I'm 53, as of last week. Sunday, I went door-to-door for the GOTV effort in Fairfax County, Virginia -- the first time I have physically acted (other than sending money, and entering a voting booth) for a political/social cause since 1969, when I stood silent vigil against the Vietnam War with some of my 17-year-old Quaker friends who were about to be drafted. By the time I was 17, the draft was winding down, and my lottery number was never called.
The campaign organizers had dispersed to volunteers' homes "to ease congestion at the main office." A pair of neighboring townhouses, festooned with Obama signs. I got my clipboard, lit packet, and training from Bill, along with two other 40-something guys. I brought apples to share.
Out on my assigned route, I found myself in a suburban backwater just a stone's throw from my own home. Included was the home of my wife's very Republican ex. We're more than cordial with them, as we're co-parenting the youngest child of that marriage (the primary reason we settled just a mile away). We generally avoid talking politics, but the other night after Joe McCain's Arlington dinner, we found a McCain/Palin sign askew in our lawn. Sure enough, my wife's ex had planted it there, probably chortling all the way home.
Suburbia is hard. Large, single-family homes -- $400-$650K range -- and my route took me up and down about 5 intersecting streets to isolated addresses supposedly targeting a 'sporadic,' 'persuadable,' or 'supplemental' voter. Not a lot of lawn signs and bumper stickers, but as a rough estimate I'd give a very slight edge to McCain. Maybe 8-6 out of hundreds of properties. One house on my list had a McCain sign, and it turned out the Dem voter had moved out "ages ago."
The vast majority of my knocks were "not home." This was to be expected. I got the sense that at least half of those really were home, but either did not hear or -- as I myself am wont to do -- ignored the doorbell, not caring to speak with a stranger.
There's a muscular inaccessibility to this kind of suburbia. You have to hoof it, long distances. The street numbers go up to 5 and 6 digits. There are significant driveways, long manicured walks, private cul-de-sacs. Windows with lace curtains, private lives taking place in back yards and basements, the front door dry and secure. Even decorated for Halloween, with cotton webbing, "Enter If You Dare" signs, pumpkins, the neighborhoods felt reserved, defensive, every home a castle. And the ubiquitous fake greenery and silk autumn leaves -- what's that about? -- didn't we choose suburbia because of the vestige of nature we could enjoy, the shade trees, the plot of earth? And instead it's all double-glazed, power-washed, vinyl and macadam.
Every home with a 'Brinks' alarm sticker. A surprising number of respondents had to unlock multiple bolts in order to open the door. And lots of dogs, big dogs. This did not bother me a bit -- I adore dogs -- but it seemed notable. One house, out of 56 doors knocked on, was completely vacant. No for sale sign. No for sale signs anywhere. But Realtors' padlocks on the door knobs of about five others. I wondered how much stealth foreclosure there is in a neighborhood like this.
The people who answered -- defensive, non-committal. What was I selling? Whose side was I on? Not telling you. Yep, I'm voting. Not telling YOU of all people. GO away.
One angry woman, dark eyes averted, restraining a large dog as she gabbled through storm door, "Four times you people have been around, I'm not answering your questions."
At a couple of houses I got the reception Obama canvassers have gotten at my house: Your spiel not needed here -- I'm voting Obama. Smiles and waves. Do they need a ride to the polls? An absentee ballot? Nope, we're all set, yes indeed. Can you spare some time to volunteer? Ah, no, sorry -- but have a great day, and THANKS! Gobama!
The two houses I had the longest inconclusive conversations were split between leaning Obama and leaning McCain. The McCain guy was out doing yardwork, white, 49, friendly. Ex-military. National security a priority. Thinks McCain is better in that area. I missed my chance to bring up Colin Powell, or the consistently higher ratings that Obama gets from veteran organizations.
The Obama guy was a bit of a cipher. I thought he was gaming me, maybe. Big guy, African-American, bold boisterous voice, came out into the driveway and talked with me 3 or 4 minutes. "Most likely." "Probably." "In all likelihood." "That's pretty much my preference." Could I get him to commit? No. Usually independent. He doesn't like government. Thinks the Dems in Congress are weak. Again, I missed my talking points. I'm not as good on my feet as I would like.
I think I picked up ONE vote for Obama in the three hours. An Asian family (Indian, Pakistani?), and the dad only was home, in a flowing housecoat. One daughter, away at college, had already voted (Obama). The other was away at a different college. Could she vote absentee? He invited me in -- strong curry and incense aroma -- and we filled out the form together. I was grateful to sit for a moment. I left it with him to get her signature when she visits this week.
Two overall impressions. This lifestyle is endangered. It feels unsustainable. The SUV's, the minivans. The chemical lawns, the square footage, the STUFF. How much of it is wrapped in debt? What happens when this 21st Century upper-middle-class threatens to collapse?
The other, more immediate campaign impression: It takes a LOT of work to blanket this kind of area in a way that will really make a dent. One lit-drop, one knock, one phone call... it's not enough. We need workers. Virginia is hunkering down, and people are so uncertain. Like someone said recently, people are panicking, but they don't know how.
Let's GOTV. Go go go. Get those commitments, show your face, step lively. You may not change a mind, but you may help someone come out of their fear enough to actually cast a vote, a vote for change and hope.