October 10, 2012
I have loved this quotation by Thornton Wilder for a long time.
It used to be theoretical—a wonderful, probably true observation. Now it feels the
motto of my days. Here tis:
"The test of an adventure is that when you're in the middle
of it, you say to yourself, 'Oh, now I’ve got myself into an awful mess; I wish
I were sitting quietly at home.' And the sign that something's wrong with you
is when you sit quietly at home wishing you were out having lots of
adventure."
I am having myself an adventure and a half, and yes, during the past few
weeks there have been moments of thinking I’ve gotten myself into an
awful mess, and experiencing desperate homesickness for everything I love. I
guess that’s good news because who doesn’t yearn for adventure? But I never
dreamed I’d be having mine in Florida?
Voter registration is over here as of yesterday. It has been
incredibly hectic, tense and successful. It has meant twelve hour work days and no days off (my decision. Necessary. Except today—a day off!
Almost…I have a meeting about the next phase this evening…) Getting people
registered has obsessed me and I’m still in the reflexive habit whenever
anybody mentions a local site or event, of thinking “Could we send somebody
there? Will they toss us out? What would be the best time?” (And also
sometimes: would any volunteer actually go stand in that parking lot around
midnight? Really? The answer is they wouldn’t, and I wouldn’t ask even though
it’s probable that the people milling around there at that time aren’t
registered...)
I am still an angry old lady, still infuriated by the covert
voter suppression in effect in this state. Perhaps corporations have the right
to not allow VR inside their stores—but to not allow it in the parking lots? To
actually pull one of our volunteers away from a public bus stop insisting that
the shopping mall owned that piece of pavement? But even if that is their
right, there should then be state-backed
safe and convenient registration sites. Every time I’ve seen a photo on the internet of a table
set on a street corner with a sign: Register Here, I know it wasn’t snapped in
Pinellas County, Florida. Here, we’ve too often had to be secret agents,
avoiding the security guards on parking lots, behaving as if we were committing
a crime, not performing a civic service.
This is plain wrong. As is cutting out the final Sunday of early
voting because last election, the black churches of Florida bussed their
congregants in to vote that day—and helped win the state for Obama. So now that
day is gone. No explanation, no justification. Just gone.
And on the other, happier side, there are the stories. Each
person who volunteers has a reason, a personal story of why this election is important to them, and many of them touch the heart. So many volunteers are
coping with multiple jobs or no job at all now, huge family obligations and
serious physical limitations (e.g.: in the past week, a paralyzed boy in a
wheelchair entering data, an exuberant young man on dialysis going out and
doing vr as long as he could stand the heat, and a man on the phone, near
tears, calling to tell me he couldn’t come in to do vr the next day, as
important as he knew it was, because his beloved cat was dying and he had to
keep vigil.) I don’t know if any of these people are Mittens’ 47%, but they are
people with stories and passions who care about all our futures, and it’s been
a privilege to get to know them.
I also love getting to know our amazing Field
Organizers. I have never seen people work so hard, so long, and so constantly.
I truly love my F.O. who won’t let me call him my boss, but who is. His mind
seems capable of handling ten things at once, and his energy boggles my mind. He also could be my grandson. I have consistently joked about that, and about how old I
am. It apparently didn’t fully take, but a few weeks back, he offered me a paid
position with the campaign. I was surprised and honored. He read my resume
(I had to be vetted again) and said with surprise, “You
were teaching high school the year my mother was born.” But apparently even
that didn’t help register the fact that I am an ancient person. It took until
he phoned me that evening and said they didn’t have my birth date anywhere, and
what was it. When I told him the year, this incredibly smart, sophisticated
young man whom nothing rattles said: REALLY??? REALLY??? And then he was speechless.
