Emotions One Day Out

I had a long day on Wednesday. Kicking around a fairly ritzy neighborhood in northern Iowa City/Coralville, I was not feeling the love. The few Edwards supporters I found all seemed to be leaving town or unable to caucus or some such. More than that, there were a LOT of Hillary signs.

Two conversations stuck in my craw.

One
I was ringing the doorbell of a house with a Hillary sign in the front yard. (It's proven to be worthwhile to hit these houses. Sometimes the sign only reflects one spouse or there is some other chink in the armor.) A bulldog and pug were staring at me through the glass door barking their heads off. They kept looking over their shoulders expecting their human owner to come to the door, but no one seemed to be coming. I left my lit and started back down the steps to the minivan. As I was starting the car, I looked up to see a woman standing outside the front door, waving at me.

"Wont you people just stop. You call and interrupt people without caring a bit what they might be doing!"

"I apologize, 'Mam, but we just think this election is so important, we can't make a mistake. I'm just a volunteer."

"I just don't know what to think anymore!" she said with angry frustration.

"Well, it looks like you have a Clinton sign. Are you concerned at all about her in the general election?"

We spoke for a minute or so. She was confused. She clearly had gone back and forth like so many of us, trying to make this momentous decision. Finally having made that decision, she resented the continued attention, but clearly she wasn't as sure of herself as she'd like to be.

I made my electability pitch, saying as much as I might admire Hillary, I just think about 50% of America has decided she's no good and we're not going to change their minds. It was weird. She didn't dispute my points but was in her stocking feet. It was 8 or 9 degrees. Her body language told me it was time to go, so I excused myself.

I started the car and backed out of the driveway. As I started up the hill of her street, I looked over to see her again outside, waving a newspaper at me. I rolled down the window.

"Don't just tell me why NOT to vote for someone! Tell me why I should support your guy!"

"Well, sure--"

"See! See this! Do you know the Press-Citizen?" (The Iowa City paper.)

"Sure."

She had it on a page that was clearly a chart comparing all the candidates positions on dozens of issues.

She started, "On immigration, Edwards says, 'We must secure our borders (something...something, I don't exactly remember) but maintain our country's heritage of immigrant contribution.' What does that mean?? It doesn't mean anything!"

"Well, I'm not sure exactly what you're reading there, but--"

"None of them say anything specific! None of them have a plan for anything!"

"Well, that's just not true, 'Mam." At this point, I had gotten out of my car and gotten about halfway to the door. "John Edwards has more detailed plans about more things than anybody. I've got a book in my car."

She was not pleased, but I went to my car and got the little handbook out entitled "Plan for One America." She had retreated back inside, but opened the door so I could give it to her. I told her it was VERY specific. I wished her a happy new year and thanked her for caucusing. And finally left.

Phew...bizarre....

It was my first time really seeing the confused emotion that must be boiling inside a number of people. I was bewildered. I felt I had done all right, but I was way out of my comfort zone.

Two
Perhaps the exact opposite. A few hours later I stopped by another house. Big, long driveway. I knocked on the door, and through the window I could see a study with shelves and shelves of vinyl records. A music buff. The guy opened the door. He had shoulder length hair, partly pulled back.

"Hi, I'm from the John Edwards campaign. You planning on caucusing tomorrow?"

"Nah, I got bowling," he said with a sideways smile.

"You can't take one week off?"

"Nah."

"Well, have a nice day."

That was that. Maybe I'll offend someone here, but I don't think that man deserves to live in America. I don't think he deserves to have the fire department come to save his home. I don't think he appreciates what an opportunity, what a blessing it is to live in a country of such opportunity. It's hard to offend me, but I was furious.

I really had to pee at this point, which is often the case while canvassing. I thought about doing so in the bushes by his driveway--as I said, it was long, remember. But I didn't. I held it for another hour until I was done.

I spent 5 and a half hours going door-to-door, mainly for people who didn't want me to be there. A week out of my life. Hundreds of dollars in gas and meals. In the FREEZING cold. Trying to educate people about a candidate who I think offers the greatest hope that this country can right it's rotten political system. He'd rather go bowling.