Last summer, I met with both Sen. Ted Cruz and Congressman Beto O'Rourke on the same day.

You'd think that we'd had our fill of campaigns and elections after the 2016 political carousel, but my teacher friends and I wrapped up our school year ready to work. We contacted candidates and representatives thirsty to meet with decision-makers about issues which impact us, like school vouchers and funding.

Tired of the spin and soundbites, we knew face-to-face interaction would be key; so, we emailed, we called, we visited offices.

It was early July, and one of my friends and I drove to the Sheraton on the North Loop. The nonprofit Concerned Veterans for America (CVA) had invited Cruz for a closed town hall, and I found tickets by happenstance, hidden within a group discussion on his campaign Facebook page.

There was a sign-in table and a place to write questions. Near the door was a small group trying to get in. The patient Cruz staffers explained that a ticket was required. "But where was this publicized?" asked a sassy lady, white curls neatly tucked under her sunhat. She kept poking her cane with emphasis toward the open door.

My friend and I walked in, and I counted: 64 seats. Cameras were set up in the back, and the meeting began with introductions by the host and director of CVA, Dan Caldwell. He led the Pledge of Allegiance. Someone in the audience insisted we do the Texas Pledge, too.

One by one, each branch of our proud veterans was called, and they stood. We all clapped. Caldwell introduced Cruz and established the rules: They'll take as many questions as they can, but no protests. "If you interrupt or disrupt the event in any way, you will be asked to leave," he said.

Sure enough, two people who attempted to disrupt were removed. Good! Those of us who showed up wanted to hear the senator.

Cruz and Caldwell continued a back-and-forth for about 20 minutes, after which the senator answered five prescreened questions. Toward the end, though, Caldwell made a huge mistake. He said that while some representatives had been out hiding during recess, "Senator Cruz is not one of them."

The crowd of protesters who had maintained civility lost it, and everyone erupted, many in laughter. Cruz was trying to calm down the crowd and yelled, "I was about to thank folks for being civil and respectful," and I took this chaotic moment as a chance. I walked to the stage, right up to him.

I found some jumble of words to communicate that I had learned a lot from the town hall — I had no idea the Pentagon wasn't audited, and I agreed that it should be. "As a teacher, I'm audited every single year with exams," I remember blubbering.

But I had one thing to ask. I begged Cruz to return for an open town hall. I explained that there were people standing outside who hadn't been able to get in, who didn't know to get tickets. Then I shook his hand, and he closed the meeting thanking me and everyone who came, and I took him at his word: He'd be back.

My friend and I then walked out of the Sheraton and into the blinding Texas light, where we were both shocked at the contrast Cruz's closed town hall had with our meeting with O'Rourke that morning.

GRAY MATTERS: Running with Beto O'Rourke

Seven other friends and I had been waiting on the side of the road under U.S. 59. A car pulled up and parked, and O'Rourke's long, Jimmy Stewart-like frame unfolded. He enthusiastically shook our hands and introduced his staff.

But there was a problem – the coffee shop we picked didn't open for another hour.

"No worries," he said. After a quick Google search, he looked up at Nicki Zachary, then a second-year teacher and my former student.

"I'll ride with Nicki!," he said. Eyes wide, she jumped into her little sedan with the candidate for the U.S. Senate.

We pulled into the nearest place with coffee and spent two hours with him. Tables were pushed together, mugs of coffee steamed. I asked: "Do you meet with your constituents for town halls?"

"Yes," he said. "Once a month. I meet my constituents once a month for a town hall – anyone can come – and I meet specifically with veterans once a quarter."

We talked informally about high-stakes testing and the Betsy DeVos confirmation. He asked question after question. By the end of the meeting, he might have asked more question than we had.

And while his charm and genuine engagement were indeed magnetic, it was his comment about monthly town halls that left me impressed.

O'ROURKE ISN'T the only one meeting monthly with constituents. Utah's Republican Senator, Mike Lee, held live town halls once a month for four years, switching over to telephone town halls only last year. This system is similar to Texas Senator John Cornyn's call-out system, though the last time he randomly called Houston constituents was last summer. My Congressman, Ted Poe, also uses it.