(I turned down the job. I didn’t want to test out whether I could physically or
psychologically stand working till midnight every night with no days off…He’s
22. I am not.)
But I’m apparently not too old to be running after a moving car
early yesterday morning when I thought I’d lost a stack of voter registration
forms. We have to account for every single form the state issued to
us—thousands--and we’ve been told that not only will we be fined by the state
1K for any single missing form, blank or not—but if it was filled out by someone trying to register, which these were—then by losing them, I’d also committed a federal crime. About forty federal crimes in fact. The
driver didn’t hear me and shot off (he is also 22 and drives like a 22 year
old) and this old lady returned to the office in despair, only to see a tiny
stickum note from my F.O. saying he had come in after I left (I left at 9:40 p.m.
That’s what I mean about their endless energy and the hours they keep) finished
the forms I’d come in early to complete and all was well. That car speeding
away was taking them the Supervisor of Elections.
I’m allergic to caffeine, so I generally do not have a great way
to wake up when exhausted. I’ve now found a new way. Believe you've created a whole stack of federal offenses and run screaming after a moving car first thing in the a.m. It definitely gets the adrenaline pumping and then the day is yours.
On the (temporary) home front, things have been complicated as well. I’m
staying with an 85 year old ball of fire—or a woman who fit that description
until two weeks ago when she began to be ill and finally wound up hospitalized
for five days with pneumonia. She is now
home and recuperating, and she’s given my angry old lady persona more to deplore:
Florida’s health system. Do other states send an octogenarian with
pneumonia home without filling her prescriptions at the hospital? The next morning, I found her on the phone morning trying to find out what pharmacy had what she
needed to breathe. Time to take
out my angry-old lady umbrella and bring it down on Florida’s head!
Our jobs now shift gears into getting the (Democratic) voters actually voting. More phone calls, more canvassing, more recruiting volunteers.(Have I
mentioned that the actual me acutely dislikes talking on the phone and dreads asking
anybody to inconvenience themselves?) This phoning, asking, phoning more, asking more alien who has taken over my body in Florida (did I mention how much actual and alien me loathe humid heat?) surprises and amuses me.
The good news is: I will no longer have to be sending out
stealth-registrants, saying “stay till they ask you to leave.
Easier to ask forgiveness than permission.”
These final weeks will be hard work--and fun: I’ll be talking to
Democrats, to Obama supporters and not to the people who reluctantly or
enthusiatically enforce the dictates of those shadowy, despicable “corporate
says no” folk. No more bums’ rush. Just a rush to the polls. Less than four weeks to go...Four weeks for four more for 44!
The adventure continues.
Jude. You are amazing.
ReplyDeleteReading these things - the totally immoral illegal things that you are combatting makes me SO angry I can hardly breathe.
But here I sit while you are fighting the real dragons and bad guys while living in a room with people you've never met before and making a HUGE difference.
I've always admired and respected you, now you've moved up to hero status.
for real.
Hugs, my friend.
God bless you for your massive work on this campaign which is a real turning point for our nation. Love reading about what you do. My daughter and granddaughter registered folks on Sunday in Lee County. Now go get them all to the polls. and thank you for doing this. Terrie Moran
ReplyDeleteWe're calling dems now. It is so much easier. I actually got people who were pleased to talk to me, who were eager to volunteer.
ReplyDeleteLove the diary!
DItto what Kaye said.
You are amazing, Judy. The world is definitely a better place because you are in it! Registered and voting - but in AZ.
ReplyDeleteDitto ditto ditto the above comments, Judy. THANK YOU for what you are doing. Up here in Maine, no signs (yet) of voter suppression, but we'll see come November 6th.
ReplyDeleteI can't believe that you manage to blog at all. I have told lots of friends about the work you are doing. I think all your fans should get together and give you a month at a spa for doing this. Love the blog!
ReplyDeleteCorporation create jobs and pay salaries so I don't quite understand the need to demonize them. And, no I'm not a Romney supporter.
ReplyDeleteLynne in GA
GO Judy! http://www.miamiherald.com/2012/10/14/3050032/in-politics-polls-are-important.html
ReplyDeleteit's working in Pinellas county!
and more: http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2012-10-15/florida-democrats-cut-traditional-republican-lead-in-mail-votes.html
GO Judy GO!!!!
ReplyDelete