Thursday, October 30, 2008
Trail Tales.
I'm canvassing for the Obama campaign in the inner city this week. Here is an interaction from yesterday.
As I approach the door, I hear the familiar interaction of barking dogs, and a yelling owner, "Shut up!" My papers tell me that I'll be speaking with a 20 year-old girl who already has her absentee ballot.
She shyly opens the door and comes onto the front porch. I do my regular spiel about how I'm a volunteer and I was wondering if she had decided who she's voting for.
She points at my brochures and asks, "Him?"
Uh oh, I think, I don't want her to try to please me, to tell me what I want to hear. I ask her some follow up questions, tell her why I'm supporting Obama and ask her again if she is voting for Obama.
"I'm voting for whoever my mom votes for. And she doesn't like that McCain guy," she says. Another uh oh goes through my body, one bigger than an election choice. I wonder how many people follow in their parents' political and idealogical footsteps. I ignore it and move on.
"Have you received your absentee ballot?" I ask.
She excuses herself into the house and returns with an unopened envelope. "Is that what this is?"
I explain to her the timing of returning her absentee ballot. "You should sit down with your mom and fill it out tonight, and get it in the mail tomorrow."
It was clear that the girl did not want to leave the front porch, so I continue. "You know, voting for President is a very exciting thing. I remember the first time I voted for President. I didn't get who I wanted, but I was very proud to have cast my vote. I'm really excited for you," I tell her.
"Do you know who I wish was running for President?"
"Who?"
"God."
I fall in love with this girl right then. "You know, in a way, God is already President. Of the entire world."
"You know you're pretty brave," she tells me.
"How so?" I ask. Because I'm talking to strangers about their political beliefs? Because I'm walking alone in this neighborhood? Because I actually believe - perhaps for the first time - that a President might be able to encourage positive change in our world?
"You're walking out here in the cold," she says, "I haven't gotten used to this cold since I moved here from Florida six years ago."
"Thank you," I say, "It's worth it."
I'm canvassing for the Obama campaign in the inner city this week. Here is an interaction from yesterday.
As I approach the door, I hear the familiar interaction of barking dogs, and a yelling owner, "Shut up!" My papers tell me that I'll be speaking with a 20 year-old girl who already has her absentee ballot.
She shyly opens the door and comes onto the front porch. I do my regular spiel about how I'm a volunteer and I was wondering if she had decided who she's voting for.
She points at my brochures and asks, "Him?"
Uh oh, I think, I don't want her to try to please me, to tell me what I want to hear. I ask her some follow up questions, tell her why I'm supporting Obama and ask her again if she is voting for Obama.
"I'm voting for whoever my mom votes for. And she doesn't like that McCain guy," she says. Another uh oh goes through my body, one bigger than an election choice. I wonder how many people follow in their parents' political and idealogical footsteps. I ignore it and move on.
"Have you received your absentee ballot?" I ask.
She excuses herself into the house and returns with an unopened envelope. "Is that what this is?"
I explain to her the timing of returning her absentee ballot. "You should sit down with your mom and fill it out tonight, and get it in the mail tomorrow."
It was clear that the girl did not want to leave the front porch, so I continue. "You know, voting for President is a very exciting thing. I remember the first time I voted for President. I didn't get who I wanted, but I was very proud to have cast my vote. I'm really excited for you," I tell her.
"Do you know who I wish was running for President?"
"Who?"
"God."
I fall in love with this girl right then. "You know, in a way, God is already President. Of the entire world."
"You know you're pretty brave," she tells me.
"How so?" I ask. Because I'm talking to strangers about their political beliefs? Because I'm walking alone in this neighborhood? Because I actually believe - perhaps for the first time - that a President might be able to encourage positive change in our world?
"You're walking out here in the cold," she says, "I haven't gotten used to this cold since I moved here from Florida six years ago."
"Thank you," I say, "It's worth it."
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Oh My God.
I just returned from a Women's Club meeting, the social engagement where nine times a year, I step outside of my comfort zone to eat a three course meal with women who love talking about home renovations, their grandchildren and what it was like to wear white gloves while being courted.
Today was a meaningful day for two reasons.
For the first time in my two-year (three-year?) women's club history, I wore jeans to a meeting. I'm fairly certain that a significant amount of murmuring about young women and their utter disregard for decorum took place at other tables, and will continue to take place in many perfectly-decorated homes this evening. My answer to these grumblings? At least I took off my retro Obama pin.
The other poignant part of the meeting was the closing, um, statement by our guest speaker, a local news anchor, C*bot Rea. After thirty minutes of an interesting talk about media, news bias, the internet and the future of news, he closed with, well, a song. I guess good ol' Mr. Rea used to be a music teacher before he climbed the ranks of the local media to tell us (or tell someone) about the days shootings.
I only had one person with whom to roll my eyes as he took out the boom box and prepared to impress us with his on-key vocal performance of Joshua Groban's "You Raise Me Up." Loretta, my fellow book club friend and democrat, smiled at me knowingly as I shot a desperate, "What the fuck is this?" look at her as he sang.
And so I'm safely back in my office, where jeans are appropriate and I don't have to listen to the details of someone's new kitchen cabinets. But the words and images will be stuck in my mind for the rest of the day. There he was, Mr. Rea, famous news guy, holding his arms out to the women's club while lovingly singing, "You lift me up, so that I can stand on mountains."
I never knew that the women's club meant so much to him. Also, I'm a cynical bitch with no heart and no appreciation for a little midweek inspirational song.
The end.
I just returned from a Women's Club meeting, the social engagement where nine times a year, I step outside of my comfort zone to eat a three course meal with women who love talking about home renovations, their grandchildren and what it was like to wear white gloves while being courted.
Today was a meaningful day for two reasons.
For the first time in my two-year (three-year?) women's club history, I wore jeans to a meeting. I'm fairly certain that a significant amount of murmuring about young women and their utter disregard for decorum took place at other tables, and will continue to take place in many perfectly-decorated homes this evening. My answer to these grumblings? At least I took off my retro Obama pin.
The other poignant part of the meeting was the closing, um, statement by our guest speaker, a local news anchor, C*bot Rea. After thirty minutes of an interesting talk about media, news bias, the internet and the future of news, he closed with, well, a song. I guess good ol' Mr. Rea used to be a music teacher before he climbed the ranks of the local media to tell us (or tell someone) about the days shootings.
I only had one person with whom to roll my eyes as he took out the boom box and prepared to impress us with his on-key vocal performance of Joshua Groban's "You Raise Me Up." Loretta, my fellow book club friend and democrat, smiled at me knowingly as I shot a desperate, "What the fuck is this?" look at her as he sang.
And so I'm safely back in my office, where jeans are appropriate and I don't have to listen to the details of someone's new kitchen cabinets. But the words and images will be stuck in my mind for the rest of the day. There he was, Mr. Rea, famous news guy, holding his arms out to the women's club while lovingly singing, "You lift me up, so that I can stand on mountains."
I never knew that the women's club meant so much to him. Also, I'm a cynical bitch with no heart and no appreciation for a little midweek inspirational song.
The end.
