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Reflections from Capitol Hill: Climate advocacy and a moonshot mindset

Hundreds of CCL volunteers pose for a group photo on the steps of Capitol Hill

CCL volunteers on the Capitol steps for our annual group photo

Reflections from Capitol Hill: Climate advocacy and a moonshot mindset

By CCL volunteer Joel McKinnon

Each year, several hundred Citizens’ Climate Lobby volunteers travel to Washington, D.C., at their own expense to participate in CCL’s Summer Conference and Lobby Day, holding hundreds of meetings with legislators on Capitol Hill. This year, for the first time, I decided to join them. By the time it was over, I was left with a renewed sense of possibility—not only in what we can accomplish as climate advocates, but in how we connect as human beings in this critical work.

A white man with gray hair wears a black suit, a lanyard around his neck, and holds a folder of materials. The U.S. Capitol is in the background.

Joel McKinnon

Let’s start with the basics: I was there, suit and all. A rented one, to be exact. Somewhere between the personal awkwardness of being dressed like a businessman and the shoes that quickly turned into instruments of mild torture, I found myself reflecting on how odd and wonderful it is to do something so uncomfortable for something that matters so much. Climate work is rarely glamorous, but it does have moments of unexpected grace, and this event brought many.

Our meetings on the Hill were thoughtful, serious, and at times, deeply human. In Rep. Sam Liccardo’s office, there was a striking constellation of personal stories: a mother and daughter speaking with grace and clarity, a Spanish teacher reconnecting serendipitously with a former student who now serves on the congressional staff, and a husband and wife seasoned in CCL advocacy grounding the conversation with perspective and calm purpose. The discussion was energized, sincere, and open to meaningful dialogue.

The conversation with Rep. Jerry Panetta’s aide was similarly warm, frank, and collaborative. Our team was received with a sense of familiarity, a quiet nod to the long-term relationships we’ve built. The staffer’s stories of late-night phone calls during past legislative efforts, and her reflections on political realities, revealed the emotional labor behind policy work and the role we play as trusted outside partners.

But advocacy wasn’t the only kind of connection this trip offered.

I also carved out time for a different kind of fuel: reconnecting with people who’ve been part of my journey. I met up with my brother in Pittsburgh before the trip to watch my hometown team play baseball. I spent time with Tobias, a friend I’d met online and finally met in person in Philadelphia. And in D.C., I reunited with Darryl, an old bandmate and drummer, who took me on an inspiring side trip the Sunday before the conference.

We spent the afternoon at the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, where the Wright Brothers exhibit and the Race to the Moon wing stopped me in my tracks. One particular multimedia piece explored the cultural and political tensions of the 1960s — civil rights, war, economic disparity — all unfolding alongside an unprecedented effort of human collaboration and technical innovation that culminated in landing a person on the moon. It framed the moonshot not as a solitary feat, but as a symphony of effort from thousands of unsung contributors.

Standing there, I couldn’t help but draw the parallel to our climate crisis. The space race wasn’t just about rockets. It was about will, imagination, and urgency. It required us to act across divides, invent new technologies, and, most importantly, believe we could do something no one had done before.

That exhibit, quiet, moving, and brilliantly assembled, reminded me that the path ahead on climate isn’t hopeless. It’s just hard. But we as a people have done hard things, nearly impossible things, before.

So yes, I’ll remember the talking points. But I’ll also remember the aching shoes, the laughter with friends, the warmth of a chance hallway encounter, and that lingering feeling I had standing next to the Apollo capsule. We can do this if we have the will, the spirit, and the desire to put in the work it takes. This trip gave me a sense of what’s possible when all seems chaotic and confused. We are still a government of, by, and for the people. And we have to reach further than ever before to do the right thing for the future of the planet we live on.

Joel McKinnon is a volunteer in CCL’s San Mateo, California, chapter.