I turned 52 the other day, and someone on this side of half a century has rights, privileges, and responsibilities heretofore and forthwith accorded to people who've made it this far. (Well, I keep telling myself that. Delusion is a hobby of mine.)
I wanted to do the most fun thing EVER to celebrate. So I gleefully allowed my friends Susi and Donnie kidnap me for a south Indian birthday luncheon (complete with a hat made out of dosa crepes), with the understanding that I wanted to be home in time to make "chase calls" to newly registered voters in my area of Wake County, North Carolina.
Let me just tell you that if you've got a special day coming up, talking with new voters is the absolute most celebratorily awesome event in the known and unknown universes. Being able to tell someone who's not voted at their current address before that you could have chosen ANYTHING to commemorate the day and you chose to spend a few minutes with them is da shizzle.
Because those new voters are important. REALLY important in this election (and any other). Having the chance to congratulate them for registering and to hear their stories gave me a birthday experiences I'm not going to forget -- and I hope that when they're headed to the polls in October (for early voting here) or November (on Election Day), they will remember how much their vote matters, and that their community members truly believe that they're going to make a difference.
One of my first calls was to Jeanne, who had JUST become a U.S. citizen a few weeks ago. She's from Haiti and left in the wake of a devastating hurricane, when she was lucky enough to be able to join distant relatives in Canada. She then moved here to North Carolina and quickly set about learning how to become a U.S. citizen and embrace her new homeland. Jeanne said she'd asked people at the immigration office where she could register to vote, and they just gave her some phone numbers to call. A couple weeks ago, she was at a WalMart in north Raleigh and she noticed a couple of women going around the parking lot with clipboards featuring big stickers that said, "VOTING IS YOUR RIGHT." That's how she learned how easy it is to register to vote, and she registered right on the spot.
I could hear the smile in Jeanne's voice as she told me her story about becoming a U.S. citizen and completing that voter registration form in the parking lot of a WalMart, then receiving her registration card in the mail last week. We are incredibly lucky that Jeanne has chosen to join our national community, and I feel incredibly lucky that she's here in my home county and could be a teeny part of her immigrant-to-citizen experience. Jeanne was quick to ask me how she could do what I was doing and volunteer some time for the Obama campaign so that she can tell her family in Haiti that she's supporting Obama in every way possible.
After talking with Jeanne, I called Richard, who had registered at a new address because he lost his job in February, and then his family lost their home. He's living in a rough neighborhood right now with relatives, and he wasn't all that happy to hear from me that afternoon. We talked about the economy in our area of North Carolina and learned that both of us were laid off by the public school system -- Richard as a school bus driver, and myself as an administrator who was part of a mass layoff back in 2010. We talked about how much it meant to us to have been part of the public school system, and Richard told me about many of the children he'd driven to and from school over the years. We both know that the county has no choice but to lay off folks like us, because we know how hard the recession has hit local funding for education.
After we talked a while, Richard gave a big sigh and admitted that despite everything -- despite his family's financial devastation and the disheartening "Unfortunately, we won't be hiring you" notices that he's been receiving from area employers -- he still believes deep down that individuals like us can be a small part of the seemingly overwhelming effort to turn things around. So he asked me where he could find an Organizing for America office near him. He figures that by volunteering on a regular basis, he'll keep his spirits up and keep the word out that he's fired up and ready to work!
(And do you know that the very next day, the field organizer at the 130 E. Morgan Street OFA office in Raleigh let me know that Richard had come in to register voters?)
After a couple "not home" calls, I talked with two young moms in a row. One has two children under the age of 3 and a husband serving in Afghanistan. She immediately asked about where she could volunteer for the Obama campaign. Her husband is serving the country in his way, and now that she's settled in her new home in North Carolina, she wants to serve in her way, too.
The other young mother I spoke with said pretty much the same thing. Both women talked about how committed they are to ensuring a good life for their sons/daughters and how much they want to model involved citizenship for their children, no matter what obstacles or challenges are in their lives.
Because I live near NC State University, several of my calls were to university students who were about to cast the very first votes of their lives. I remember being a college student casting my first vote back in 1978, and I imagine that they'll remember their experiences, too. It was exciting to hear them tell me about where they'd come from, why they chose to study at NC State, how they sometimes struggle to understand the complex issues in this year's election so they can cast the "right" vote.
Several times during these calls, I was drawn into to that poem by William Carlos Williams:
so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens.
In their own ways, these students were telling me that they understand how much their votes matter, and that they aren't sure they're up to the task ... but also that they are stepping up to do what needs to be done, despite the elements and the busy work of life going on in their lives and all around them. My first vote came during a non-presidential-election year, and I remember how overwhelming all the candidates and issues seemed to me, and how it was all plopped down on a ballot in front of me a few weeks into this big, huge life at a college that was five times bigger than the Minnesota town I'd just left a few weeks earlier.
I invited each of the students (and everyone else I spoke to that night) to stop by the OFA office kitty-corner across the street from the Amtrak station in Cary, where they can get some brochures about policy issues and ask staff and volunteers questions they'd like answers to. They can also go out with some volunteers for a few minutes to see what's being done, how things are going, and what other voters in the area are saying about the upcoming elections up and down the ticket.
And that was my birthday with newly registered voters in my area of Wake County. Now, I always love the "chasing new voter registrants" calls, but starting out each phone call by letting people know I chose to spend the evening calling them was a great feeling, and I fully admit I reveled in all the extra "Happy birthday!" wishes I received. It was even better than a homemade red velvet cake with buttercream frosting. Seriously. Better.
I have no way of knowing whichaway those people I called that night will vote. Or how many who said they want to volunteer actually will. But I know for well and sure that so much depends upon each of them, whether they know it or not. And how much I depend upon them to keep a heartfelt smile on my face and in my voice as I hit those phone-banking lists through Election Day.
I love you, Birthday Night Phone-Bank Answerers! Your smiles, your can-do/will-do attitudes, your inquisitive thirst for knowledge in this voting year ... all that and more kept me accessing the Obama Dashboard Virtual Phone Bank bookmark on my Google Chrome Toolbar aaaaaaaaaaaaaall week long. I wish each of you a glorious election year that brings you to an even better place 365 days from now -- with a great new job, perhaps, or help with your mortgage, and healthcare you can access and afford, and a less puzzling view toward your future, and kids who get to play dodgeball in the playground of a great school they love, and all the best that our community and our nation can be. Because you're the best our community and nation can be, even with the challenges and tragedies and fears and hard work that you face every day. You inspire me, and I celebrate.