Praying with your Feet

I spent Sunday, September 28, 2008 in Pennsylvania with my friend Hope, canvassing and calling for Obama. A day that started out drizzly, built up to torrential rains on the drive down. Those abated a bit, just enough for us to start our canvassing in Edison, in what I call one of those townhouse McMansion communities. After going through our first round of doorbell ringing, the rains returned with a vengeance. We and our materials were getting absolutely drenched. So we decided to go back to the volunteer office in Doylestown, hoping the rain might let up enough for us to go out again.

So what did we accomplish/learn from this canvassing. Number one: lots of people won't be home. Number two: some people will close the door on you (politely, I'd say). Number three: some won't open the door, even though they're home, but you can't tell what they're saying to you from behind their closed door because the rain is too loud. Number four: some people might open their door, but tell you that they don't want to discuss their political views or presidential preferences. Number five: some people might tell you they embrace Obama wholeheartedly, but it's going to be an uphill climb with their neighbors. Number six: someone might be the wrong person, having just moved in and still being unregistered at that address, but engage you in a lengthy conversation nonetheless, getting stuck on the "lipstick on a pig" comment. You'll learn that this person has a son who did two tours of duty in Iraq, that he really would like to see a woman in the White House, that he's not at all concerned about McCain's age and Palin's inexperience, that he thought McCain cleaned Obama's clock during the debate, but that he's still undecided and that we gave him food for thought.

We then wound up making calls back at the volunteer office. Again, lots of people not home. One committed McCain supporter. One man angry that I was calling after someone came by his house the day before. "You people are ruining my life!" he shouted. Seemed like a bit of an overreaction to me, but you get what you get (and you shouldn't get upset) when you canvass or call. Got a wife on one call when I was looking for her husband. She said it was ok to ask her husband's views. Her characterization: "If he doesn't vote for Obama, he's going to be divorced." And then she agreed to volunteer for the campaign, since her husband's work schedule won't permit him to.

On to an undecided voter. I'm sure I broke the time-on-task rules, but I must have had this woman on the phone for a good half hour. Too much ground covered then to recap here. But suffice it to say that I touched on every imaginable issue, and brought up every little personal tidbit I thought might matter: my nephew at West Point; my sister-in-law who survived the '93 and '01 attacks on the World Trade Center; the fact that I have a special needs child, left my job (and its attendant health and dental benefits) to spend more time caring for him and his siblings, and therefore shifted the burden of providing health care for our family to my husband and his small business. In the end, she said that I gave her a lot to think about. Maybe that's a failure, since I didn't move her squarely over to Obama, but I'm not sure anyone could have done more than I did. I even followed up with a note and some policy info. from the campaign. The head of the volunteer office thought my note was so good that he made a copy to post on the office bulletin board for others to use as a model. Maybe that's a victory of sorts. Who knows? At least it's a contribution...

That Sinking Feeling

I'm trying to be optimistic. I'm trying to imagine a wave of sanity and decency sweeping across this country and carrying with it Barack Obama, all the way to the White House. But I've been disappointed too often by the decisions of my supposed countrymen, by their answering the calls of their lesser angels. I'm afraid to be too hopeful and this time, it won't be garden-variety disappointment I'll be wrestling with if he loses. It'll be a crushing blow to all that I care about and value about this country that I was born in, and to which my father came as an immigrant/refugee.

But also not wanting to sit on the sidelines and bitch, I filled out some forms to volunteer with Obama's campaign. I'm willing to go to other states for him and make his case. I'm not sure they'll take me (they seem to require a five-week commitment), but we'll see. As a mother of three children (one of whom is autistic), I guess I'm just not the heroic everymom that Sarah Palin is. Were I she, I could not only kill defenseless animals with high powered weapons, prod my local librarian to remove books from the shelves and then threaten to fire her when she refuses (only to be called off by a local uproar against the move), hire my high school classmates for government jobs for which they're patently unqualified, threaten my ex-brother-in-law's boss with the loss of his job because my bro-in-law's being a meanie to my sister and the boss won't ax him, and tout my fiscal conservative bona fides by highlighting the fact that I put the state's plane up for sale on ebay. (Oops! Forget to mention that nobody bid and I sold it at a $600,000 loss to an Alaskan businessman.) If I were even half the moral/fiscal/family hero Palin is, I could leave my family for five weeks to campaign for the man I desperately want to see win. Since I'm not, I'll just have to live with my many shortcomings.

Of Babies and Bombs

Perhaps the only thing to say about the news that Sarah Palin's 17-year old daughter is five months pregnant is: imagine the reaction if the pregnant minor were Barack and Michele Obama's 17-year old daughter...