Sinclair to Senate: We’re in the Home Stretch
The old Sinclair station on Broadway has seen Cass County change around it.
Businesses came and left. Families grew. Some stayed. New residents arrived. Storefronts shifted. The community adapted. That makes it a fitting place for a political headquarters – and we love being here! It reminds us of where we came from and the values we share while we work to move forward.
Every afternoon (Wednesday through Sunday), the garage door rattles open, and the real work of grassroots politics resumes, far from the notice of Fox News, CNN, or C-SPAN.
Someone comes in for a yard sign. Someone sits down with a stack of envelopes to hand address, because we want our neighbors to know that this correspondence isn’t from some faceless operation – it’s from us. In the world of AI, it would be easy to print addresses on labels; but this organization wants you to know that what’s being delivered to your mailbox is from next door. Or the cornfield over. This communication is personal, intentional, human.
A retired Cass County police officer asks if we have any more John James signs, because he wants to help elect the first African American governor in Michigan. A Diamond Lake resident walks in and gets involved. Jim has placed his chair in the middle of the parking lot and waves to passersby on Broadway. Karen asks someone who has stopped by what motivates them to vote. Molly crafts a few social media posts. Some people stay five minutes. Others pull up a green, cushy chair and stay awhile just to chat about the news of
the day and their frustrations with government. Others simply wander in to ask questions because they want to be better informed ahead of November 3rd.
This is not the West Wing. Rob Lowe isn’t composing lofty speeches. Politics at its most basic level consists of ordinary citizens deciding that the affairs of their community deserve some portion of their time. Cass County has plenty of those citizens. Some have lived here their entire lives. Their families know these roads, lakes, and small towns almost by instinct.
Others arrived recently. They found our lakes, farms, woods, and villages. They discovered the intimacy of a place where it doesn’t take long before the person across the counter knows your name. They appreciate the values, the intimacy. Many are political refugees from neighboring blue states, and they prefer it here. That is what makes a county more than a collection of property lines. Community is not geography. It is habit. The habit of showing up, of recognizing shared values and putting in the effort to preserve them.
The November 3 election is approaching quickly. Voters can cast ballots early, voting absentee or on Election Day. The method matters less than the act. Because elections have an enemy more powerful than disagreement: Complacency. People assume someone else will make the call, volunteer the hour, remind the neighbor, or cast the decisive
ballot. There is always somebody else. Until there isn’t.
That’s why the work happening at a bygone gas station matters. Not because addressing an envelope is heroic. Compared to the service of our men and women in uniform, it certainly isn’t. Neither is posting a sign, sharing a social media post, or answering a question.
The government of the people and by the people depends on those people showing up.
The retired police officer and the new Diamond Lake resident may have very different histories in Cass County, but for a few hours they sit in the same room, doing the same work for a community they both call home. Meanwhile, Michigan politics commands national attention. Senate races, congressional races, and statewide contests generate polls, television panels, and endless analysis about what Michigan voters supposedly think. But
Michigan voters are here in Cassopolis, Dowagiac, Edwardsburg, Union, and Vandalia.
They drive down Broadway. They stop at Harding’s and Family Fare. They run businesses, coach teams, attend church, mow lawns, and wave when you drive by. Every national political story becomes local.
A percentage on television becomes a person holding a ballot. That’s you. And me. And it’s what we value that’s at stake. So, come November 3, will you show up? Don’t assume someone else will do it for you. Don’t assume everything our side has done is enough and that you don’t matter. You do matter. And so does everyone who has put in hours
at the Sinclair, and everyone who has made calls or addressed envelopes or talked with a neighbor.
Vote early if that works for you. Vote absentee if you need to. Vote on election day, if that's your plan. But make a plan. And then help someone else make theirs.
One person casts a ballot. One person becomes ten. Ten becomes a neighborhood. Neighborhoods shape a county. Counties shape Michigan. Michigan helps shape a nation.
It takes all of us. Join us, and do your part.
