The Familiarity of Tim Walz
Like most of the country, I’ve been watching Minnesota Governor Tim Walz closely and with interest over the last few weeks. He emerged as a name on Vice President Kamala Harris’s VP short list, and everyone started to pay attention. He had some real zingers in his media hits, and past social media posts and videos of him began to go viral. Some of them were so funny and personable.
In a now-viral video with his daughter at the state fair, he agreed to go on a ride of her choice; it was a very enjoyable interaction that felt super genuine. The video ended with him asking her if she wanted a corn dog; she replied she was a vegetarian. “Turkey dog, then”, he quipped with that Midwestern dad energy.
In another post, he lamented that his “damn dog” had locked himself in the master bedroom of his home followed by a picture of a ladder being hoisted up to the bedroom window. The final picture of the dog looking pleased with himself delighted people online.
Many of his posts and videos include him in a camo hat just talking to people. He served in the National Guard. He was a football coach and social studies teacher. He feels like a real person that has lived in the same skin for all of his life. There is no slickness or facade to him. You get the feeling Tim Walz will tell you what he’s thinking if you ask. He can also probably tell you why your furnace is making that noise.
In his media hits over the last few weeks, he has done a remarkable job of painting Trump Republicans as “weird”. It has been incredible to watch that one word catch fire. Every Democratic surrogate seems to have some variation on it now. Like everything online, it will die down because it will become tiresome. But for Walz? It felt genuine. When he said, “These guys are just weird” and then followed up by saying no one in a bar in Minnesota cares about banning Animal Farm, it lended a voice to what so many Americans feel: tired of this.
I watched him wondering why he seemed so familiar to me because I don’t think I could have told you his name a month ago. As we were watching his speech this week, I read a post online that I’ll summarize: Tim Walz feels familiar because everyone recognizes him as their dad before he started watching Fox News.
That was it.
My dad was not Midwestern, but he was a Texan with real “dad joke” energy. He was corny. He was embarrassing at times. Nothing delighted him more than landing a stupid joke and watching everyone groan. He was the guy that would pull the stud finder out of his tool box, point it at himself, and go, “Found one”. He gleefully impersonated actors or singers to make people laugh. He wore high-waisted jeans, cargo shorts, and, yes, camo hats. When “Another One Bites the Dust” by Queen would come on, his whole body, from the tip of his toes to to the top of his head, would start to move. And he could move. He was a wonderful dancer and a really adept tennis player.
He wasn’t highly educated, but he was extremely smart. His math skills, in particular, were quite good. He used those skills to build beautiful things with his hands, and he loved to gift those things he built to others. He adored fishing and driving the grandkids around the lake on his boat; he wanted nothing more than to dump them off the tube into the water. The first thing he asked when I went to visit him after my first semester at college was, “When was the last time the oil was changed on that car?”.
He was funny and kind to the people he loved, but, in so many ways, he was just kind of a dork.
But, as the years went on, he became something different. I loved my dad, but I didn’t always like him. We were very different, and I am not sure he always saw those differences as good. He was often put off by how cerebral I could be; I think he thought I was a snob. When Trump emerged in 2015, it was the first time I actually saw my father’s politics emerge. I knew he was conservative (gun owning Texan? Check). I just didn’t really pay attention to it before then.
In many ways, social media became the conduit for my education about my father. He would post memes and misinformation about the 2016 presidential candidates; it became clear we were on different sides of the aisle. I didn’t think all that much about it at first. We didn’t always see eye to eye, but my dad loved me. Right?
Then, the shift really hit close to home. He posted something about how stupid liberals were, and I remember it hitting me in the chest like he was standing in the room. He knew my politics. How could he post that? Then, the pain went just a little deeper. Maybe he didn’t even think about me at all when he decided to post this “harmless” little meme.
I didn’t discuss politics with my dad. I knew where he stood, and I knew where I stood. I didn’t disown him or stop seeing him, but there was a loss there that I am not sure I fully grasped until he was gone.
In 2018, he died.
I have no idea what his thoughts would have been on the latter part of the Tump presidency, the 2020 election, or all that followed. I do know that I saw a different side of him in those first two years, and there is a relief in knowing that I don’t have to experience that hurt again. But there’s also pain in knowing that my funny, goofy, talented, and down-to-earth dad is gone.
So, in watching Tim Walz, I see so much of my dad. Not the politics, obviously. But the humor, the salt-of-the-earth demeanor, the taste in clothes and music, and the honesty. Those are all qualities my dad had too.
As a social scientist, I know the Vice President doesn’t really have much impact on the ticket. Because of this, the choice is really more of a personal one than a political strategy. The bump of joy and online enthusiasm that Walz is bringing right now will likely die down. But for many of us, he feels familiar. He is an embodiment of some of the best qualities the men around us had when we were growing up. I look forward to seeing what he does next. I think my dad might have liked him, even if he wouldn’t have voted for him. Maybe we need a little more of that in this world.
