BREAK IN TRANSCRIPT
Mr. President, today I join my colleagues and all Arkansans in support of and in prayers for the people of Southeast Texas and all of the victims of Hurricane Harvey. I also want to express our thanks on behalf of a grateful nation. All of you reminded us of the American spirit at a time when we needed it pretty badly.
August was not an easy month for our country. First, in Charlottesville, then in Berkeley, we saw some pretty disgusting things--racism, anarchism, mob violence. If all you knew about America was what you saw on cable news and social media, you might think it was disintegrating into two armed camps of Communists and neo-Nazis. Images reminiscent of dark days in the last century appeared on our screens-- torchlight marches, black-masked thugs, political violence in the streets, beatings, and even a murder--but none of these contemptible people represent America, certainly not what is best about America. They cannot even begin to understand what makes this country great because this country's destiny was always to be more than a new battleground for old hatreds. It was meant to be a mighty fortress for the rights of all Americans. Our destiny is to be the home of mankind's aspiration for freedom, not the twisted delusions of grandeur of pathetic losers. The vast majority of Americans--whatever color, faith, age, or region--celebrate this creed, and they welcome this destiny.
That is exactly why we should not amplify irrelevant, fringe voices. It creates the illusion that a trivial, impotent minority is, in fact, a large and powerful movement against the dictates of common sense and experience. To my knowledge, I have never met a neo-Nazi, a White supremacist, or a leftwing anarchist, nor have the Arkansans with whom I spoke in the last month, but while watching TV or surfing the web in the last month, you would think they number in the tens of millions. The drive for ratings and clicks seemed to leave a lot of Americans wondering, Is this America? Is this whom we have become?
Then Hurricane Harvey made landfall. The stories and the images that followed, once again, proved the old maxim: Adversity does not teach character; it reveals character. What it revealed is an American spirit as strong, as brave, and as loving as ever.
Law enforcement and other first responders performed bravely and skillfully, as always, but what was striking was how ordinary citizens answered the call to duty. There was Jim McIngvale, better known as Mattress Mack. Anyone who has ever lived in Houston knows that you cannot watch TV without seeing a Mattress Mack commercial, but Mack was not selling mattresses that day--he was saving families. He turned two furniture stores into relief centers and opened his doors to anyone who sought shelter. Soon, he had 400 people at each store, sleeping on recliners, sofas, love seats--you name it. He gave out his personal cell number for people to call for help. If they could not reach his store because of the flooding, he sent his delivery trucks to go get them. When asked about his generosity, Mattress Mack replied: ``I'm a big believer that it's better to give than to take.''
But not everyone had a Mattress Mack to go to. Some people had to call their local Chick-fil-As. Jeffrey Urban went to work just to make sure that everything was all right when he noticed a familiar phone number flashing across the caller ID. It was J.C. Spencer, a regular customer, who called that morning to place a once-in-a-lifetime order: two grilled chicken burritos with extra egg--and a boat. Urban called the owner, Cindy Smith, who sent her husband with his boat to the Spencers' home, but there was not enough room in the boat for both of them and their possessions. Luckily, two heroes on jet skis arrived-- Keith Christensen and Winston Savice, Jr. When J.C. took a photo of his wife Karen sitting atop a jet ski while Winston sped her to safety, an internet sensation was born.
After weeks of our living rooms being filled with the sounds and imagery of hatred, we were suddenly overcome by stories of bravery and self-sacrifice. There was local reporter Brandi Smith, who flagged down a rescue crew to help a truckdriver who was trapped in his vehicle. There was Houston SWAT Officer Daryl Hudeck, who carried a young mother, Catherine Pham, and her 13-month-old son Aiden to dry land. There was Catholic priest David Bergeron, who kayaked around his neighborhood and offered to say Mass for anyone in town. Then there was an unknown man from Texas City, who said, when asked what he was doing with his boat under a flooded underpass, that he and his friends were there to save some lives.
So many of these images have already become iconic: Sheriff's Deputy Rick Johnson carrying two children through the floodwaters and the Cajun Navy from Louisiana being lined up like soldiers on a highway, as far as the eye could see, readying for battle. Yet perhaps the most telling image of all was the human chain. When Andrea Smith went into labor in her flooded apartment, her neighbors formed a human chain to help her reach a dump truck that had come to take her to the hospital. There was no pride of place, no rank, no distinction--just humble, selfless Americans who joined hands to help a neighbor in time of need.
You could say that human chain was a symbol because, when you step back and soak it all in, you realize this is America, that this is who we are as a nation, not those ideological zealots, not racists and Communists. Their blinded eyes cannot see the dignity and love in that unbroken human chain.
We have never lost this spirit of America, but we do occasionally lose sight of it, which is why we ought to pay tribute to these normal, public-spirited Americans--the people in that human chain, the people who heeded the call, who put their stranded countrymen first. They do not mistake malice for power, and they understand that the greatest power of all is love. They are an inspiration to all of us in this Chamber and, indeed, to all the world. They are the reason we can look to Houston, a city much embattled though not embittered, and take pride in what we see--not human devastation but human valor.
I yield the floor.
I suggest the absence of a quorum.
BREAK IN TRANSCRIPT