When you’re canvassing for Democratic gun sense candidates in two districts that had a Trump majority in 2016, you never know what to expect when you knock on a stranger’s door. We can choose the parameters of what type of person we will be canvassing with the voter database the Democrats use. At this point we’re not trying to convert anyone but just make them aware of who our candidates are and why they should vote for them, and the parameters are set for households where someone was registered as Democrat in recent elections. So we are usually greeted by like-minded or at least courteous people.
The Bad and the Ugly:
There was one day in Hopkinton where for an hour nearly every door I went to was answered by someone telling me they were Republican, and I realized the wrong filters must have been entered, so I quit and later received the corrected turf. (That was the day I didn’t bother going to the door of the house with the pictured sign: “Warning, protected by the Second Amendment Security. No trespassing. Violators will be shot. Survivors will be shot again.” Though it was similar to one I’d seen in Richmond, which seemed more tongue in cheek and I was not afraid to leave literature at the door, it looked like this was where someone actually did target practice and I felt they really would have no compunction about shooting someone.)
Then there was the handful of men who took it upon themselves to speak for their wives who were actually the ones I was supposed to talk to.
And the crabby-faced man who yelled at me through the door window, “Whadda ya want! I got dogs here!” And when I held up a flyer, “I don’t want any!”
Side note: In many cases I could predict who would be supportive and who would not by their nonverbal cues- no doubt from all those years teaching about them as a speech-language pathologist. Often those who turned out to be GOP looked like they had a lemon sucking habit as they answered the door with a suspicious scowl. God forbid a smile should cross their lips. Of course there were friendly exceptions.
And there was the country road on the border of Connecticut with two houses displaying Confederate flags. Yes, this is Yankee New England, but there has always been a hardcore, hopefully tiny, fringe of racist rednecks in this neck of the woods, and they have been emboldened by the racist in chief.
The Good:
The best encounters were those people who the moment I said my candidates were Democrats, replied “They’ve got my vote!” or “I’m so glad someone is running against (the incumbents)!”
Lots of dogs, including one I loved that would make a perfect Sandy in “Annie”, cats (but not enough of them), and a few chickens. Only a couple of the dogs made me wish I carried Mace.
I usually went out alone but went twice with Moms Demand Action friends, which made for a more fun and efficient canvass. And safer too, I suppose. It was good to know Jenn was waiting in the car as I spoke with a man who was disgruntled about RI politics (I googled his specific issue and he was totally justified) who then led me to where his wife was out back, out of sight of the car, as she was the one on my list. There she was, in goggles, a dust mask, (leather?) apron, and with power tools, doing something woodcrafty. As I spoke with her she never removed the mask. I gave her the flyer and very brief spiel; she didn’t say one way or another where she stood. Before leaving I remarked about the woodwork, and she talked quite a bit about it, then said she could show me more stuff in her studio. I hesitated as I’d already been out of Jenn’s sight for several minutes, and told her I had someone waiting for me in the car. She looked at me and said, “So I listened to you but now you won’t listen to me?” Which I thought was pretty nervy of her since I’d only said a sentence or two about my candidate. So I said I’d come in for a minute, and did enjoy seeing her art and craftwork. When I got back to the car I asked Jenn if she had been ready to dial 911. That couple had better vote for Jennifer Douglas.
Two of my favorite encounters were with older people. One was an elderly man who I found out used to live in my village and worked as a lacemaker in the factory. He was friends and a co-worker of the couple who were our next door neighbors when we moved here nearly 30 years ago- they were well into their 80’s at the time. He invited me to come and visit him and his wife, and I’m thinking I’ll ask them for an oral history of their days in Alton for the historical society.
After the “Whadda ya want” man, my next stop couldn’t have been more pleasant. A woman with an accent graciously listened and took the literature, and then I remarked on the birds at her multiple birdfeeders. We had a nice birdy conversation, and I told her about Project Feederwatch, and she had me write it down so she could check out the website.
And rain, clouds, or shine, the autumn foliage was a treat.
In summary: 385 doors knocked, 191 face to face encounters. I am so hoping my two wonderful candidates are elected tomorrow.
Recent Comments