Monday, September 27, 2004
Democracy in Action!
Monday=>Jewel
Jewel=>Chickenhamcheddar
Meanwhile, here's a true slice of Americana: Sunday one of the more, er, partisan editors traveled to Iowa to pitch-in for one of the presidential candidates. In the car were three other volunteers: an overly-scented 30 year old male grad student talking-up Chomsky, a way-too-easy-on-the-eyes 20 year old coed (on leave while working for a year in an Americorps project) who caught the editor in many shameless chest-level stares but didn't seem overly offended, and a middle-age school teacher who made way too many snobbish, demogogic attacks on the other candidate's morality and intelligence but otherwise seemed nice enough. Their mission: after going through a brief training/certification project, attempt to collect absentee ballots from previously targetted, like-minded partisans. As luck would have it, the editor's group was sent to the seediest part of the city, "but nothing as bad as you have in Chicago." Indeed, it was more like Waukegan. As the editor and the hot coed (who, we should add, was also very bright, and had a strange accent that seemed to fluctuate between southern drawl and upper-plainsstate nasal) snaked through their assigned streets, they noted the Nob-hill like terrain that belied Iowa's reputation for being flat. Most interesting moment: the editor and Hot Coed are heading to an address for a woman. When they get there, her husband is outside getting something out of his truck and calls out to them. Hot coed asks if the wife is there. She is not. Hot coed tells husband who they are. Husband says "Well I'm voting for [other guy]." Hot Coed says "Oh...is your wife voting for [other guy]" Husband says "Uh, yee-eh-ahhh" as if we were idiots. We thank husband and move-on. Hot Coed speculates that the woman was on the list because she took a primary ballot and is secretly voting differently than husband. Most surreal moment: The editors come to the home of a man and find his children (two girls and a boy) playing outside. The kids are cute. They call into the house for their dad to come out. The boy is holding a brick with some writing on it and he places the brick ontop of a mailbox/slot attached outside the door. One of the girls tells me she just got new shoes for school, then says "we write words on the brick." The husband comes out in a robe, unshaven, smoking a cigarette. He hasn't filled out the ballot and doesn't feel like doing so now or scheduling a later day for pickup -- he's "still studying him." They thank him and as they leave, the editor catches a glance at the brick on the mailbox and sees, in big yellow chalk, the word "F*$#." Now, there was a good deal of confusion by the Iowa organizers of this event. One leader thought the Illinois people were there to canvass (i.e., ask poll questions to target likely favorable voters). The other thought they were there to pick-up ballots. The latter was right, but much time was lost in the confusion. While the volunteers were invited to fortify themselves with ***LUNCH***, the organizers frantically made copies of voter lists, maps, and absentee ballot-picker-upper payperwork. The late start meant that most of the groups did not get to everybody on their list, but as luck would have it, the editor's group was tenacious and insisted on seeing their task through to the end (and then chatting with the Iowa organizers and working the phone banks for a spell). The upshot was that the editor did not get back home until 11 while most of the volunteers were home by 8:30.
Oh, and lunch? Salty (but otherwise ok) pizza, stale tortilla chips, and strawberry yogurt-dipped granola bars! There also was some veggie chilli lurking arround HQ that was not put out for lunch but was offered to the editor's group at dinner...
Monday=>Jewel
Jewel=>Chickenhamcheddar
Meanwhile, here's a true slice of Americana: Sunday one of the more, er, partisan editors traveled to Iowa to pitch-in for one of the presidential candidates. In the car were three other volunteers: an overly-scented 30 year old male grad student talking-up Chomsky, a way-too-easy-on-the-eyes 20 year old coed (on leave while working for a year in an Americorps project) who caught the editor in many shameless chest-level stares but didn't seem overly offended, and a middle-age school teacher who made way too many snobbish, demogogic attacks on the other candidate's morality and intelligence but otherwise seemed nice enough. Their mission: after going through a brief training/certification project, attempt to collect absentee ballots from previously targetted, like-minded partisans. As luck would have it, the editor's group was sent to the seediest part of the city, "but nothing as bad as you have in Chicago." Indeed, it was more like Waukegan. As the editor and the hot coed (who, we should add, was also very bright, and had a strange accent that seemed to fluctuate between southern drawl and upper-plainsstate nasal) snaked through their assigned streets, they noted the Nob-hill like terrain that belied Iowa's reputation for being flat. Most interesting moment: the editor and Hot Coed are heading to an address for a woman. When they get there, her husband is outside getting something out of his truck and calls out to them. Hot coed asks if the wife is there. She is not. Hot coed tells husband who they are. Husband says "Well I'm voting for [other guy]." Hot Coed says "Oh...is your wife voting for [other guy]" Husband says "Uh, yee-eh-ahhh" as if we were idiots. We thank husband and move-on. Hot Coed speculates that the woman was on the list because she took a primary ballot and is secretly voting differently than husband. Most surreal moment: The editors come to the home of a man and find his children (two girls and a boy) playing outside. The kids are cute. They call into the house for their dad to come out. The boy is holding a brick with some writing on it and he places the brick ontop of a mailbox/slot attached outside the door. One of the girls tells me she just got new shoes for school, then says "we write words on the brick." The husband comes out in a robe, unshaven, smoking a cigarette. He hasn't filled out the ballot and doesn't feel like doing so now or scheduling a later day for pickup -- he's "still studying him." They thank him and as they leave, the editor catches a glance at the brick on the mailbox and sees, in big yellow chalk, the word "F*$#." Now, there was a good deal of confusion by the Iowa organizers of this event. One leader thought the Illinois people were there to canvass (i.e., ask poll questions to target likely favorable voters). The other thought they were there to pick-up ballots. The latter was right, but much time was lost in the confusion. While the volunteers were invited to fortify themselves with ***LUNCH***, the organizers frantically made copies of voter lists, maps, and absentee ballot-picker-upper payperwork. The late start meant that most of the groups did not get to everybody on their list, but as luck would have it, the editor's group was tenacious and insisted on seeing their task through to the end (and then chatting with the Iowa organizers and working the phone banks for a spell). The upshot was that the editor did not get back home until 11 while most of the volunteers were home by 8:30.
Oh, and lunch? Salty (but otherwise ok) pizza, stale tortilla chips, and strawberry yogurt-dipped granola bars! There also was some veggie chilli lurking arround HQ that was not put out for lunch but was offered to the editor's group at dinner...
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