Adventures in DC Part III - Canvassing for the Team
About a month and half before the election, the importance of it all struck me. I had never been involved with electoral politics – I never registered with a party in New York, and only did so in Maryland after I wasn't able to participate in the Democratic primary debacle. But despite my previous reluctance, I came to the realization that I should really Do Something in This Election. Considering my politics, it was obviously going to be for Obama. What I should do, I wasn't sure. But I signed up on Obama's site and waited. And when Gerri at my environmental group mentioned she was canvassing, I asked her for information too.

So through one of those sources – I'm not sure which one – I found myself standing outside of the Waterfront Metro station on three consecutive Sunday mornings in October. I had become a canvasser.

The first day was nerve-wracking. After meeting at the Metro station, we all piled into cars to drive 45 minutes to Manassas, Virginia. I drove with Eric, who was one of the main DC organizers, and Tim, his roommate. Arriving at the Manassas Obama headquarters, a cute little house covered in Obama signs and overflowing with volunteers, we listened to a short orientation. (Later on, we passed the McCain office, which was a boring storefront that no one was ever at. It was sort of pathetic.) The Manassas organizers walked us through our canvassing sheet, which involved asking people who they were voting for, saying thanks if it was McCain, giving them voting information if it was Obama, and offering policy information if they were still undecided. At this point in the election, we weren't trying to convince anyone to switch sides, so there weren't supposed to be any hard-core Republicans on our list. But as it was possible they slipped through, so we had to know what to do.

From there, we headed out to the suburbs. Our neighborhood for that day was a well-to-do development, with pretty, mostly-identical larger houses. It reminded me very much of home, actually. As I was quite nervous, I paired up with Eric, and did the first several houses with him. It was then that I realized the very long lists they gave us weren't as intimidating as they looked – most people weren't home. After about 5 or 6 houses, Eric told me to go off on my own, assuring me that I would be fine.

And I was. Although every time I rang the doorbell, I was half wishing someone was home to convince and I was half terrified of someone answering, it was pretty okay. Most people were polite, even the McCain supporters I happened upon by mistake. The number of polite/indifferent people was about evenly split between supporters of the two candidates. The only truly rude person I encountered over all 3 days of canvassing was one lady who announced to me that “I'm not voting!” and just about slammed the door in my face. I was rather surprised and confused at that one. But it was nothing like the angriness recounted to me by some canvassers that had worked on the campaign for several months. Instead, I had several very memorable positive encounters.

The first one was in the housing development on the first day. At first, it was obvious that the woman who answered the door didn't want to talk to me. She told me, in a slightly snippy way, that her husband (who was the one I was asking about) wasn't telling anyone who he was voting for. Like many other people I had spoken to, I smiled, thanked her, and wished her a good day. But just as I was starting to walk down her front stairs and she was about to close the door, she called out to me. “Why do you support him?” I turned around, and said, “He cares about and has good positions on two issues I care deeply about – climate change and poverty. I like his experience as a community organizer, because it meant he knows what it's like on the ground. A lot of politicians don't have that experience.” Still skeptical, but now definitely listening, she questioned, “Well, have you done any volunteer work, like in a soup kitchen, or given money to charities?” Of course, loving any chance given to talk about Maine, my eyes lit up and I started yakking away. I think she got more of a response than she expected. After listening a while about the glories of H.O.M.E., as well as my time in New York City, she said, “That's great that people like you and me do these things in our communities. But the President can't do anything about that.” Having put quite a bit of thought into these issues when I decided to canvass, I responded, “Of course, no politician can do the work on the ground. But they can create the framework that makes that work easier to do or have more impact. And that is very important. And I think Obama will create the best framework.” To this point, she nodded, and a look of understanding crossed her face. She smiled, far more friendly than before, and said, “Thanks. I hope you continue your community work.” I thanked her for listening, and wished her a good day. Although I know I didn't convince her – I'm sure she was a McCain supporter, or perhaps even indifferent – I do think that I bridged some gap. Whereas she was cold to me at first – just another spoiled liberal – we walked away with a greater mutual appreciation for each other. She knew that rather than depending on the government do everything, that I did care about my community and put time and effort into it. That we wanted many of the same things for our communities, although we may disagree on how they should get done. And I think in the long term, that understanding will be more worthwhile than five minutes of rattling off Obama's policy positions would be.

My second memorable experience was my second day of canvassing, with a lady who who wanted to support Obama – he had even been her senator when she lived in Illinois – but wasn't quite convinced. She said, “I like his ideas, but what has he done? I liked Jimmy Carter's ideas too.” Point taken. So I explained some of the bills he had passed, including an anti-nuclear proliferation one and an ethics reform one. I said that I couldn't remember them all off of the top of my head, but that if she checked out Obama's website, they were listed there. She listened patiently, accepted my literature, thanked me, and closed the door. Although not as feel-good as my other encounter, I liked that she wanted to know more about him before voting, instead of relying on slogans. She may not have had the time to look into it yet – I know I've waited until election day to look up the candidates – but democracy was important to her. Important enough to spend a few minutes of her day listening to a canvasser when she could have said, “No thank you,” and continued on. And I appreciated that. I know not everyone has the time to volunteer, but I do believe that everyone should make the time to inform themselves before voting.

