In political whirlwind, sentiments of regular people resonated most

It was fitting that the two electric weeks of the Republican and Democratic conventions ended in Philadelphia, the city of our nation’s birth. And it was only natural that questions of what our country is, what it’s been through and where it’s going tumbled from everywhere.

It’s a difficult time for America. Shocking, horrifying things happen seemingly every day: terrorist attacks, police shootings of unarmed men, ambushes of officers. People are hurtful to each other and afraid of each other. Many assume they understand the experience of others without even having a conversation.

Of all the talks I had with members of Nevada’s delegation in Cleveland and Philadelphia, of all the protests and demonstrations of free speech (including when Bernie Sanders supporters walked out of the DNC), and out of everything that happened during the conventions themselves, two moments stick out. They were quiet, otherwise unremarkable moments, just talking with Lyft and Uber drivers.

Mohamed, a Muslim immigrant from Egypt living outside of Philadelphia, told me how he’d won a green card lottery and come to the United States in search of opportunity. He used to work at 7-Eleven. Now he’s driving for Lyft.

He said he was conflicted over Republican presidential nominee Donald Trump. He’s not a citizen, but Mohamed said if he could, he would probably register as a Republican, describing himself as fiscally conservative and in favor of limited government.

But he was torn over Trump, who has said he would bar all Muslim immigrants — like Mohamed and his family — from entering the country. He thought it was something of a blessing he couldn’t vote: He wouldn’t have to make that choice.

And then there was Chanel, an Uber driver in Cleveland who (apologetically) went on a 25-minute rant about everything that was wrong with the country.

Chanel, who is black, said she was frustrated with people assuming she was poor just because of her ethnicity. She wanted to tell them she had white friends who were struggling. Some of her customers, she said, tried to explain what Trump was going to do for “minorities.” Didn’t they know that white people were soon going to be minorities, too?

Chanel was fed up with welfare programs, how they encouraged people to work below a certain income level because they were scared of getting cut off from aid. And she was exasperated that she had to work so much to pay the bills when she wanted to devote time and energy to her kids. She asked how parents working 60 to 80 hours a week just trying to survive could be there in the ways their children needed and deserved. Is it any wonder so many end up in gangs, she mused.

As I got out of the car, she apologized again for talking so much. But she hoped her story inspired me to write something.

It did. She did.

In the past two weeks, I’ve seen misunderstanding and fear. People are scared about their safety, their jobs, their families. They’re scared about this election. They’re scared about the nation’s future.

But being in Philadelphia, I was reminded how resilient we are — whether your ancestors are rooted here or landed on Plymouth Rock nearly 400 years ago, or whether you arrived yesterday.

It has never come easy, the practice of liberty — and justice — for all. We’ve often missed the mark, but that has always been the aim.

The Liberty Bell no longer hangs in Independence Hall. It has worn with age, just as our country has — steeped in conflict, atrocities and discord met with calls for hope and unity. However it wears, that great symbol’s inscription will read, “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land unto all inhabitants thereof.”