Is anyone else interested in helping me organize such a treat? If we can get some bars behind it, I think it could be a fun way to both raise money and awareness for the campaign. The best bet for fundraising, I think, would be to charge a set fee for participation-- a portion of that would go to memoribilia of some sort: a t-shirt, button, or sticker stating our purpose; and the rest could go to the campaign and bar owners, if necessary.
I've never organized a bar crawl, though, so if someone else has more experience, I'd gladly take guidance. What do the rest of you think?
Despite that fact, I just spent two hours calling older voters in Roanoke County to find out which way they're leaning in the upcoming election.
The next thing to figure out is how to update my activity index to show that I've called. My stomach is still a cold knot of fear, and I don't think I can do that again. I probably will, though, despite my preference for strategizing. I did at least offer my employee discount to the field office.
This blog is disjointed because I'm still feeling a bit tense and nervous.
In conversations, my mother and I know well enough to skirt around the topic of this country's politics, and instead, if we're going to talk about world events, keep them international. In this way we've discussed our fears over Russia's invasion of Georgia, and the possibility of nuclear war. (In her honest, pre-Bush I Republican ways, she believes that mutual deterrence is still effective. Personally, in a century where the biggest conflict to date is between an established nation and a spectre, I'm not quite so certain.)
This discourse on any politics is new for us, and as with all new things I try to test the boundaries that I've established. This means stretching the conversations a little bit closer to home each time.
As the child of two hardline, old-school Republicans and sister of three enlisted-in-the-90s Air Force personnel (none of whom seem to have noticed that politics has changed drastically in the past fifteen years, let alone five), I enjoy the unique position in my family as filthy tree-hugging liberal.
My family is not without its sympathy, however. The 2004 elections were the first opportunity I had to vote, having anticipated the moment from the age of three when, while listening to the radio, my mother explained the answer to my question, "What's the president?" Because I was an on-campus student at the time, my local registrar's office (Salem, VA) did not allow me to register, and I sent off for an absentee ballot. I called my family in tears when it arrived, because it was clearly marked "Return by midnight, Thursday October 28th." It was Friday. Despite knowing full well who I would be voting for, my parents paid for me to fly home, so that I could cast that long-awaited ballot.
As you can see, my parents are reasonable and supportive people, in a number of ways. For that reason I am anticipating making the toughest campaigning phone call, to my father. While my mother and I have long since agreed that we can't talk politics without getting frustrated with one another (how can I help it, if she keeps quoting incorrect smear e-mails about Obama?), I know my father has some reasoning capabilities, and I feel as though I might, just might, be able to reach him.
