Cross-posted from my blog. I haven't been around here much lately, but I figure I had to share this.
This was one of the most exotic moments of my life, dear Reader. And that's saying something.
So earlier this evening the Teen was at college and everyone else was at kendo. I was breathing the sweet air of solitude and employing my time productively (i.e., by research-reading erotica while I played a video game. Hey, I multi-task.) Along comes a doorbell ringing.
"Goddammit," I say with feeling, and haul myself up. I jerk open the door, prepared for a neighbor's kid wanting to play with mine or some guy selling siding. "What?"
The nicely-dressed man smiles. "Hi, I'm David Carrier. I'm running for state Senate in this district and I'm just out introducing myself."
I am immediately on guard. Homeless guys, guys in gang colors, guys dressed in odds and ends don't frighten me. A man in a tie on my doorstep? I am instantly wary. Three-piece suits plunder the average American far more than anyone else.
My eyes narrow. I can tell I've got what the Selkie calls 'that yellow-eyed stare' on. "Democrat or Republican?"
He shifts into gear, and I can tell he's searching for a clue. Like you can't tell how a zaftig girl in sweats and a nosering is going to vote. "Well, the Republicans have had their turn for a long time now. Democrat."
He bought himself twenty seconds to impress me. Republican would have made me say No thanks, I can't respect anyone who affiliates themselves with such lying hypocrites. "Okay. That's good." I look over my spectacles. It's time to get serious. "What do you think about the Paulson plan and the proposed bailout?"
"I'm against it," he says immediately. And I can tell he's maybe a little frightened at my sudden ferocity. How many times, I wonder, has he knocked on a door and had to contend with ignorance or apathy? And he's still looking peppy. Bright-eyed. Interested.
This guy has the public-service bug. It might get knocked out of him, but he's got it now. My heart suddenly hurts.
But not enough to let him off the hook. "All right. Why?" My vote hinges on this, dammit. This is probably the only time I'll get to see the guy. I hope I'm making an impression. You wanna work for me? Impress me.
All of a sudden, his shoulders relax. He's looking me in the eye and leaning forward a little. "Because dealing with Wall Street is only half of the problem. The plan doesn't take home foreclosures into account, and that's going to affect a lot more people. I was just blogging about this the other day." (Note: And damn if he didn't. I checked.) He could go on. All the fear and uncertainty has evaporated.
I didn't know the guy had a doctorate in Economics from Notre Dame. I just though, Jesus, he sounds like he's thought about this. After years of Bush and his cohorts mangling the English language and beating the shit out of science and intellectual inquiry wherever they can, I'm almost about to weep with relief whenever anyone seeking public office comes out with a coherent, grammatically sound sentence that sounds like they might have spent half a second effing thinking about the issue instead of regurgitating sound bites.
It takes so little to please me after the nightmare of the past eight years.
I went from being upset to thrilled in the space of a heartbeat, dear Reader. "Especially since Wall Street created the damn problem." I could go on, but he already looks a little shell-shocked. I grin, move forward, and shake the man's hand. "Sir, you just got yourself a vote. Thanks for coming by."
He hands over a small infosheet and looks dazed by my sudden volte-face. "Well, I'm happy to hear that. Thanks."
"Good luck out there." I mean it. He's going to need it.
I close the door and lean against it. I am thinking of the world--in how many countries is a meeting like this possible? In how many countries would what I say be discounted because of my gender, or because of how I look? In how many countries would I never be able to see the levers of power, would what I think not even count because someone has a machine gun or enough money?
And I was reminded of why I love my country, even though I disagree vehemently with the current bunch of crooks that stole the last two elections, looted the country, and got us into a morass of an immoral war.
There is hope. And goddammit, it's time we took our country back. (Here comes my impassioned public service announcement.) Register to to vote, or make sure you're registered* this time around. Make GODDAMN sure you're registered. Even if you don't agree with my stance, even if you think I'm wrongheaded, even if you think your vote would never count.
It won't count unless you throw it in there.
It's time for us to take this machine the Founding Fathers put together for us and use it. The lobbyists and special interests are afraid of you and me for a reason. It's because supreme executive power derives solely from a mandate from the masses (thank you, Michael Palin. Why couldn't YOU be president???) Masses are us. You and me and your sister and your friends and my boss, my kids and your kids and our grandparents.
We the people.
Now I'm all choked up. Seriously. I am. David Carrier just made me feel like a patriot again.
Goddamn. I love my country.
*
Note: Yeah, that's the Obama site. Given how the Republicans are endorsing, funding, and going after voter suppression, I won't apologize for linking to it. Just register to vote, dammit.
state Edited to add state senate. Thanks, Alec!