I am standing with friends, my fellow Democratic town committee members, at the Joe Kennedy victory party. A few minutes after watching Elizabeth Warren's victory speech the cry goes out from the TV watching crowd in the corner: "Ohio!!!!!!". Some network called Ohio for Obama. We all know what this means. A magic number pops up on the screen: 274. 274 electoral votes.
It's over! I am screaming. I start the "four more years" chant. I remember Nixon and '72. This one's for George McGovern.
Obama. Warren. Kennedy. Democrats who have become my friends are re-elected state rep and state senator.
A long day is over. Even for Massachusetts Democrats, long a dominant party, this was a great night.
The day began before dawn.
My day began at 530am, setting up the Democratic visibility at our town's one polling place. By 6am, when the polls open, I am in line. Number 100 in line. Quick vote and the Democratic town cmmittee die hards, hardy multi-layer wearing multi-cultural New Englanders are back at the signs.
As dawn breaks voters see Democrats holding signs. The Republicans will show up later, much later. By 9am I have my house, after fixing the thermostat and a printer, up and running as the GOTV phone bank. I've got 5 people on the phones.
People come and go. The predictive dialer technology gives us fits, occasionally crashing. But we call until 615pm, over nine hours, until we get the magic message "the call list is complete".
Back to the polls for the final sign holding. Then collecting, tabulating, and phoning in results. The visibilities. The door knocking. The phone banking. The dear friend cards. The yard signs.
Our town's a purple town, in Scott Brown's backyard. The GOP is riding Snotty's coattails here. All that work, behind enemy lines. Now the results.
Romney takes the town by 300 votes. A five election winning streak ends. First time since Reagan we lost our town. Elizabeth loses 60-40 or so. Republican eyes are gleaming. The polls are unskewing!
I am not happy about Obama. But if Brown can't do better than this here, he's toast. I smile. We did our job. Brown's toast. This is not a three week low Democratic turnout election. Democrats are turning out this time. He needs a helluva lot more than 60% in his own backyard to win. Ain't gonna get it in my town.
The focus of our work for weeks has been Joe Kennedy. 10 votes. We take our town for Joe Kennedy by 10 votes. Five of us are standing there. Half the margin. Bielat's toast, and already packed and ready to move back to Pennsylvania, or wherever.
More importantly, two days before I was with Joe on a quick visit to our local pub. I told him how much his grandfather meant to me. I hugged him and told him we'd worked hard for him, and we'd win the town for him. 10 fucking votes. We did.
My dear friend Eileen, one of the best volunteer grassroots organizers around, worked her butt off for those 10 votes. I spent two mornings a week from 7-9am holding signs with her. We recruited people for phone banks, door knocking, more.
10 goddamn votes.
I text my two college daughters, casting their first votes this year. Joe Kennedy won your hometown by 10 votes: one of them was yours. My youngest texts, then calls, to tell me about her and her Georgia Democrat (!) roommate being the only kids celebrating in Oxford, Ohio.
Obama. Warren. Kennedy.
Then off to the Kennedy party. Got there as his speech ended. Worked through the crowd, shook Joe's hand. I'd kept my promise to Bobby Kennedy's grandson. We took our town. 10 fucking votes.
Obama. Warren. Kennedy.
Obama. Warren. Kennedy.
Sometimes we play offense. Sometimes we play defense.
Obama. Warren. Kennedy.
Obama. Warren. Kennedy.
Please. If I am dreaming, let me sleep. We did our job.