Bobbing Along

What the hell happened?

I mean, really, what happened to this country?

I had asked that question many times a day for far too many days. That I was not a fan of the current administration should shock no one although the fact that many of you are still supporters shocks the bejeezus out of me. Railing against the news—flipping the bird at the tv screen or, occasionally, throwing socks—had failed to quell my rage.

It slowly occurred to me that I had to do something constructive. I could no longer leave the work to other nameless, faceless souls with more conviction. My excuses were no longer valid. If I wanted change, I had to be willing to work for it. And change is the one thing I want—change to the civility, the clarity and the caring (also the honesty, the intelligence, the inclusiveness…) that seemed to hallmark the previous administration.

By some twist of fate, I had been invited to a “meet-and-greet” social one day this past summer. This social was hosted by a former teacher whom I had admired for so long and I admit that my attendance at this social was fueled more by the chance of seeing her again than by a conscious interest in meeting the candidate. So I went.

Suddenly I found myself in the right place at the right time, asking the right questions and receiving the right answers. I was sold. I was hooked. And I was committed to being an on-the-ground grunt: knocking on strangers’ doors seeking signatures and hustling for votes. And it has been glorious.

Fully aware that I was interrupting dinners (and very possibly more than one doozer of an argument), I was regularly greeted with “HELL YES! WHERE DO I SIGN?”

Of course, I was also greeted by carefully shifted curtains that were not followed by an open door. And that scenario was still better than another canvasser who was greeted by an elderly man. A completely naked elderly man. So, no, the process was not all warm and fuzzy. (Well, except for the old man…)

I found that I was not alone in my anger. I was not alone in my worry. Many times, especially during one snow storm (we are a stubborn bunch, we Democrats) when I was brought into the home for the very purpose of listening to someone else’s concerns. Though these folks were “preaching to the choir”, they also gave me a warm reprieve from the elements.

There was one husband who wasn’t ready to sign anything; he just needed to research the candidates first. Fine. No problem. Perfectly valid. Yet as he was telling me this, his wife thundered down the stairs and burst—barefoot—onto the snowy porch, saying “I’LL SIGN!! I’LL SIGN! I don’t know what the hell his problem is, but I’ll SIGN!!”

In another home, the husband signed but was reluctant to interrupt his wife who was in the shower. Understandable, right? She must have had great hearing because as I was beginning to leave, here she came, head wrapped in a towel and body wrapped in a terrycloth robe. She perched on their steps and shared her grievances as she signed the petition. There was quite a puddle by the time our conversation ended.

A few weeks ago, my candidate started a tv ad describing his views on the issue of gun control. Trust me when I tell you that this is one hot-button issue in my area. Prior to canvassing that day, we were told that there was some controversy (surprise!) about his ad and we were given an explanation to help with any confusion over his stance.

Of course, I failed to read it. Frankly, I didn’t give it a second thought until later that day when one homeowner asked, “Is this the guy with the tv ad about guns?” 

Shit! What do I do now? And as I began to babble something completely unintelligible (and likely inaccurate), he reached and grabbed my clipboard, shouting “He’s got my vote! It’s about time someone does something about guns in this country!!”

Today we vote. My heart rests easier knowing that there are many who share my thoughts and who strive for change. Shortly, as I hurry to finish this, I will leave to work the polls until they close. And then I will wait in the hopes that my guy wins this stage of the process.

In the meantime, I have been given so much through this experience. I’ve received hugs. And validation. I’ve shared laughs with strangers. I have listened to concerns from folks with more to lose than I could ever have imagined. And, as thunder rolled through the sky last evening, I left my last house with a gift:

I am not certain where I’ll place the sticker but the pin? The pin I am wearing with pride!!