Why I donated to Marco Rubio

Though I'm relatively politically active, I've never donated money to a candidate for office.

Until now. His name is Marco Rubio, and he understands what America is.

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My abbreviated story: I was born to lower-middle class parents, neither of whom graduated college. Through their hard work, they climbed deliberately from near-empoverished upbringings. When I was a child, my mom held four jobs; occasionally, my dad still talks about those years when he worked 90 hours a week.

But, by my senior year in high school, they'd risen to middle-middle class. Dad could finally buy a new pickup. They built their own house. And they could afford to offer moderate help with my college education (and that of my brother and sister).

Today my brother is an engineer, my sister is a high school teacher, and I'm in law school.

For 40 years, my parents have put forth efforts that can be described only as epic, working jobs that are often thankless, unflattering, and miserable. They did it because they wanted their children to have careers. They did it so we could be a bit better off than they were.

The beautiful thing: It worked.

That's America.

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Mr. Rubio understands this. His biography describes the phenomenon discussed above. Of course, he has an advantage in this. His parents were immigrants, who fled from their native Cuba to America's opportunity. Because of their hard work, and this country's freedom, their dreams for their children have been fulfilled. Mr. Rubio's life is a testament to America.

Since the discovery of this continent, and especially since the founding of this country, America has been the one place where people go because they could not fulfill their destiny in the lands of their origin.

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I don't like cultish mobs marrying their hopes to a politician — any politician — for two reasons. First, Americans have done that with Mark Sanford, Sarah Palin, and Barack Obama in recent years — and all three have dramatically disappointed their followers. Second, I find cults of personality quite offensive. If you need someone else's political success to make you happy, then your own sense of self worth is unhealthily low.

But Mr. Rubio has captured my imagination. A few times, I've even told friends: "I think someday, he's going to be president." I don't know if that's true, and at the moment I don't really care. But I am certain of this: Mr. Rubio is an excellent advocate of America. (Here I'm referring to America the idea, not just the landmass.)

Over the next decade, one thing tops the list of America's needs: Political leadership in the landmass that understands the idea.

That's Marco Rubio. He's not the only person who meets that qualification. He's not even the only candidate for Congress this year who does. But his ability to convey that understanding is the most impressive that I've seen.

This country needs a Senate full of people like Mr. Rubio.

* * *

I'm a graduate student working an unpaid internship, I drive a 12-year-old truck that's pushing 180,000 miles, and I buy almost all of my clothes from the $5 rack at Wal-Mart. I can't afford this, but I did it anyway.

Via marcorubio.com, I donated $50 to Mr. Rubio's candidacy.

I will make up for it through a series of Ramen noodle meals, skipping cigars I'd like to smoke, drinking PBR instead of Guiness, and watching borrowed DVDs when I'd rather go to the movies. In other words, I intend to sacrifice certain items that would contribute to a higher quality of my life.

But, in Marco Rubio, I think I'm making that sacrifice for a good cause.