Share This
Hippie Squared: Tales From the Precinct – Blasted Assumptions
.
A blogumn by Jeff Rogers
The screen door clatters under my knock. I stand at the side door under a drapery of morning glories and read the walk sheet: 74 Female.
The white woman with silver hair who appears out of the dimness in her flower-print blouse with built-in scarf, her smile bright and eyes lively, seems a good ten years younger than her listed age.
As I hand her the flyer for my candidate I launch into my rap: “Hi, I’m volunteering today for—“
One glance at the flyer and she breaks in, “Oh yes. He’s quite a nice-looking man, isn’t he?”
I stop and smile. “I guess so,” I say. I too am white, but she has still surprised me. Yes, she’s a registered Democract; yes this is Culver City, a Westside mostly liberal precinct. But my candidate for LA County Supervisor, known affectionately to supporters as MRT, is African-American, and in person quite charismatic, but let’s face it, he’s also somewhat short and portly.
She hands me back the flyer. “Don’t worry, I’ll vote for him.” She raises her eyebrows and gives me a sly smile. “Just based on his looks.”
I’ve decided, to my own surprise, that I love precinct walking.
Yesterday in Inglewood I talked to Vera, 83 and African-American. She too looked a decade younger than the age on her walk sheet. Precinct walking has made me optimistic about aging. Vera assured me immiately that MRT had her vote, but I also saw her eying my “Labor for Obama” button.
“How are you feeling about the Presidential contest?” I asked.
“Cautiously optimistic,” she said and I nodded. “There are still a lot of people out there who are going to say one thing and when they get in the voting booth do something different.” She held a gentle smile and spoke softly throughout our conversation.
“The Bradley effect,” I said. Neither of us actually said the words “black,” “white” or “racism,” but we picked our words carefully and held each other’s gaze close.
“I grew up in the south,” she said. Born in 1925. “And I know it’s still out there.” I continued to nod and felt my eyes moisten. All that she’s lived through and all the change that she’s seen; and yet the persistence of what remains stubborn and unchanged. In a sense, it all comes to a head next week.
“It still affects me, too,” she said. “Sometimes I don’t know it at the time. It’s only later I think, ‘that was weird,’ and then I realize.” We talked a little while longer. She offered me water and thanked me for my work, and we wished each other luck.
In the normal round of my life in Los Angeles I likely never would have met these women, much less talked to them beyond a nod and a smile on the off chance we shared a grocery line. Who knows what unchecked assumptions we might have made about each other. The conversations you enter into precinct walking are not self-selected; they blast unconcious assumptions and offer human surprises that might otherwise forever elude you.
On my normal route I never would have driven down these women’s streets unless improvising a jagged shortcut around a traffic jam. At best I would have flown past on a main drag bracketing the neigborhood. But now I’ve walked their sidewalks in the sun. I’ve seen the old bungalows and the new McMansions. I’ve met the dogs and admired the flowers and saw the browning grass and the native plantings. I’ve seen the chipped paint on windowsills and the fresh new adobe and yesterday saw the imprint of address letters on the wall by a door where they’d been pulled off a foreclosure.
With just a week left until the election it’s not too late, by the sort of random sampling precinct-walking offers, to become intimately familiar with a few small patches of this huge city and gain the odd special insight into a few precise souls among the millions of people we share it with.
Wow Jeff, what a great way to help your candidates and get to know your neighbors. You’ve made me want to do door-to-door.
Wow Jeff, what a great way to help your candidates and get to know your neighbors. You’ve made me want to do door-to-door.
Wow Jeff, what a great way to help your candidates and get to know your neighbors. You’ve made me want to do door-to-door.
I’m tellin’ ya. It’s an experience worth having. It’s surprising too how few people give you a hard time. Because that’s an easy worry to have. Mostly, if people don’t want to be bothered, they don’t answer the door. Even that can be amusing. Saturday I had a woman talking loudly on her cell phone, making no pretense whatsoever of not being home (she also had a very loud doorbell), who never came to the door or acknowledged me in anyway. I can’t really blame her, necessarily; it was just amusing.
On a precinct walk in West Adams last May my partner said she thought the “Six Feet Under” house was near us. So I googled it and found the address and we drove by it. We wouldn’t have known, because it’s just a house, not a funeral parlor, and it’s a sort of nondescript color, but once we knew it was the house we could see it–it had Claire’s guesthouse out back and everything. Pretty cool.
