Canvassing and the Other One Percent
It was a spectacularly sunny day.  A day when you walk just a bit slower, because you recognize you want to soak up this moment.  I had to adjust my hat when we were walking south, because the sun was that bright.  Neighbors were out working on their homes and cars. Kids playing games in the streets.  A day to remember.

Nine of ten doors we knocked on, no one answered.  Maybe more.  Of those who did answer, nine of ten were either uninterested, visibly annoyed at being canvassed yet again, or told us that the person we were looking for was not home.  We were left with the other one percent.

Canvassing is a sobering experience.  With all the talk about the importance of the modern ground game in elections, we somewhat romantically expected to feel like the vanguard as we collected our packets and mapped out our routes.  Four hours later, feet sore and fingers frozen, we wondered if we’d had any impact at all.  Far from delivering the state, I was in a state of shock.

We walked through a neighborhood on the south eastern edge of downtown, butting up against the university.  Houses were run down, for rent signs in every other window.  The streets and sidewalks were torn up, weathering for lack of human attention well beyond the lived-in look.  You had to watch your step to avoid pot holes, sink holes, wadded up panties, piles of shattered liquor bottles and fast food debris.  What else about my life, beyond my neighborhood sidewalks and well-tended yards, do I similarly just take for granted?

The people walking on the streets were a mixture of mostly young and seriously haggard middle-aged folks.  A union guy about my age came to the door, unwilling to mask his annoyance at being bothered yet again, repeating to me the line about early voting that he had already heard for weeks, making my script about rides to the polls tomorrow sound bureaucratic and insensitive.  I felt like I was knocking on Thoreau’s door and failing to behave like a neighbor, collecting taxes or not.

A women, maybe 35, craned her neck to hold her head in the barely opened door to tell me that she had ‘spoken to someone from your office just yesterday.’  I laughed and noted she would probably hear from someone tomorrow as well.  I got the sense that this registered with her, perhaps inspiring her to plan to be out of the house tomorrow.  She did not return my laughter. 

About a third of the doorways were littered with the signs of previous canvasses ignored.  Old and yellowed flyers crammed into the jam of a door that has not been opened in a while.  How many times do I read and consider the flyer swinging from my door handle?  I need to remember to never allow my impatience to show when someone takes the time to knock on my door in the future, even if the game is on or a pot is on the stove or I was reading a great book.  In fact, I should welcome them and engage with them, since the alternative appears to be bombardment by a mountain of commercials.

A 19 year old student cheerfully reported that she had already voted early as she shifter her hips to block her very large dog from escaping through the screen door she was holding open with one hand.  Another student, likely a football player or at least the size of one, with a big dog and a puppy, told us the same.  Already voted.  As I waited on one street corner for my partner, I could hear construction workers digging a ditch for a new gas line commenting about the election, and stealing a glance and grin at me, but I could not quite make out what they were saying.

The much sought-after ground game that is said to be what will make the difference.  I am glad to be part of it and to experience it as a walk through my neighbor’s neighborhoods.  Engaging for real is concrete, interactive, and messy.  Stepping out takes the gloss off all the images of democracy that squeeze out the complexity and the multiple layers of contestation and no-time-for-this-today.  The other one percent knocked the wind out of me today and I liked it.  The election is tomorrow, let's hope all of our neighborhoods win.

Canvassing got me thinking...then a friend posted the following on Facebook and it just cascaded beyond my control...

“If you are bored and disgusted by politics and don't bother to vote, you are in effect voting for the entrenched Establishments of the two major parties, who please rest assured are not dumb, and who are keenly aware that it is in their interests to keep you disgusted and bored and cynical and to give you every possible reason to stay at home doing one-hitters and watching MTV on primary day. By all means stay home if you want, but don't bullshit yourself that you're not voting. In reality, there is no such thing as not voting: you either vote by voting, or you vote by staying home and tacitly doubling the value of some Diehard's vote.”

David Foster Wallace

Profound insight into how politics and power work.  So I read it and thought about it and ended up listening to a recording of a speech he gave in 2005.  And that speech was just absolutely amazing.  Really hit me hard...in a very good way.  I highly recommend it.  The speech is called 'This is Water.'

This is Water
Some Thoughts Delivered on a Significant Occasion about Living a Compassionate Life

David Foster Wallace speech

Part I

Part II

Here is a site that provides the full text of this speech, if you are like me and prefer to have a text to follow and write on as you listen.

Who was David Foster Wallace?

David Foster Wallace was an award-winning American novelist, short story writer, essayist, and professor at Pomona College in Claremont, California. He is widely known for his 1996 novel Infinite Jest.

Born: February 21, 1962, Ithaca
Died: September 12, 2008, Claremont
Education: Amherst College, University of Arizona, Cornell University, Harvard University
Awards: MacArthur Fellowship, Whiting Writers' Award, Lannan Literary Award for Fiction

Books
Infinite Jest
1996

The Pale King
2011