Page 5 - Demo

3Foreword hen I was still in Congress, I used to make the rounds of voting precincts in southern Indiana on Election Day. Once, I ran into an older woman I%u2019d never met. I asked her whether she voted. She said she had, and then added: %u201cYou know, I vote for my candidate, and then I go home and pray for the winner.%u201d I asked her what she meant. She said: %u201cWell, I want him or her to work not just for a few, but for everyone.%u201dThis was a powerful expression of an individual%u2019s commitment to the common good, the apt title of this wonderful book. She was not the first American to express such a commitment. The notion is central to our history. %u201cGovernment is instituted for the common good; for the protection, safety, prosperity, and happiness of the people; and not for profit, honor, or private interest of any one man, family, or class of men,%u201d wrote John Adams in 1776. In his first inaugural, Thomas Jefferson called for the country %u201cto unite in common efforts for the common good.%u201dThere is a profound connection between that Hoosier%u2019s comment on Election Day, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson%u2019s words, and the photographs in these pages. There can be no common good without common places, where people from all walks of life can come together, engage in a dialogue of democracy, and build a society that works not just for a few but for everyone. For the Founders, that place was the Pennsylvania State House, today%u2019s Independence Hall, in Philadelphia, where they spent the summer designing a government that would, in Lincoln%u2019s words, be %u201cof the people, by the people, for the people.%u201d History might not record their contributions in as much detail, but for decades Hoosiers have come together to better their communities collectively in a similar manner, in their own versions of Independence Hall, which are on display in this book.Glancing at these photos inspires a healthy dose of nostalgia and brings a smile to my face. I%u2019ve crisscrossed the interstates, state highways, and county roads of Indiana more times than I can remember, oftentimes with buildings like these%u2014high schools, churches, and courthouses%u2014as my destination. I would go and meet with my boss, the Indiana taxpayer, and together we would hash out what we wanted for the country and the best way to achieve it. Not every encounter was a friendly one, and we didn%u2019t resolve every disagreement. But we tried. These encounters were almost always civil, and rightly so.It would be easy to view the particularly dilapidated and decrepit edifices that populate this book as a metaphor for a more widespread decline%u2014in civility, community, and togetherness. It%u2019s also tempting to romanticize a bygone and simpler era. But I think that would be a mistake. When I look at these buildings, I wonder about the debates, sermons, lectures that took place inside them. Most of all, I think about the people who came W