Whenever anyone has something to say or a question to ask about Sherrod Brown, my go-to story, and the only one I need to describe him, is of the first time we met.

In the parking lot of a union hall. Where he was meeting my father and I to attend a muskrat dinner.

One of the last times I saw him, at a UAW picnic in the smallest town I ever remember visiting, he brought Connie and Franklin along.

They've always been my kind of people. I'm glad he sees the company he keeps and the bigger picture of which he is a part.