Cruz's team explains that he has done events "with Q&As" 22 times in 2017. Maria Jeffrey from Cruz's office gave the same figure of 19 town halls that W. Gardner Selby from Politifact partially debunked last year: Three of those "town halls" included the meetings hosted by CVA, which were not announced by his office. And 11 were private meetings. A good friend and fellow "woke" mom contacted me excitedly about Senator Cruz coming to meet exclusively with her company – Lockheed and Martin.

"What should I ask?" she had messaged me on Facebook.

I suggested she ask the most important question a constituent can ask a representative. "When are you planning to host a town hall?"

He evaded her question at the private event.

GRAY MATTERS: Under the cover of night, Houstonians seek 'missing' senator

The truth is that Cruz might have attended "seven events" this year where a few people got to ask him some questions, but his office has organized and hosted no town halls, open, closed or over a telephone system. In fact, his federal Senate office has no call-out system.

His campaign, however, does. His Senate and campaign offices said that he does do call outs – but only to his campaign supporters. Catherine Frazier from Cruz's campaign office confirmed that he's been doing them since he started running for office. She emphasized, "He's done two in the last few weeks."

But schedules or instructions for opting in for these telephone town halls are not displayed on Cruz's Senate page or Senate Facebook page. For a man who mocked "coastal elites" for their "safe spaces" in his piece on President Trump in Time, Cruz seems to hide in safe spaces filled exclusively with an echo chamber of his campaign supporters. Why not call out to all Texas constituents?

In contrast – again – O'Rourke's office has hosted 95 open town halls, not counting the quarterly veterans town halls, since he began his first term in the House of Representatives in 2013 – the same year Cruz began his first term.

These monthly town halls are organized by O'Rourke's congressional office. Links to the dates and times of the events are clearly posted on his congressional website and congressional Facebook page. His office explains they call out to constituents before the town halls take place to get the word out.

Besides the meeting at the coffee shop, I attended an open town hall hosted by his campaign when he returned to Houston. Back in February at Greenhouse International Church, well over 150 Houstonians showed up to ask questions. He began taking open questions when a young woman identified herself in two ways: She was a current student at Harvard University, and she was a Dreamer.

"Why did you vote 'yes' on the budget deal when we asked you not to?" she demanded, voice cracking.

His own voice dropped an octave, and he slowly responded, "If I thought voting 'no' would've secured a DACA deal, I would've done it. But I don't believe that was going to happen that way."

She persisted. "But why didn't you trust us? We needed your 'no' vote" and continued expressing that she was angry and felt betrayed.

"I'm glad that you're here telling me how you feel. Even if we disagree, I think it's important that I hear you."

That's exactly what he been up to: Besides hosting monthly town halls for his El Paso constituents, through his campaign he has hosted an additional 235 open town halls as he's traveled through 251 of the 254 counties in Texas.

THESE MEN are both great guys. Great dads. Passionate speakers. Both bleed Texas.

Every time O'Rourke is in El Paso, he walks his children to the same elementary school he attended. "We can't plan anything before school on days he is home, so he can walk them," said Chris Evans, his communications director. "They love it, but he definitely loves it more."

Cruz recently tweeted a selfie with his daughter Caroline at "Hamilton" in Houston with the grin of a man in heaven. "Singing, dancing and the Federalist Papers ... a perfect daddy-daughter evening!"

In a political universe filled with not-so-great-men, we should consider ourselves lucky to have to choose this November between two amazing fathers and Texans – but, then again, we're voting for a senator. And they aren't simply running for the seat; they are competing to define what it means to be a senator.

Once, at a Humanities Texas teacher conference, Charles Flanagan from the National Archives made me break down the Constitution by word count. We made graphs with bright colors. And guess what? Article I, which outlines the powers of Congress, takes up just over half the entire document. It exposes our exultation for representative government. The people should always be in contact with their representatives. Representatives should always be connected with the people.

The reality is that if Texans want to bypass the noise and spin of the media – right- or left-leaning – we have to work to connect with candidates directly. Go to town halls if candidates swing through your city. Bring your list of questions. Call your representatives while waiting at the doctor's office. Email them during your lunch break.

If we want to move beyond tired party soundbites, we have to show up and ask the tough questions ourselves. By doing so, we uphold the dream of democracy our founding fathers and mothers worked so hard to preserve.

Gaby Diaz is an English teacher in Houston.

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