A Nickel for Lunch

My father grew up on the streets of Brooklyn, the son of immigrants. His dad-the grandfather I never met-would leave home each day with a nickel in his pocket. If he found work that day, he used the nickel for lunch. If not, he brought the nickel home.
 
Years later, my dad went to school on the GI Bill, moved to Minnesota, and became a photographer. He took his kids around the state as he documented the lives of Minnesotans. In these people-farmers, factory workers, people waiting at bus stops in the dead of winter, people in state hospitals, people of all ages, colors, and backgrounds-he saw the same struggle and heroism he grew up with in Brooklyn. He passed along to me a deep commitment to stand with them. I'm thinking of him, and of all our heroes, on this Father's Day.
 
Standing with the heroes of Minnesota means fighting for health care-not insurance-that everyone can access and afford. Standing with the heroes of Minnesota means fighting for an economy that isn't rigged for the wealthy and well-connected. Standing with the heroes of Minnesota means removing the barriers that keep them from getting ahead.
 
This summer I'm hitting the road, much like my dad did many years ago, to visit Minnesotans where they live and work and to talk about my vision of a Minnesota that lifts us all.