This is an opinion column.

U.S. Rep. Tom Bevill came home to Jasper during the Reagan years.

It was his 10th term in Congress, and I remember it only because it was my first year on the job. I was woefully unprepared to talk policy or politics.

But I didn’t have to, because he didn’t talk about that. He talked about how his constituents in northwest Alabama had been neglected when the interstate building boom began decades before. He spoke of Corridor X, the Birmingham to Memphis connector that, three decades later, would open as I-22.

I don’t remember much more of the conversation. When I walked away that day I didn’t know what he thought of national divides, or Reagan, or Iran-Contra.

But I walked away from my time in his district sure of two things: That guy cared about making the lives of his constituents better; and those constituents knew it in their bones.

I haven’t thought about Bevill in a while. Maybe because I haven’t happened by Bevill State or Bevill Lock and Dam or the Bevill Industrial Park or half a dozen more centers or buildings named for him and the pork he brought home.

But Bevill’s daughter, Patty Bevill Warren, today wrote an essay for AL.com that not only reminded me of her father, but by comparison shamed our current political flock.

It is worth the read. It is worth the thought.

She tells a story – relayed by an underling who would later become a well known judge – about how her dad once delayed a call with the Secretary of Defense in order to speak with a very average voter named Mrs. Brown.

“We work for Mrs. Brown,” Bevill told Jim Hughey at the time.

It is a striking truth. Or it was.

I’ve been collecting responses from the Congressional delegation and other politicians for months now, and there is little true conversation, other than talking points, defensive emails, lecturing and canned policy jargon.

RELATED: Patty Bevill Warren’s letter

As workers around Alabama worry how cuts at Social Security, NIH, NASA, the VA and everything else will affect their lives and futures, Sens. Katie Britt and Tommy Tuberville pose in social media posts with Elon Musk, the South African architect of the cuts to American life.

“Enjoyed meeting with @elonmusk and members of the Senate DOGE Caucus about ensuring hard-earned taxpayer dollars are utilized responsibly and transparently,” Britt posted as her own constituents tried to see through the confusion without answers.

At least Britt’s office does seem to respond to voters who beg her to think of constituents, though the responses I’ve read seem as if they were written by an AI writing tool developed by CPAC. They offer condescending fourth-grade civics lessons written in a style that, according to the Flesch-Kincaid grade level analysis, often reads at graduate school level in a state with an historically low literacy rate.

But hey, it’s better than Tuberville, who responds, often by form letter, to those who disagree.

“Your comment has been passed along to the appropriate staff member,” a recent letter said. “We appreciate your patience as we review your correspondence. If you are reaching out for assistance with casework or a federal agency, we will pass your message along to one of our caseworkers in the state.”

Being better than Tuberville is not a high standard. And it’s a far cry from Mrs. Brown.

Alabama needs real answers. Not pandering pics, form letters and opaque claims about transparency.

Alabama is a largely Republican state in a largely Republican nation in a very Republican moment. The Democrats are hapless, the courts stacked, the culture wars won and a foreign-born billionaire has access to America’s data.

But it is a scary time for a lot of people in Alabama. They worry about Social Security benefits, if not jobs, about children and neighbors and businesses and restaurants that survive because other people get paychecks.

They worry about careers in research, about the economic health of their communities, about the rise of White Nationalism or the tenuous nature of democracy or World War III.

Alabama doesn’t need political canoodling and more lip service about hot button issues. This is a state that receives more from the federal government than it pays in taxes, more in NIH grants than most states. It has a tax system that already disproportionately hurts those with the least money, and will suffer more from arbitrary cuts than most because its citizens struggle more than most.

We don’t need politicians to snuggle up to power and avoid constituents who have real questions.

We need them to come home to answer tough questions from real voters, in town halls or hearings that aren’t just partisan plays.

We need them to treat us all as if we are important. Like Mrs. Brown.

John Archibald is a two-time Pulitzer winner.