Several Elevens

Tuesday, September 11, 2012:   

      

       I’m taking a little time off to remember that tragic 11^th  eleven years ago, but also the infinitely happier whir of the past eleven days here in Florida..

Had I not just counted it out mentally, I’d have said I’ve been here for several months—and yet, time is flying. The days are so packed, tumbling one atop the other that I find myself wondering “when was that?” so much has happened since then--and realizing that whatever it was happened the day before.

Proof of the crammed days is that I find myself saying something I never in this life thought I’d utter: I don’t have time to read! I find it incredible, but painfully true. I am reading The Moonstone by Wilkie Collins—a delicious contrast to the busyness of the days, but I manage about a page—not even a single % forward                                          on my Kindle—before I fall asleep.

So far, I’ve done a variety of things from voter registration to phone banking to emptying trash cans to trying to remember when meals were a regular event to delivering completed voter registration forms to the courthouse in Clearwater (where I saw one of the more exotic and chilling sights of the week: a bus owned by the Scientologists--they own much of downtown Clearwater-- disgorging several dozen young men, all dressed precisely alike, all built the same way, all with the same haircuts, all with beepers and no expression moving resolutely toward I don’t know what. Truly scary. It’s one thing to see Tom Cruise jump on a sofa and quite another to see this small army of zombies) to going to a ‘watch party’ during the DNC (and wasn’t that splendid?) to handing out water bottles for four hours so that nobody fainted while President Obama spoke to a crowd of 11,000 this past Saturday. (I have also obviously learned to write exhaustingly long sentences.)

The president’s visit was, of course, the highlight, even though I only actually saw him through the crowd for a nanosecond.

Before the event, I went down to the site twice to help distribute the tickets, which were free. (They were being given out at other sites in the county as well.) When two of us arrived an hour before we’d begin the distribution, we were greeted by tv camera trucks and an enormous line that snaked around the campus, around a building and all of this in 90 degree heat.

No one complained. Not one person who finally reached us uttered a grumpy word. They clutched their tickets and thanked us. 

Parents brought young children who glowed when they were told they’d see the President. People whose accents suggested the long road they’d taken to get to this country and day felt the need to explain to me—passionately—why Mr. Obama had to be re-elected. The only sadness was when we repeated the distribution the next morning with the remaining tickets from the entire county and ran out before we ran out of people.

The event was a happy one even though I had to get up at 4 a.m. for it. People started camping out on the sidewalk at 2 a.m. so that they’d get to stand close up (seats on the field only for the disabled) People without tickets were also lined up by 5 a.m. just to see the motorcade. We’d been trained the night before, so I was pretty expert with those water bottles (Oh, the skills I'm learning and the glamor of this Fellowship!) when the ticket holders began to be admitted around 8 a.m.

We waited for the predicted major thunderstorms and happily, they didn’t happen. It was 90 degrees or more, but everybody waited without incident for hours while more and more people poured in. There were spontaneous cheers of “four more years!” And “All fired up!” and a general good feeling. (And lots of water—did I mention water?)

It’s hard to describe the buoyancy, the excitement, the delight on faces even after they’d endured the long, long lines and security checks. This is how much it mattered to people: I saw several seeing-eye dogs guiding their owners, people in wheelchairs, people with ALS, people with oxygen tanks and walkers and even one man brought in on a gurney. The passion to hear and be near the president—and to be near people who shared that passion--was overwhelming.

I haven’t yet managed a day off, have become  expert at the water bottle thing, entering data, and learning how to get around a little more successfully (but I am still eternally grateful for the car’s GPS.) I continue to be impressed with the organizational savvy of the Obama team and most of all, with the dedication and yes, I need to use the word passion again, of the Obama people, on the team or not.  Yesterday, for example, I was “manning” (why isn’t there a female term for this?) the office as new volunteers signed on, and a woman appeared laden down with snack foods and banana breads she’d baked. “Enjoy,” she said, and she waved and left. I’d heard about the office “Food Fairy” and yesterday, I guess I glimpsed her. And an hour or so later, a woman from Oregon appeared. She'd been driving through Florida on business, and had stopped at an Organizing for America office and noticed that people were searching for non-existent rubber bands. She tried to give them a donation for office supplies, and when informed that wasn’t allowed, she began visiting offices and buying items on their wish list. For us, a much-needed case of manila envelopes and two dozen clipboards (used for voter registration.) She wrote down the addresses of more offices and off went the office-supply angel.

Of course I’ve spoken with cranks and grouches (but not many at all.) From volunteering whatever time they have, to baking treats, to providing manila envelopes, people are amazing, although I can only speak for those with the same value system as the president.

       Eleven years ago, so much human malevolence, suffering and pain. It's good on my eleventh day here, to reflect on how good people and their ideals can be. (And a little pity on the side for those robotic men that I saw...when was it?So much has happened since--ah yes,  it was yesterday.)