Politics aside, Americans dream same dreams, sing same song

"I hear America singing, the varied carols I hear;

Those of mechanics - each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong;

The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, "

- Walt Whitman

CHARLOTTE, N.C. - It's a safe bet Walt Whitman never attended a national convention. He would have needed a bullhorn and advanced Tourette syndrome to be heard on the fringes of our great political debate.

In 2012, Whitman's idyllic dream of Americans whistling while they work would surely be drowned out by the moans of wage-earners anxious about their futures and the sighs of the long-term jobless as they stand in lines that stretch to the edge of oblivion. He would be shoved aside by the roaring call and response of pro-life and pro-choice protesters. He would be written off as quaint by the powerful interests that fund the political parties and increasingly manipulate the process from behind the scenes.

I spent parts of two weeks wandering the streets and convention halls of Tampa and Charlotte listening to the stunning cacophony of American voices as they praised their candidates and vilified the opposition.

I heard Americans hungry for answers as they sang, at times off key, from different political sheet music.

Beyond the trumpeting of elephants and the braying of donkeys, I also heard hopeful voices filled with love for this country and genuine concern for its future.

The streets and halls held no shortage of characters.

In Tampa, I met self-styled presidential candidate Vermin Supreme. (I'm pretty sure he's not one of the original Supremes.) Bullhorn in hand, the gray-bearded Vermin wore a rubber boot on his head and said he was virulently anti-Zombie. At one point, he broke away from an interview to pursue an impromptu debate with former U.S. ambassador to the United Nations John Bolton. Vermin chased Bolton down the street without losing the boot from his head.

Later I met Ruben Israel, leader of a burly group of men who took turns shouting into a bullhorn about how much Jesus hates the wicked and sinful. Israel accused President Barack Obama of being a Muslim socialist and Republican presidential nominee Mitt Romney, a Mormon, of worshiping a false God. To illustrate his point, Israel waved long underwear and reminded all within earshot that neither Romney nor Obama were to be trusted.

I doubt Jesus was proud, but Israel sure drew a crowd. Hey, you don't meet an equal-opportunity bigot every day.

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"The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work;

The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat - the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck. ..."

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Along the way, I met small-business owners who praised the president's tax cuts and union construction workers who believed Romney had their backs. I met a Republican legislator from rural Georgia who has devoted her political life to bringing medical care to the disadvantaged. I listened to conservative war veterans from Colorado enthusiastically praise a Democratic president for improving their lives on and off the battlefield.

Economic theory flowed like keg beer at a frat party: Supply side, trickle down, middle out, bottom up. More regulation, and less. Tax the rich and while you're at it, cut taxes for the rich.

Some protests were blaring, others were more subtle. Devoted Ron Paul supporters attempted a cockeyed coup that became a momentary distraction in Tampa. A week later in largely non-union Charlotte, some major labor leaders stayed away from the Democratic convention.

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"The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench - the hatter singing as he stands;

The wood-cutter's song - the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown;

The delicious singing of the mother - or of the young wife at work - or of the girl sewing or washing - Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else;

The day what belongs to the day - At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly,

Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs."

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I was reminded over and over that all politicians, even the millionaires, tell personal versions of the same story of their rise from humble beginnings: Devoted parents, loyal spouses, and a tireless work ethic - not multibillion-dollar political machines - are responsible for the rise of Senator Snort and Representative Righteous to their place in the political pantheon. But make no mistake. They haven't forgotten you, the People.

Some speeches were moving. Others faded faster than a campaign promise. But one thing emerged above the phantasmagorical fray: Every elected official wants you to choose their path to the American Dream.

In Tampa, I watched Clint Eastwood stare down an empty chair and audition for the remake of "Grumpy Old Men."

In Charlotte, I saw James Taylor counter by simply saying, "I'm an old white guy, and I love Barack Obama."

The Democratic convention was historic for gays and lesbians. Obama has done more to forward the cause of equality for sexual minorities than any president. Will it help him in November, or fire up the opposition?

Meanwhile, the Republicans presented their most ethnically mixed convention in history. The multicultural marketing of the Democrats is pushing the GOP to reach out to minorities and expand on its pale demographics, and that's a good thing. The spirit of inclusion gets kicked around, but it's a great American value.

There were moments I found myself thinking Vermin Supreme had a point about Zombies in America. (More than a few wandered the streets of Tampa and Charlotte.) But for all our differences, I met many people from both sides of our great American debate who were sincere in their love of this country. They didn't lust for the blood of the opposition or covet the keys to the Oval Office. They just wanted to leave the nation a better place for their children and grandchildren.

At times the wicked noise of the presidential campaign is so loud that it almost seems easier to cover your ears and forget that it's our process, too. But that would be a shame.

So just keep on singing, America.

And remember to keep an eye out for Zombies.

John L. Smith's column appears Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday. Email him at Smith@reviewjournal.com or call 702-383-0295. He also blogs at lvrj.com/blogs/smith. Follow him on Twitter @jlnevadasmith.