The Oberlin Review
<< Front page Commentary March 7, 2008

On the Campaign Trail

There are certain events that we encounter on our road trip of life that are so clearly historically significant that we feel compelled to stop the car, get out and get involved. I hope never to have to face my grandchildren asking me about an event they’re studying in history class, only for me to realize that I drove on by it. It’s not enough for me to just slow down and rubberneck, without making some kind of personal connection.

These grandiose thoughts flew through my head as I sat at the Kal Penn/Eric Balfour pro-Obama propaganda event and looked down at the slip of paper on my desk. Are you willing to phone strangers to get out the vote for Obama? Check. No, scratch that, too awkward and impersonal. Are you willing to walk up to local strangers’ houses, knock on their doors and try to persuade them to vote for Obama? Sure, why not? Check. I was never the most enthusiastic proponent for Barack Obama; to be honest, Bill Richardson is my man. But I wanted to be a miniscule part of history and, at the same time, learn about democracy firsthand.

So after collecting a map of the neighborhood from the local Oberlin for Obama organizer, we set out with a bit of trepidation, brainstorming what talking points we might use to stimulate discussions.

At the first house we went to, a blonde woman in her 40s answered the door — but didn’t open it.

“Hi! We’re going around reminding people to vote and specifically to vote for Obama!” I raised my voice awkwardly so that it would penetrate the window. “Are you planning to vote for Obama?”

“No! I’m gonna vote for Hillary!” she proclaimed, with her small dog yipping away at her feet.

“Why is that?!” I asked.

“I just like what she has to say!”

Oh, so you’re one of those. When confronted with logic, the only appropriate response is a counteracting application of logic. I began my spiel about how Obama doesn’t take money from big interests and is therefore more tied to the desires of the American people.

Pretty soon, she cut me off. “When I said I was gonna vote for Hillary, I actually wasn’t sure. Honestly, I just didn’t want to talk to you guys. I’ll think about it.” She had opened the door by this point; yelling was no longer necessary.

“Okay, have a good day.” I said. Time to move on.

At the next house we went to, a chubby little boy opened the door and then ran to grab his mom.  After our introduction, she informed us that she was planning to vote for Hillary because “I just like her views.” When I pressed her to identify her main issue, she responded that health care was most important to her. I asked her if we could try to dissuade her and she responded frankly, “No, I think I’m pretty set.” I was in no mood to prolong this discussion because she, too, had a dog yapping abrasively at her side. I was starting to wonder if this middle-aged-white-woman-with-loud-dog demographic was subconsciously identifying with the Hillary-Bill dynamic that unfolded earlier in the primary season.

Our next attempt turned out to be a house full of Oberlin students. We talked to two white guys who both planned to vote for Obama. One of them exclaimed, “Obama’s the man!” and invited us inside. 

The next house belonged to two elderly black women. I felt silly as soon as they came to the door, as I correctly anticipated their Obama-thusiasm (“We just want to ask you to vote for Obama...” “Oh, we plan to! Come on in!”). The next two doors we knocked on were opened by black people as well. The first was answered by a guy our age and the next by an older couple that warmly invited us inside from the frigid cold as if we were part of their family.

The positive vibes we felt after the last few stops were soon squelched by possibly the most surreal person I have ever met. The door was answered by a dinosaur of a woman, who, leaning forward against the door frame for  life, belted out, “What ya sellin’?”

“Barack Obama,” I answered.

“What?! Have you heard his middle name?!” she rasped incredulously. “Have you seen the picture with all the politicians saluting to the American flag and he has his hand down refusin’ to do it?!?”

“Yes, but…he’s a Christian. Just because his middle name is Hussein doesn’t mean he’s Muslim. He goes to church...” I answered in shock.

“What kinda church?” she interrupted. “His church don’t exist! No, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it to our soldiers over there in Iraq.”

Canvassing for just two hours exposed me to the place where human nature and political beliefs meet. I spoke to people from almost every demographic, and each one planned to vote precisely the way the talking heads predicted they would. The blacks and college students went for Obama, while the white women refused to buy into his campaign. I left each house feeling that the person I had talked to didn’t know or care much about the actual issues. Each voter seemed to be making their choice based on which candidate they could better identify with. It makes me wonder: Is that the impetus behind my vote too?


 
 
   

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