Page 34 of 107 Days

In Savannah, Georgia, Tim Walz and I hopped on our campaign bus for a two-day barnstorming tour of southeast Georgia.

It’s an area that doesn’t get a lot of love from Democratic candidates, but we were after every vote in a state that was polling as evenly split and in which every vote mattered.

The big bus had been custom painted blue with a red stripe and stars and the message A NEW WAY FORWARD .

Before we boarded, we spoke with a group of students from Savannah State University, Georgia’s oldest HBCU.

Joining us on the bus was the mayor of the city, Van R.

Johnson, a former police officer who shares my passion for small business and creating opportunity for people to build wealth.

We headed out of the city, through woods draped with Spanish moss and lush wetlands, to Liberty County High School in Hinesville, where the school’s marching band played for us.

I told the band members that I, too, had been in my school band.

I played everything from the French horn to the kettle drum.

With the horn players, I shared that I’d given up the horn because it involved entirely too much spit.

Tim and some of my team members later said that they were surprised to learn about my onetime musical prowess.

It was another example of how there were so many more ways to connect with people, if I’d only had more time.

On the way back to town we stopped at Sandfly BBQ, where we chatted with the owners and a group of teachers who happened to be dining there.

At 7:40 p.m., we reached the Savannah hotel where we would stay the night.

In my four years as VP, I can count on one hand the times I’ve walked through the front door of a hotel.

I don’t see the flower-bedecked foyers, the marble staircases.

For security reasons, we go through loading docks, kitchens, the long, unadorned passageways walked by housekeepers and janitors.

We take the service elevators, just like the people whose work allows for the comfortable stays of business travelers and tourists.

We move through the spaces reserved for workers who are rarely seen, barely noticed.

I always made sure that the campaign booked us in hotels where the staff are union members, and very often those unfancy passageways and utility rooms were decked with posters praising the employees of the month or messages about leadership, or safety, or boosting morale.

I would stop and read these messages. It allowed me to connect for a few moments with the people who did the work that would afford me a good night’s sleep, a good breakfast.

Whenever I could, I shook their hands and let them know they were appreciated.