Also, on that second day, I ran into a McCain canvasser. Awkward. She was a middle-aged, pleasant-looking, probably suburban, lady also holding a clipboard. As we had a few overlaps – people who had said they were undecided, I suppose – she pointed out what houses she had visited where people weren't home. After a brief-information sharing session, she said, “It's good that we're both doing our part for our country.” I nodded in agreement, wished her a good day, and walked in the opposite direction so I wouldn't have to run into her again. She was plenty nice, but it was just weird.

On my third day, I visited an apartment complex that was significantly less expensive than the wealthy housing development or the nice duplex communities that I visited on my first two ventures out. They were plain brick buildings, with the apartment doors opening onto the chilly air. My first several apartments belonged to elderly ladies, one of whom was quite friendly and voting for Obama already, another who declared she wasn't voting. But it was further on that I reached a lady who surprised me. She was a rather overweight, working-class, middle-aged woman, who looked like she was frequently very busy. She told me in an almost-lecturing way, “I'm an Obama supporter, even though I don't agree with him on everything.” I nodded, and then was pleasantly surprised to hear her say, “I'm a Republican, and I've always voted Republican, but I'm voting for him this time.” Smiling, I replied, “So is my mother-in-law! She said she'd rather vote for a real liberal than a fake conservative.” She nodded in agreement and said, “Yeah, he convinced me when I heard him say on some radio show that 'Not only do we have to clean up our cities, but people in them have to take responsibility for their neighborhoods.' I liked that he's telling people they have to take responsibility.” I said that I liked that about him too, and asked if she needed any information on voting. She laughed, and said, “No! I've been a poll judge for years, I know all about voting already!” Thrilled that she was already an active participant in democracy, I said, “That's great! I'm going to be a pollwatcher. It's so important that everything goes well and is organized on Election Day.” We talked a little while about our training and what we would be doing in our respective jobs. Eventually – as I didn't want to cut her off – I said that I had to continue on and left. But I was so glad to talk to her. First, that despite her party affiliation, she was willing to consider a candidate that shared many of her values and had good ideas, and secondly, that she was so dedicated to the idea of democracy. Being a poll judge requires a lot of training, and is kind of a pain. Especially this particular Election Day, with voter turnout expected to be exceptionally high.

The last memorable experience was later that same day, in that same complex. I knocked on the door – hardly anyone there had doorbells – and a short, Eastern European woman answered the door. I asked her who she was voting for, and she said, in a rather strong accent, “Oh, Obama. I didn't vote in the last election, and I really wished I had.” I offered information on where and when to vote, and she looked quite concerned. She said, “How do you vote? I've never done it before.” Then, seeming flustered that she hadn't asked already, she asked, “Do you want to come in? You must be tired. Is there anything I can get you?” Not wanting to turn down her very gracious offer, I came inside, but declined anything, even when she asked multiple times if I wanted anything to drink. Sitting on her couch, in her nicely-decorated apartment, I explained, “Most places use a touchscreen, where you touch the name of the candidate you want to vote for. I don't know exactly how your polling place does it, but they will explain it to you there.” She asked a few more questions, and I left her with information on her polling place, and a number to call if she wanted more assistance. And she was so grateful for this information that I felt incredibly honored to give it to her. She certainly treated me as an honored guest. Here she was, presumably an immigrant, so excited to vote in her adopted country. Again, it was democracy in action.

When I canvassed, I expected to find fulfillment in being part of the political, democratic process. To share policy ideas and information on how to vote. I figured that even if everyone slammed their doors in my faces, at least I tried. Unlike Bush's election and the Iraq War, I wouldn't regret not putting in my time and effort. But I never considered the possibility of encountering others (outside of my fellow canvassers) participating in this grand tradition with such interest and enthusiasm. From the very beginning – learning to vote – to the engaged citizen, to the protector of the very right to vote itself, I met people who not only cared about the future of our country, but put time and thought into their participation in that future. And being part of that bigger whole – seeing those people around me, even those I didn't agree with – was encouraging. As a result, regardless of how those particular citizens voted, my efforts were far from in vain. Because I think that I encouraged them too.

Although my personal insight grew each time I went out, the true weight of it all didn't hit me until Election Day itself. Lying on our couch, watching the returns come in, I cheered loudly when Virginia went blue. And finding out that many, many of those votes came from Manassas – far more Democratic votes than any other previous election – inspired a wide smile. Because the “Yes we can!” slogan turned into “Yes we did!” And it made me think that maybe this democracy thing actually does work.