D-Day minus one

Went up to Dem HQ yesterday morning around 11, figuring I'd spend an hour or two phoning voters, then go do some grocery shopping, come home, make some soup, finish reading the Sunday papers, maybe even get some real work done on transcribing those interview tapes that are sitting there. Some seven hours later, I finally got home. No groceries bought, no soup made, no tapes transcribed, but a whole lot of calls made to voters in Kenosha, Wisconsin, and pages and pages of what we callers learned entered into the Wisconsin Democratic Party's voter info database.

The office was jammed with volunteers, people at phones in various nooks and crannies, all with their lists, all asking, "Have you voted yet? Are you going to vote? May I ask if you're supporting Sen. Obama? Do you know where your polling place is? Do you need a ride to the polls?" When I went outside to take a break, I discovered there were callers out there, too, sitting on the curb, or on a folding chair, cell phone in one hand, the list in the other.

Most of the numbers called don't reach a live person, but we reach some. I talked to about 10 people, and was lucky—they were all voting for Barack, and quite a few said they, themselves, were volunteers for the campaign, along with their husbands, kids, maybe even their pets.

I've mentioned this before, I think, but for me, the best thing about doing this calling and volunteering is the connection I feel with all those other people, both here where I live and all across the country, who care as much as I do about our country, feel dismay at how terribly we've been governed these past eight years, and who are working so hard, putting in so many hours, to change our direction. I've talked to people in North Carolina, in Florida, in Colorado, in Michigan, in Washington, in Wisconsin, and worked alongside old friends (and now some new ones) here in Davis. There is strength—and reassurance—in numbers. One more day.