Overdosed on Lutherans (January 7, 2009)

I put my status on FB as "overdosed on Lutherans" as a sort of humorous thing. Actually, it's not that I OD'd on Lutherans in particular, it was just a somewhat later night last night than I'm used to. I had a work day starting at 7:30 AM, and didn't end until after 9:00. So I'm tired this morning. But I wanted to say a little more.

Since I'm heading up an interfaith organization, I'm considered a "ministry leader" by some of the churches, and I get invited from time to time to more really internal discussions. Last night was one of those times.

The church is in one of these sorts of suburban communities in which everyone is white and upper middle class. Nearly everyone goes to the public school because its all white and upper middle class. None of the streets go through, and its miles to walk anywhere, even to your neighbors in a different subdivision. Most of the houses were built in the last 25 years, and probably even most of them were built in the last 15 years.

The meeting was in one of these nice homes, the sort where you can have a meeting of twenty people and comfortably seat them in your informal dining and family room areas. It started at 6:30, and included a potluck supper.

One of the things that really struck me, from my conversations with people before the meeting while having supper, and then in the meeting itself, was how these were people who were really engaged in a search for meaning and authenticity.

It's pretty easy for people to dismiss folks in these suburban settings. And dismiss them for the same things that I heard people at the meeting say that they were struggling against: pretending that everything is perfect, trying to maintain status or one-up those around them, having only superficial relationships, inability to find things that really mattered.

I also think it is easy for people who don't have much truck with organized religion to also dismiss people seriously engaged in the structures of organized religion - clusters and committees and the synod.
But what I witnessed was that people were using their involvement the church to find a way to break through the traps of suburban culture to figure out who they really are, to form deeper relationships with their fellows, to make a difference in the world.

I can understand why some folks don't want to have this sort of search dressed up in "Lord" and "Jesus" and "ministry" and "discipleship". But I came out of that meeting impressed with those who do.

Saturday afternoon (December 20, 2008)

 

We've had a cascade of colds and then some secondary infections around here. We keep on meaning to buy more tissues at the store, but we'd forget. Consequently, every box of tissues was completely used up. We started to go to using toilet paper to blow our noses instead. When I pulled out the last roll of toilet paper, I knew we had a crisis on our hands.

I wasn't 100% keen on going out, because they've been predicting our second big arctic blast around here to begin in the afternoon. Sure enough, by the time I finally got into the car with Emma for an expedition to Fred Meyer (our regional big box retailer - we really don't have WalMarts here), it was beginning to snow lightly and the wind was just starting to blow.

Fred Meyer was a madhouse. The combination of a storm coming that threatens to blow down the powerlines plus the last weekend before Christmas meant the place was jammed. We couldn't get a shopping cart. Emma tried to fetch one on the other side of the store, only to find two women nearly at blows over the one empty one left in the cart corral. Shelves were emptied of firewood, matches, and batteries. The lines were immense.

We got baskets, and then set out. I got 6 boxes of tissues, and an enormous package of a dozen rolls of TP. Emma found a couple of cans of chicken soup for her father, per his request. I thought of all the poor birds out there with nothing to eat, and I bought a bird feeder and bird food. I figured it would double as an early Xmas present for our cat.

Our line for the cash register probably had two dozen people in it. We abandoned the line for one in Home Electronics, which was only three deep. (Pretty smart, eh?) After we dumped everything in the car, we went to the South Asian mall on the other side of the parking lot. Why not. I got a block of paneer, and then a pile of Indian sweets: pistachio barfi, soan papdi, and something new made out of cashews I haven't tried before. By the time we returned to the car, it was covered. I got an old tape cassette cover and scraped the windshields of the accumulated snow and ice.

We crept through the blowing snow back to the house. I filled and put up the bird feeder, then watched it sway in the wind. Probably it'll blow down by morning. It might not the best evening to put up a bird feeder - when they're predicting a blizzard. But if it stays up, the birds will be fed; and our bored silly cat, who doesn't like to go out in the cold, will have some greater amusement in her life.

Roo (December 3, 2008)

At work, Roo has become my special friend, who has waited for me to arrive in the morning, and then sits on my lap all day. Many days I’ve seen more of Roo than my own cat at home.

