We live in a nice neighborhood. It’s clean, well maintained, has great neighbors, and is safe. We’re a very diverse community. White, Black, Hispanic, Asian, private sector, retired military, former and current government employees, young and old, including and granddaddies and grammies. Shelley and I are card-carrying members of this latter group.
Our development in Prince Willliam County, Virginia is on the fringes of Dale City. It was built in 1992, several years after the surrounding communities rose in the 1960s and 70s. Dale City began as a classic suburban community, appealing to people who worked for local businesses, served in the military, or were government employees. Most were moderate income families looking for a community with good schools, parks, and community services. They found this combination in the Woodbridge region south of the Occoquan River but within commuter’s reach of Washington DC.
I was blessed to represent this area after I retired from the US Army in 2001. In my time in the General Assembly of Virginia, I kept the people of Dale City and my larger constituency that reached out to Fauquier County in the front of my mind. My concern was the maintenance of a family-oriented community.
Today, all of that is in the past for me. My service ended in 2018, but my heart is still with these people, even as the demographics of this community have shifted. No longer is it predominantly white. It is quite multicultural, and increasingly Hispanic.
One of my favorite pastimes is to take a long walk or jog (my running days are over at 73) from my neighborhood and through the adjacent ones that had their beginning 50 years ago. The original owners in Dale City have largely moved on and have been supplanted with new families.
If you were to accompany me on my jaunts through the older neighborhood adjacent to ours filled with colonial designs, you would find saltbox homes in varying degrees of maintenance. Some are run down. But they are enjoying a renaissance of sorts. Many are occupied by people of Hispanic origin who work in the trades or landscaping. Most came to the US legally or over time found a way to become legal citizens. No matter. They’re neighbors. But more interestingly, they’re entrepreneurs.
As I make my rounds I see an abundance of trucks. Many with ladders atop or trailers behind. Those are the ones working in the construction trades or lawn services. They work hard each day. If you pass though this community during the morning, it’s quiet. Why? Because the adults are at work and their kids are in school. If you are in their neighborhood at midafternoon, you will observe their kids coming home via school buses or in automobiles young people drive as a benefit from their working parents. What do I see? I see Americana. I see people living the American dream. I see myself as a youngster growing up.
In the late evening, it’s common to see trucks backing up into driveways with their trailers and gear. They’re home. Time for a cold beer, a sit-down dinner, maybe a cookout, and time to hear the exploits of the children they love. They work hard. Later they relax. They dream of the future. They work toward it, both in labor and in school.
They have found their way to the US legally, or maybe with shortcuts. But they are here and the love that they are here. On Sundays, the local churches who serve the Hispanic community have full lots. They love God. If you suggest to them that boys are girls and vice versa, they will not be persuaded. They know that babies are a gift of God. That’s why they have them in abundance. And they know that work is honorable, that education is a blessing, and that if you do both well, the future will be rich in blessings. They get it. They get the American dream.
Twenty years ago, many of these folks would lean toward the Democrats. Republicans were anti-them, as they saw it. And the rhetoric then would confirm that. But it strikes me that the people in my neighborhood and next to it have a different mindset these days. They work hard and have no desire to see their neighborhoods infected with gangs who push across our borders relentlessly. They have no interest in having their daughters suffer the presence of boys in their school bathrooms. They do not want higher taxes that will undermine their entrepreneurial efforts. They do not support biological men ending the dreams of their athletic daughters. They believe that one man and one woman constitute a marriage. Their values are sound.
When I traverse my neighborhood, I see potential Republicans. I wonder if the Republican Party does.
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