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My legs hurt, my feet are aching, my back is killing me, and I’m pretty sure I’ve caught a cold. That, and 75 doors knocked on, sums up my trip to Reno Nevada yesterday.
On Saturday night, of course, I had a corporate party for an architectural firm, so of course that meant a 15 hour day, and a great time had by one and all, except for the DJ, who as usual was thinking, I’m way too old for this shit.
Since I had to work on Saturday, I missed the big December 15th canvas day, so Sunday the 16th was catch up day. Nancy, another Edwards volunteer, and me decided to go up the next day and see what we could do for the campaign. Saturday would have been great to see though, at one point I was told they had 74 people in the Reno office, union people, volunteers and just a few staffers, knocked on hundreds, and hundreds of doors. I’ve been in that office many times, I know the sofa well, and I had a hard time picturing 74 souls crammed into that small space. But they did it, and they did it to get the word out.
We left Sacramento by 7:30 am, and made it to Reno in good time.
A brief aside here; volunteering for a campaign is one thing, taking your life into your hands, by getting into a car driven by Nancy, is another thing all together. She is a brilliant, accomplished woman, who has worked in the same room as Walter Cronkite, and she was an intern for the Robert Kennedy senate office in New York, but as a driver, not so much. But she does have the hybrid, and my big old van is constantly needed at my real life job. And I kid. The trip was great, and as always Nancy had great stories and invaluable information.
We stopped at the store and Nancy picked up some bagels and cream cheese, along with some frozen enchiladas for the staff. Remember, this is the Edwards campaign, we don’t have a lot of money, and everyone here pitches in what they can to help. Later that day, I bought some clipboards because the office is dreadfully short of them. It’s called grassroots, and I learn more about it everyday, from this diligent campaign, and its dedicated people.
The mood at the Reno Headquarters was upbeat, casual as always, and determined. Brandon was there, a young staff member that has spent most of his time at the Las Vegas headquarters, and was in Reno helping for the weekend; tomorrow he’ll head back to Vegas. We got to see Carter, Michelle, and Liam again, which is always great. We spent a few minutes catching up, they thanked Nancy for the beagles and began tearing in. And for the record, none of them looked hung over, well maybe Carter, a bit.
Liam gave us our marching orders, and we were off to Sparks Nevada, a suburb of Reno. So of course we were hopelessly lost in about 15 minutes of pulling away from the office. But it worked out, like things often do, and we found ourselves, quite by accident I’m sure, on Santa Barbara St, where our door knocking would begin. My canvass package was 21b, typically for me the odd side of the street, about 35 houses in all. Voters names, some with issues listed, some with a favored candidate already listed. I was ready.
The neighborhood in Sparks was a wonderful representation of middle class America. And let me tell you, these people love their dogs. They love Afghan Hounds and the occasional Maltese, they are enamored with mutts and pure breeds alike. I saw one fellow walking three fat little Dachshunds at one time. The sounds of birds fluttering and chirping and dogs barking their commentaries form back yards filled the winter day.
It was a clear and blue, with snow from the last fall still on the ground on the shaded, west side of the street. For a California boy, even with the sun out, it was plenty chilly. But the people, yes the people of Nevada for the most part, were warm, and genuine, in marked contrast to the sharp coolness of the afternoon.
Of course, on a Sunday afernoon, the majority of Democratic voters on my list weren’t at home, and then of course, there were the ones who were polite at a distance, letting me know they were quite capable of making up their own minds, without any help from me. I only spoke to one man, who told me from the other side of his screen door, quite sharply, that he was not interested, and the best way to get his vote was to leave him alone.
(Note to all campaigns: If you want his vote, leave him alone. Never call him, and whatever you do, don’t knock on this guys door. Do these things, er I think I mean, don’t do these things, and he is yours for the asking. As long as you don’t do anything as silly as actually asking him.)
But everyone that has phone banked, tabled, or canvassed knows, there are those splendid diamonds in the rough. The voters with questions. The voters with issues. For me? A curious voter is a terrible thing to waste.
Two friendly senior sisters, asked for a reminder of the caucus date, time and place, which I had ready for them, and they promised to be there for Edwards. I stressed being a part of something historical as Nevada’s first primary caucus, and there was excitement in their eyes. A gracious retired man invited me into his home to show me some of the most beautiful paintings and sculptures I had ever seen. Ferries, goddesses, nudes and imps adorned the walls. Where there were no paintings on the walls, set always in ornate frames, the walls themselves were adorned. Paintings of a classic Greek themes and décor. It was like being in a museum or a temple.
“My wife,” He was speaking of the artist, his one and only for more than fifty years, “Sees a blank wall as a canvas.” When they moved in more than nine years ago, he remembered, they rented scaffolding and she did almost the entire house.
When I asked him who he supported. His eyes met mine, clear and blue, he said, “Edwards, of course.”
I asked him why.
“I was brought up to care about the poor.”
It was that simple.
I met a caucus chair who was for Edwards, and when his wife yelled “Obama” at us from their living room, I happily invited her into the discussion, and boy did she happily join in. I have to tell you, these are my favorite kind of people in the world. I call them The Engagers, whatever the issue, weather I agree with them or note, I love these people the most over any others. They engage you. They ask questions, they are never shy with their point of view.
We spoke for a few minutes, standing there on the porch of their middle class home, it was festooned with the décor of the holiday season, after a moment, one of her first questions gave me an opening.
“What’s his stance on GLBT issues?” And we were on the race from there, the recent endorsement from the New Hampshire gay rights group carried a lot of weight with her. She listened. She asked about healthcare, and I gave her an issue statement about the Edwards healthcare plan, which she looked over as we continued to talk. In the few minutes I was there, I changed a mind.
“Obama does have the coolest t-shirts.” She commented as I left.
I agreed with her.
I met a guy who said anyone but Hillary, because he was convinced she killed Vince Foster. Yes, he seemed in control of his faculties, no I did not agree with him. This guy was a life long Democrat. I left, kind of shaking my head, and looking over my shoulder for black helicopters. Then there was the man with the life size portrait of Babs at he apex of staircase in his foyer, told me he had not yet made up his mind.
I can’t, as it’s often said, make this stuff up.
The sun was setting, and the cold was really starting to set in, and after helping Nancy finish a couple of houses on the even side of the street, our day in Sparks Nevada was at an end. Nancy told me of an undecided woman, who wanted to make a donation to the Edwards campaign by the time she finished talking to her. Many nice Nevadans invited her into their homes.
We were back at the office by about 5:30, where we found Liam, Michelle, and Carter hard at work on the phones, Brandon was concentrating on his computer screen. We told our optimistic stories, and they listened in between calls. It was good to come back and find these young enthusiastic people still so hard at work.
“The feedback in the field and on the phones, it’s all very, very good.” When we spoke with Carter he was extremely positive. “If we do well in Iowa and New Hampshire, we call win in Nevada.”
I told him I’d quote him, and he told me to go ahead.
But it was growing late, and we still had a long voyage ahead of us, down through the Sierra Mountains, into the foothills and beyond into the great Sacramento Valley. I was home by 9 pm, and on line, reading Old Caruso’s dazzling account of his trip to Iowa, by 9:30. Happy and tired, my reward was a good day, and a great post from a fellow Edwards supporter. DU, as dysfunctional as it is, feels sometimes like home. Hell this very inherent dysfunction, is probably why it feels like home.
I don’t care, as I’ve said before, who you support. Only my candidate can change who I support. But if you’re not out there, getting involved, in any way you can, then all you’re doing is, well, typing. So again, I ask, what have you done today to support your candidate? Yester day, we knocked on 75 doors.
Peace.
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