Roo’s health has quite deteriorated over recent weeks. Already quite thin, he’s gotten to be just skin and bones. One of his eyes is now cloudy.

Out of concern for our friend, we arranged for Roo to receive a special blessing from Father Fred Jessett from Good Samaritan Episcopal Church today. We thanked Roo for the comfort, joy, and companionship he has brought to our staff and residents.

I do not expect Roo to live out the week.

The Ocean (Last edited November 17, 2008)

 When I was in downtown on Friday, I saw the Sound. It reminded me of how, when I worked downtown, while I was so close, I rarely walked the four blocks or so to be actually on the waterfront.

This memory and reflection then caused me to be seized with the impulse to go to the ocean. Not the Sound, the ocean, where you look out and the water blends into the horizon, and there's no land until you hit Siberia. That ocean.

My husband was sort of eeyore-ishly despondent about the idea that I'd go to the ocean. "Poor me, deprived of your company for yet another day." And it's hard for me on a Saturday morning to pop out of bed and feel like I want to drive three hours. So I didn't go to the ocean. I did go with Emma to Discovery Park, and we walked along the beach there for several hours, including visiting the lighthouse. It was very pretty, you could see Mt. Baker and the Olympics, and lots of sailboats were out - but it wasn't the ocean.

With Emma's birthday on the 16th, it was impractical for me to take off on Sunday. Instead, I worked a half day from home. Then, I left this morning. It's a long drive - three hours if you go the speed limit - and it isn't like going to Vancouver or Portland, which are also three hours away, but you can also do by train. You pretty much have to drive.

When I was a kid, we went to the ocean twice a year - for a week in the summer, and a week in the winter. We'd rent a house in Moclips, either a one-family house, or a larger house with my parents' friends, the Lowrys. After I turned 10, we went a little less frequently, but still often enough.

When I moved back to the Pacific Northwest, I went with my husband, maybe in 1990, back for the first time in many years. I was shocked - they had cut down all the trees. I saw nothing but acres of stumps. The timber industry was dead - there was lots of resentment of the spotted owl, but seriously - they had cut down every last tree it seemed, so to blame an endangered owl seemed to pretty stupid to me. The little towns from Ocean Park to the Quinault Reservation were in serious decline. We went out a couple of other times through the years, and every time, it got more and more depressing. The old seaside motels looked more and more weather-beaten; the mercantiles closed and boarded up; Moclips High School closed; no place to eat out except all the way at Ocean Shores.

When I drove out today, it was measured against both my childhood memories of a familiar road, and what I know of from more recent trips. It's been nearly twenty years since I was shocked by the acres of stumps, and many of those acres are now young forests. The towns at least are now in a holding pattern of decay, as opposed to continuing on a more precipitous slide down.

I got as far as Ocean Park, and it was good enough. I got out of the car, walked towards the surf. I walked for maybe 45 minutes just there at Ocean Park. It was as sunny as it gets on the coast - patches of blue sky, and for a bit, I could even see my shadow. The wind was blowing fiercely.

I got back in the car and drove up the road to Roosevelt Beach. It was now much cloudier. I walked from Roosevelt Beach to Joe Creek, just south of the town of Pacific Beach, and then back again. The sky darkened and it became misty. By the end of the walk, it was misting lightly - not quite a rain. From when I got out of the car, I didn't see anyone, until a couple with a dog in the distance near Joe Creek. After I turned around, I didn't see anyone but an older couple on the wooded trail that leads you to the road so you can cross Elk Creek.

So, maybe three and a half hours of solitude. The swells curling towards shore. The never-ending wind. Little skitterings of sandpipers. An osprey kettling. Sand dollars, mussels, razor clams, crab shells, and kelp washed up on the sand.

There was some trash, but not a lot - not as much as I remember there being. There was a tiny fraction of driftwood that there was in my youth. I guess this is what happens when logging ceases - logs no longer break free on rivers, are no longer carried out to sea and wash up on the shore.

A long walk with few words, except the roar of my own consciousness. From time to time I stood in the wind, felt it on my face, smelled the sea, listened to the waves break.

