Tonight I completed my first batch of Neighbor to Neighbor phone calls, 25 in all. I will call another 50 tomorrow. I chose Colorado because of the 2-hr time difference and because it is a key battleground state in this election. I also have some affinity for Coloradoans: I used to camp near Colorado Springs as a teen and near Fort Collins as an adult. I have spent hours in the Denver airport waiting for the weather to clear so I could get back to Chicago. That, and that one of my BFF's lives in Denver, makes me an "almost Coloradoan." I can relate.
So, how was it? Not bad. Mostly I left messages telling people where to find their polling place and the hours of operation. The hard part was leaving my reasons for voting for the Obama Campaign for Change in a voicemail soundbite. Should I share the political reasons, the philosophical reasons, or the common sense reasons? Could I get them all in?
Not sure, I plugged away at it anyway, leaving messages that were a little herky-jerky on the "how come" side but clearly leaving people with a call to action, to vote as if their life and life as we once knew it depended upon it. Because I believe it does.
This political apparatus of ours has become more than moribund. I remember being inspired by Jack and Bobby Kennedy, by the idea of a Peace Corps where even I could be an ambassador and give of my talents and abilities. I was inspired by the young men and women who went into the South by the busloads to teach in Freedom Schools so young black children could learn to read and write. And I was inspired by the courage of those who were undaunted in the face of billy clubs and waterhoses and death, and by the leadership--albeit reluctant for some-- of lawmakers who passed the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts.
No doubt about it, there have been other times when my heart stirred at the promise of what this country could be as a force for good. I could go on with a long litany but what would be the purpose of that? The point is that somewhere along the way I became resigned and cynical about what's possible for that America, probably right about the time that Jimmy Carter was defeated.
I wasn't inspired by Bill Clinton, but I was hopeful and intrigued. I admired his ability to make complex things understandable for the simplest of us. He was charming and even his enemies loved him. What could have been an extraordinary presidency turned into tabloid fodder. Deeds perhaps forgiven, but never forgotten.
I was an early supporter of Hillary Clinton even though I wasn't sure she could win "the big one". Still, I hung in there because I thought she'd earned the right to have her shot at history. And, sisterhood is powerful. Still, something was missing; and even though my friends and family were early Barach Obama supporters, I held out. I was burned out on hope and change, and change for the sake of change wouldn't make me want to leave from my armchair in the stands. Transformation might.
Somewhere along the way, I allowed myself to venture into that rarified air called hope. Maybe it was the debates, where the Senator went from the off-the-rack suits and perriennial blue and white striped tie he always seemed to wear to those infamous $1500 2-button suits and beautiful ties that made him look as elegant as he is eloquent. The more "presidential" he became, the more hopeful and inspired I became. Inspire: to breathe life into me, you, us, our political system. Now that's transformative, and change I can believe in. I'm prepared to go to work to see that it happens.
And that's what I'll be leaving in my next voicemail soundbite messages.
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