service that you now find yourself upon is larger than what you have known. And the players on this stage are less scrupled and more ruthless than what you have experienced.

Your heart is pure, and your desire to serve your community is unquestioned. But this is different than the street smarts you learned growing up in the barrio of south side Tucson.

The rules of the street you now find yourself walking are different than the cunning or the conniving of the streets of your youth. This is why I feel the need to write to you, asking you to be both wise and naïve in the paths that are before you.

As you discover what it means to serve the needs of the people in our legislative district and our state, please make it a priority to put people over politics. When it comes to making a living and making a life, voters will not care whether the idea comes from the Democratic or Republican Caucus. They will value whether it makes a difference in their own family or community. And they will vote accordingly.

People are more important than policy or politics. The stories of real people trump the facts of statistics and political stock. They are counting on you to do the right thing for them – even when no one else is looking or will know. So am I.

Speaking of which, your soul is worth more than your political stock. Positions of power and influence come and go. Your ability to be a decent, principled human being is determined by every decision – large or small – you make. Sift everything through this filter and you will be able to hold your head high, and maintain your soul, regardless of your political stature.

Please always remember that I first loved you when you were a down-on-your-luck, poor, voiceless person. It was this person I heard. Respected. Believed in. Bet on. If you remain true to this person I risked everything for, you will accomplish more for the voiceless and vulnerable than I could have anticipated or imagined.

Finally, remember that when this opportunity – however short- or long-lived it may be – is done, we will find ourselves alone; rocking in our rocking chairs, relishing what is within our immediate reach. Make it count. Family. Faith. Friendship. Fidelity to country – to ourselves.

Today, be the person I will choose to be rocking with. Remembering with. Be the person today I will want to sit with, rock with, and remember with thirty years from now.

As you make the most of this new opportunity, I ask you to also remember the enormity of the responsibility you have inherited. If not for my sake, for the sake of our grandchildren and great-grandchildren that are to come.

Legacy is counting on you. So am I. And Abigail is listening to your response.