The stoned guy didn’t know where his ballot was, but definitely somewhere else, maybe Ohio? Our conversation was friendly but didn’t exactly land anywhere.
He was mid bong-hit when I opened the front gate to the porch. I apologized for the interruption. This has never happened before on a get-out-the-vote walk. But he was nice and told me his roommate was definitely voting. A few houses away on another porch, there were no people, just a couple chairs, a table, and a bong. I can see how weed is a popular issue with voters.
Another guy, without a bong, explained to me passionately about his identity as an apolitical person. This is incredibly boring to me, this way of being. Anyway he was going to vote and it was very top secret, and he spoke to me like I was the FBI.
Me, I will tell anyone who I vote for or how I voted, no problem, no secret.
One house opened to a 3-year old and dogs. Finally an adult passed through the room carrying a laundry basket. They were definitely voting.
I got out and got a lot done in terms of walking the houses I was supposed to check in with— did they get their ballot? Do they plan to vote? This method increases voter participation, the data says so.
Politics is a lot of ongoing conversations so I really like it.
An elderly voter shouted I VOTED TODAY from her sick bed off the front door. She sounded proud about it. I liked her spirit.
Speaking of spirits, an old friend of mine died last week. I traced our emails to 2015, which is now kind of a long time ago and our time feels like a hollowed-out tree, holy like an old yew in England, by a church. The center is open.
I know she she would like this image too.
This month I’m feeling this way, a certain kind of feeling I am surprised to have, which is a glow, or warmth, or hope, or love. I think it’s love. It’s the love in the mix kind of thing, within exchanges between others, not even romantic others but situations that engender love we might say but I don’t know if this is even the right word, maybe not. It’s a little like a buzz but not as superficial. It lays down a network that can always be connected.
Anyway I felt it again today in the midst of meeting new people who are volunteering to help democrats get out the vote. They come over to my house to pick up materials or we talk or text on the phone. I hear them, I feel them, and I am more joyful in some way that has nothing to do with politics but politics brought it about.
I feel this sometimes not as a memory but as an in the moment thing and it’s a bit like I step outside of myself and the moment and witness the moment and the person and place and weather and it’s like being bathed in the bits of matter that are all present ingredients. Even though temporary, they hold together perfectly enough to feel as solid as the dirt, as solid as gravity.
Sometimes it happens all of a sudden like a second layer on my skin, not touching but sensed.
I’m not sure what I’m trying to describe but it came up today as a thing I have noticed but not tried to put into words because not everything needs to be put in words.
Keep fightin' for freedom and justice, beloveds, but don't you forget to have fun doin' it. Lord, let your laughter ring forth. Be outrageous, ridicule the fraidy-cats, rejoice in all the oddities that freedom can produce. And when you get through kickin' ass and celebratin' the sheer joy of a good fight, be sure to tell those who come after how much fun it was.
- Molly Ivins
Vote