Jamie: When I got back from the impeachment trial, the neighbors had put up all these lovely signs thanking us, and quotes from me at the trial and stuff like that. It was very unlike where I had grown up in the suburbs of Chicago. I hadn’t ever seen a town like this before, these Victorian houses and big old trees that completely create this canopy, a refuge. Sarah: We’re in the same house that we started in. We’re creatures of habit, so we fit right in, and our kids always loved it. I thought it’s really a storybook community. Our public school was right up the street, and the parents would meet at the corner with their coffee to walk the kids to school and catch up. Everybody lives for the Fourth of July and Halloween and the soccer league and the baseball league and going to the farmers market. It’s got progressive family values, it’s a very kid-oriented community. Takoma Park is really an old-fashioned town, and that’s what we were looking for. Jamie: When I got back here and started teaching, Sarah and I started asking people, what would be a great place for us to live? Everybody said you’ve got to go check out Takoma Park. How did you come to settle in Montgomery County? I kept going back to the library at that point, bringing her chocolate brownies or ice cream or whatever I could find I had no money. I just wanted to know because I did dream about you last night.’ So that was the beginning of our friendship. My heart started to beat, and then I said, ‘Hi.’ And she said, ‘Hi.’ And then she said, ‘What’s your name?’ And I said, ‘Jamie.’ And she said, ‘Oh good. I was in the library coming down the stairs, and Sarah was coming up the stairs and we passed each other. We didn’t actually meet until the end of the semester. And I used to go basically just to look at Sarah, and I could have sworn she was looking right back at me the whole time, but it turns out that she didn’t have her contact lenses in. We were both in the same constitutional law class and we sat across from each other in this huge, cavernous lecture hall. Jamie: Sarah was in her third year, an older woman. Now a visiting professor at Duke Law School, she graduated from Amherst College before attending Harvard Law, where the couple met. Sarah, 60, has held a string of high-level jobs, including as a governor of the Federal Reserve system and deputy treasury secretary under President Barack Obama. So it is not surprising that he married one. “I grew up as a feminist kid because I was surrounded by strong, intelligent women,” Raskin says. His mother, Barbara, wrote an influential feminist novel, Hot Flashes, which was on the New York Times’ bestseller list for four months. His father, Marcus, was a major figure in the anti-war movement of the 1960s. Jamie, 58, grew up in Washington and attended Georgetown Day School before going on to Harvard for his undergraduate and law degrees. “It gave me a sense of calm and a sense of purpose about what we were doing.” “As I kept saying through the trial, I had no doubt that Tommy Raskin was with me in my heart the whole time,” he says. Jamie and Sarah published a lengthy essay about their son’s death in January, and now Jamie is writing a book about the events of the last few months. Trump’s Senate trial in February ended in his acquittal, but Raskin’s eloquent speeches, and his emotional invocation of his son’s memory, converted him from a relatively obscure third-term congressman to a national figure. Six days after the insurrection, House Democrats voted to pursue the impeachment of President Donald Trump, and Raskin-a former professor of constitutional law at American University whose district covers about half of Montgomery County-was named the lead manager of the effort. We lost one of the three people most precious to us, and we discovered the precariousness of democracy itself.” In that period of about a week, a lot of basic pillars of my existence were demolished. Jamie says the confluence of the two events-the suicide of their son and the storming of the Capitol-has left an indelible mark: “We experienced the violent attack on Congress and the insurrection against the government, which was a public trauma to accompany our family trauma. Jamie, Tabitha and Hank had gone to the Capitol to witness the ceremonial counting of the Electoral College ballots making Joe Biden president. “I was thinking, has my life taken this dramatic turn where I’m going to be losing my entire family?” Now, Jamie, the couple’s daughter Tabitha, and their daughter Hannah’s husband, Hank Kronick, were all at the Capitol, threatened by a menacing mob. Jamie Raskin, had buried their 25-year-old son, Tommy. Just the day before, she and her husband, Rep. 6, Sarah Bloom Raskin was home in Takoma Park watching the assault against the U.S. Sarah and Jamie Raskin with their dog Toby at home in Takoma Park.
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