How’d you like a pre-election postcard from central Florida? I left 30-degree Vermont Monday and landed back in what seems the middle of July, made all the hotter by the political hot air.
My friend Matt and I volunteered to spend the last week before the election helping MoveOn’s political action committee turn out the vote for John Kerry. We landed in Tampa and immediately hit the phones and started knocking on doors. The difference between cinch state and swing state became immediately obvious.
We were assigned to canvass a wealthy neighborhood on an island in Hillsborough Bay. Our hearts sunk as we arrived on the streets. The lawns were dotted with Bush-Cheney signs, but there was not a Kerry-Edwards placard in sight. “Maybe people are using the Bush signs for scary Halloween decorations,” Matt said.
After knocking a few doors, we found plenty of Democrats, who said the dearth of signs was due to cruising cars full of Young Republicans who troll the neighborhoods after dark, stealing Kerry signs to make it look as if the Massachusetts senator has no support. From what we’ve heard, it’s a common practice around Florida.
It had been 14 (Matt) or 16 (me) years since we’d canvassed, but the rust shook off quickly. I had the honor of shaking the hand of George H. Dukes, who first voted to elect Franklin Roosevelt in 1932 and has already cast his early ballot in this year’s poll. His eyes were clear, his mind was sharp and he was togged out in a florescent green vest for his evening constitutional.
Disturbingly, there was also a house where the Democrat inside asked Matt not to speak so loudly, for fear her neighbors would hear that she was supporting John Kerry; in another, residents were afraid to sign anything political. Even eight and nine-year-old kids playing in the street were arguing politics. “We’re voting for George Bush,” one pre-teen boy said, appropriating his parents’ views as his own. “You obviously don’t
understand politics,” a pre-teen girl responded.
The MoveOn office is located above an Irish bar (“The Dubliner – since 2002”) in a reviving neighborhood. The organizer staff is comprised of 20 20-somethings, most from San Francisco.
MoveOn is involved in a “tag and drag” movement. Volunteers work the phones and front doors, identifying likely Kerry voters (“tagging”) and on Election Day, there’s an all-out movement to get them to the polls (“dragging”).
After a dizzy 36 hours in Tampa, Matt and I were sent north to Ocala (north of Orlando, south of Gainesville) with two cell phones, a list of names and six days to turn out as many voters as we can. We eat in the car and sleep (when we can) on a volunteer’s couches.
National news, even news about the campaign, passes like a rumor due to our remote location and the fact that we’re engaged in our GOTV effort for 18 hours a day. We know there’s some dispute about a weapons cache, Yasir Arafat is not well.
We hear daily rumors of electoral improprieties, but we’re not here to write an expose, we’re here to turn out votes. We know for certain that Boston won the series. (An omen?) In the tense, contentious swing state atmosphere, baseball is the one thing everyone is happy to talk about. Even the folks with the Bush signs on their lawns seem to have been rooting for the Sox. I’m taking that as a message from the better natures of those Republicans that they, too want to see Massachusetts come out on top.
Being here, I realize how easy it is to live in a clinch state and shake my head with my lefty friends about the state of America. Here, in a swing state with heavy GOP presence, I’m awed and humbled by the people who daily stand for progressive principles in the face of scorn. They’re the patriots of 21st century democracy.
Weather is Fine, Wish You Were Here
How’d you like a pre-election postcard from central Florida? I left 30-degree Vermont Monday and landed back in what seems the middle of July, made all the hotter by the political hot air.
My friend Matt and I volunteered to spend the last week before the election helping MoveOn’s political action committee turn out the vote for John Kerry. We landed in Tampa and immediately hit the phones and started knocking on doors. The difference between cinch state and swing state became immediately obvious.
We were assigned to canvass a wealthy neighborhood on an island in Hillsborough Bay. Our hearts sunk as we arrived on the streets. The lawns were dotted with Bush-Cheney signs, but there was not a Kerry-Edwards placard in sight. “Maybe people are using the Bush signs for scary Halloween decorations,” Matt said.
After knocking a few doors, we found plenty of Democrats, who said the dearth of signs was due to cruising cars full of Young Republicans who troll the neighborhoods after dark, stealing Kerry signs to make it look as if the Massachusetts senator has no support. From what we’ve heard, it’s a common practice around Florida.
It had been 14 (Matt) or 16 (me) years since we’d canvassed, but the rust shook off quickly. I had the honor of shaking the hand of George H. Dukes, who first voted to elect Franklin Roosevelt in 1932 and has already cast his early ballot in this year’s poll. His eyes were clear, his mind was sharp and he was togged out in a florescent green vest for his evening constitutional.
Disturbingly, there was also a house where the Democrat inside asked Matt not to speak so loudly, for fear her neighbors would hear that she was supporting John Kerry; in another, residents were afraid to sign anything political. Even eight and nine-year-old kids playing in the street were arguing politics. “We’re voting for George Bush,” one pre-teen boy said, appropriating his parents’ views as his own. “You obviously don’t
understand politics,” a pre-teen girl responded.
The MoveOn office is located above an Irish bar (“The Dubliner – since 2002”) in a reviving neighborhood. The organizer staff is comprised of 20 20-somethings, most from San Francisco.
MoveOn is involved in a “tag and drag” movement. Volunteers work the phones and front doors, identifying likely Kerry voters (“tagging”) and on Election Day, there’s an all-out movement to get them to the polls (“dragging”).
After a dizzy 36 hours in Tampa, Matt and I were sent north to Ocala (north of Orlando, south of Gainesville) with two cell phones, a list of names and six days to turn out as many voters as we can. We eat in the car and sleep (when we can) on a volunteer’s couches.
National news, even news about the campaign, passes like a rumor due to our remote location and the fact that we’re engaged in our GOTV effort for 18 hours a day. We know there’s some dispute about a weapons cache, Yasir Arafat is not well.
We hear daily rumors of electoral improprieties, but we’re not here to write an expose, we’re here to turn out votes. We know for certain that Boston won the series. (An omen?) In the tense, contentious swing state atmosphere, baseball is the one thing everyone is happy to talk about. Even the folks with the Bush signs on their lawns seem to have been rooting for the Sox. I’m taking that as a message from the better natures of those Republicans that they, too want to see Massachusetts come out on top.
Being here, I realize how easy it is to live in a clinch state and shake my head with my lefty friends about the state of America. Here, in a swing state with heavy GOP presence, I’m awed and humbled by the people who daily stand for progressive principles in the face of scorn. They’re the patriots of 21st century democracy.
(c) Mark Floegel, 2004