Earlier this summer, I decided to send a little note to Hillary Clinton through her official website. I honestly thought it would be read by an intern, maybe get a chuckle, and we’d receive a standard response—like the ones you get when you sign an online petition.
Fast forward to last Thursday: a letter arrived in my mailbox. It was tucked inside one of those direct-mail newspapers, you know, the ones filled with classified ads. I recognized the envelope—it had a distinctive H with a red arrow on it. But it was addressed to my son, Jake.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I brought it inside. In my kitchen, I held it up to the light, pondering if it was really a letter or just another solicitation for funds. I didn’t want Jake to think he was getting a personal letter only to find out it was a request for money. (He has been considering donating some of his allowance anyway.)
Not able to contain my intrigue, I opened it. The word “Jakesy” jumped out, and I could feel my hands shaking. My eyes darted to the date: September 10, 2016. The day before 9/11, when Clinton left the memorial service in New York, and the media went wild about her supposed illness. On that Saturday morning, battling pneumonia, Hillary Clinton penned a letter to my son.
I immediately texted my husband: “JAKE GOT MAIL. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”
My daughter Lily and I went to pick up Jake from school. He’s in second grade, missing a front tooth, and every day he hides by the side of the car when we arrive, leaping in and yelling “Boo!” He climbed in and started buckling his seatbelt.
Me: “We have something exciting to share!”
Lily: “Jake, you got a letter!”
Me: “And it’s from Hillary Clinton!”
His face lit up like a Christmas tree, his brown eyes wide and mouth agape. I handed him the letter. “Read it out loud for us,” I encouraged.
For a seven-year-old, Jake is an exceptional reader. I’m not just saying that—he reads with such emotion and flair. He read that letter with the kind of intensity you’d expect from a seasoned actor delivering a soliloquy.
People often ask me how he reacted. Well, he reacted like any typical seven-year-old would—he smiled, beaming with joy. That letter made him feel seen and valued. It was perfect for his age, yet it carried a depth that resonated.
Sharing this letter publicly wasn’t an easy choice for my family. We’re active in our community but also cherish our privacy. We didn’t want Jake to feel overwhelmed by attention, whether negative or positive. We wanted him to think this letter was special, just for him. After all, it was a personal message.
But it also holds a universal significance that every child—boys and girls alike—should hear. It wasn’t a political correspondence, and let me clarify: it didn’t come with any strings attached or requests for donations. We chose to make it public because this message is for every child, especially from the first female nominee of a major political party for president.
We shared this letter because it radiates love, and that’s what our country desperately needs right now. We need calm minds, compassion, and to nurture the next generation. As Hillary wrote, “If the space that you’re in doesn’t have room for your voice, don’t be afraid to carve out a space of your own.” Jake loved that line; his face lit up as he read it.
We want other parents to read this letter to their kids—just replace our child’s name with yours. By sharing this letter, we are making room for our voices to be heard—voices that call for respect, thoughtfulness, and love.
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To summarize, this heartfelt encounter with Hillary Clinton’s letter not only made my child feel special but also highlighted the importance of every voice being heard. It reminds us all to carve out our spaces and advocate for love and respect in our communities.