Robert C. Byrd

I met Robert C. Byrd back in my grade school days while on a field trip to Washington D.C. When I met him I began talking to him and when the teacher told us it was time to go tour the rest of the building I said I'm going to stay with Mr. Byrd for a while. My teacher said that Senator Byrd is a busy man I'm sure he has things to do to which he told her it wouldn't be a problem and to just pick me up at his office on the way out.

I spent the next bit sitting across the desk from Senator Byrd as an eighth grader discussing foreign policy, the U.S. political system, and his own political career. I was fascinated to be sharing some time with the longest serving U.S. Senator and enjoyed listening to his stories. At the end of our meeting when my teacher came to pick me up again Senator Byrd took out a business card and a pen he told me I could call him at any time in his office and wrote another number on the back of the card while saying you can also reach me at home if you need anything. He told the teacher how he was impressed by an eighth grader who knew so much about politics and after shaking my hand proceeded to disappear back into his office.

I didn't have any communication with Senator Byrd for a while after that but I always carried that card in my wallet. When I got into trouble over the summer and ended up in a juvenile detention facility located in Lewisburg West Virginia I ran away constantly and the staff was attempting to keep me from leaving by confiscating my shoes. I continued to run away with my feet blistered and cut from always being barefoot and one night I decided something had to be done so I demanded a phone to make a call to Senator Byrd. The staff scoffed and laughed at the thought that someone like me could know someone like Robert C. Byrd and when they wouldn't allow me to make a call I ran away again barefoot. I walked down the street to the payphone on the corner by Long John Silvers and produced that card from my wallet.

When he answered the phone I asked if he remembered me and he said he did before asking how I was doing and I informed him that I wasn't doing well. I told him that I didn't expect him to get me out of the facility as I had earned my place there by my actions but that there had to be something illegal about taking a mans shoes. We talked for a while and caught up before saying goodbye and hanging up. With my call done I walked back to the juvenile shelter and opened the door to staff members sitting in complete silence as the manager of the facility was scrolling "Do not take Dave's shoes" across a page of punishments and rewards they kept in a little three ring binder. A phone call from Robert C. Byrd had caught the staff off guard and let them know that yes someone like a trouble making ninth grader could in fact know someone like Mr. Byrd. Sadly that office visit and phone call were the only times I got to enjoy the honor of talking to my favorite senator.