I’m tellin’ ya. It’s an experience worth having. It’s surprising too how few people give you a hard time. Because that’s an easy worry to have. Mostly, if people don’t want to be bothered, they don’t answer the door. Even that can be amusing. Saturday I had a woman talking loudly on her cell phone, making no pretense whatsoever of not being home (she also had a very loud doorbell), who never came to the door or acknowledged me in anyway. I can’t really blame her, necessarily; it was just amusing.
On a precinct walk in West Adams last May my partner said she thought the “Six Feet Under” house was near us. So I googled it and found the address and we drove by it. We wouldn’t have known, because it’s just a house, not a funeral parlor, and it’s a sort of nondescript color, but once we knew it was the house we could see it–it had Claire’s guesthouse out back and everything. Pretty cool.
I’m tellin’ ya. It’s an experience worth having. It’s surprising too how few people give you a hard time. Because that’s an easy worry to have. Mostly, if people don’t want to be bothered, they don’t answer the door. Even that can be amusing. Saturday I had a woman talking loudly on her cell phone, making no pretense whatsoever of not being home (she also had a very loud doorbell), who never came to the door or acknowledged me in anyway. I can’t really blame her, necessarily; it was just amusing.
On a precinct walk in West Adams last May my partner said she thought the “Six Feet Under” house was near us. So I googled it and found the address and we drove by it. We wouldn’t have known, because it’s just a house, not a funeral parlor, and it’s a sort of nondescript color, but once we knew it was the house we could see it–it had Claire’s guesthouse out back and everything. Pretty cool.
Nice. Thank you!!
;-)
Nice. Thank you!!
;-)
Nice. Thank you!!
;-)
Great work, Jeff.
Keep it up, my brother.
Great work, Jeff.
Keep it up, my brother.
Great work, Jeff.
Keep it up, my brother.
Rog,
Great to hear from you. Keep fighting the good fight….
Frank
Rog,
Great to hear from you. Keep fighting the good fight….
Frank
Rog,
Great to hear from you. Keep fighting the good fight….
Frank
Hey Jeff!
Thought i’d write this before we possibly lose electricity here on the wild north coast (our first winter storm – Happy Halloween!). Nice blogg’in bro – fun to read you in action and i appreciate your perspective on life. I really liked hearing about your experience canvasing . . . Going door to door, is a rich way of connecting with the diversity of incredible people that make up this country – it is the people, not the government, that truly defines the USA. I remember the great heart connections i experienced when i went door to door for OSPIRG. Thanks for being the brave-blogger and inspiring me to do the same.
Hasta pasta,
Karin
Hey Jeff!
Thought i’d write this before we possibly lose electricity here on the wild north coast (our first winter storm – Happy Halloween!). Nice blogg’in bro – fun to read you in action and i appreciate your perspective on life. I really liked hearing about your experience canvasing . . . Going door to door, is a rich way of connecting with the diversity of incredible people that make up this country – it is the people, not the government, that truly defines the USA. I remember the great heart connections i experienced when i went door to door for OSPIRG. Thanks for being the brave-blogger and inspiring me to do the same.
Hasta pasta,
Karin
Hey Jeff!
Thought i’d write this before we possibly lose electricity here on the wild north coast (our first winter storm – Happy Halloween!). Nice blogg’in bro – fun to read you in action and i appreciate your perspective on life. I really liked hearing about your experience canvasing . . . Going door to door, is a rich way of connecting with the diversity of incredible people that make up this country – it is the people, not the government, that truly defines the USA. I remember the great heart connections i experienced when i went door to door for OSPIRG. Thanks for being the brave-blogger and inspiring me to do the same.
Hasta pasta,
Karin
Hey Man!
Thanks for writing about how cool door-knocking can be. I did a lot of it in the last presidential election and it was an eye opener. It is really amazing to get out and talk to the population! Your take on it was very eloquent and I hope it helps people see how interesting it can be.
Miss ya!
M
Hey Man!
Thanks for writing about how cool door-knocking can be. I did a lot of it in the last presidential election and it was an eye opener. It is really amazing to get out and talk to the population! Your take on it was very eloquent and I hope it helps people see how interesting it can be.
Miss ya!
M
Awesome, ya dirty hippie! Keep it up!
Awesome, ya dirty hippie! Keep it up!