Page 32 of 107 Days

Oprah Winfrey was a surprise speaker at the convention.

She hadn’t been listed on the program and had snuck into the auditorium in a hat, glasses, and a face mask.

In her rousing speech, she listed all the many places in America where she had lived.

But it was obvious from the cheers as she took the podium that Chicago claimed her as their own.

She did her usual magic, spinning history into a unifying story of optimism and inclusion. (And she did it in under fifteen minutes.)

Doug and I were heading to Cole’s graduation at Colorado College.

We are, as I’ve noted, a big, beautiful, blended family.

And the group traveling to Colorado Springs that weekend kept getting bigger.

Crammed in an Uber to the small hotel where we’d all be staying, my mother-in-law began to hold forth on her opinions of Donald Trump.

Unsurprisingly, they were not positive. I could feel the animus emanating from the driver, and I began to worry that we might not make it to our destination.

I love my family, but there’s a lot of it, and sometimes it’s a lot. At one point, I crept off with Doug to have a quiet drink in the hotel’s tiny bar. Sitting there, I silently prayed for patience and a bit of relief from the brood.

And then the answer. Through the door walked Oprah Winfrey.

She was there, without fanfare, because one of the students from her school for impoverished girls in South Africa was also graduating, and she’d come to cheer her.

That’s who she is, and just one of the many things about her that I admire.

She gave me a big hug and pulled up a seat so we could catch up.

Bill Clinton, speaking for the twelfth time at a Democratic convention, delivered firm words.

Like the cop who arrives at the door of a rowdy party, he wanted the music turned down a little.

We were getting euphoric too soon, he warned.

“We’ve seen more than one election slip away from us when we thought it couldn’t happen,” he said, clearly referring to Hillary’s 2016 loss to Trump.

Don’t get “distracted by phony issues,” he admonished. “Never underestimate your adversary.”

Bill Clinton knows how to weave a tale. He’s one of the best storytellers in modern politics.

And why was I surprised that this night, instead of his allotted twelve minutes, he would speak for twenty-nine?

He wasn’t the only speaker who went long.

Once again, the keynote speaker, Tim Walz, was pushed partially out of prime time in the East.

Which was too bad, because Tim gave a great speech, introducing himself to the country, making the case for me, attacking Trump on abortion and on Project 2025, presenting the values of our campaign by calling on specific examples from his own life.

He told of his and Gwen’s struggle with infertility, of how it had taken years of treatments before Hope was born. When he spoke directly to his family—“you are my whole world”—Hope, in the audience, made heart hands, and a tearful Gus stood up and passionately cried, “That’s my dad!”

At that moment, even the hardened reporters in the press box were reaching for a tissue.