I got back to the car. I drove to Pacific Beach, then turned to Copalis Crossing. On the way out of that little hamlet, before the Humptulips River, there was a sign for fresh eggs. I turned into the driveway, and there was another sign: Eggs Honk. So I honked, and a grandma came out with two dozen eggs in one arm and an infant in the other. I gave her some money, put the cartons on the floor of the car.

While it was partly during rush hour, traffic home wasn't bad - just a little slow in Tacoma and again in Renton. Nearly three hours to get home.

I went to the ocean. I needed to go. I'm glad I went.

Thoughts on canvassing (Last edited October 26, 2008)

I did a little canvassing (a.k.a., doorbelling) in previous elections. I did more in the 2004 and 2006 elections, and even more this election year.

Why I do this work:

I like meeting our neighbors. Canvassing is an excuse to knock on people's doors and say hello. I prefer to canvass my precinct or the adjacent ones, so I can say, "I'm your neighbor" when I introduce myself. Some people I guess like to meet their neighbors too, and I'm invited in, or our conversations are relatively long on the doorstep, driveway, or street.

I'm genuinely interested in what people have to say. While I don't like hostility, I don't mind disagreement. I realize that my higher calling while canvassing can be simply this: to listen. Example: some white guy, in his late 50s, starts off yesterday by telling me he doesn’t want to talk politics with anyone. I’m cheerful and say that’s fine, and start to mark down “refused” on the walk sheet, and then he proceeds to talk politics with me for maybe the next twenty minutes. I give a few prompts, like, “what issues concern you the most in this election?” However, it’s mostly me saying things like, “uh huh”, or “I hear you” or “I can see why you feel that way”. Maybe only once or twice did I offer some sort of thoughts of my own on why My Candidates would be better on his concerns.

I think there’s a lot of folks who feel that their voices aren’t heard; guys like this one who feel cynical, or disempowered in the existing system. With my badge and clipboard, I appear to be a representative of officialdom, even if all I am is a neighbor from a house a few blocks away. One of things I hope I do bring is greater empowerment to the people I meet, in the form of voter registration forms and information.

The information people seek, though, is rarely in the form of the glossy campaign "lit" that I carry with me. Often it's practical - how to I get an absentee ballot? Do we have early voting in this state, and how can I do that? Where's my polling location? What's a good website to check on the claims of the campaigns? Where can I get a yard sign? One of the most useful things I have is not glossy - a simple door-hanger that gives down-ticket endorsements of initiatives and judicial races. Most people know of and have formed opinions about the presidential race. Who knows who is a good candidate for state appellate court judge?

My guess is that, by the end of this election, I will have been to over a thousand people's doorsteps, and actually talked to hundreds. Based on this experience, I will offer advice to those considering canvassing in these last few days before the election:

Creature comforts:

• Wear comfortable, sturdy shoes.
• Dress in layers - dress to keep warm, but you may warm up walking and you may need to shed one
• Wear a hat to keep your head dry, your body warm, or keep the sun out of your eyes
• Carry a water bottle and an energy bar.
• Use the bathroom before you go.
• Plan for a lunch break

Take with you:

• A clipboard - the field office can provide you with one if you don't have one.
• Pens - at least two, because you'll misplace at least one and one is likely to run out.
• Campaign lit (provided by the campaign)
• Walk sheet and map (provided by the campaign)
• Cell phone
• Voter registration forms, unless registration has already closed in the state for the election
• Field office phone number and address, so you can refer potential volunteers directly
• A large canvass shoulder bag that can hold the above items. A backpack leaves your hands free, but you have to take it off on a continual basis to get at the contents. You can just reach into shoulder bag while it's on.

If it's raining, add:

• As water proof a jacket as you own
• A broad-brimmed rain shedding hat. You won't have the ability to juggle an umbrella with everything else
• A clear plastic bag to have over your clipboard and walksheets. You need to write on the walksheets with the clear plastic OVER the sheet and your hand in the bag.
• Ballpoint pens only. Do not use a pen with ink that runs.
• A gallon-sized ziplock for your walksheets. They probably will get semi-shredded anyway, but you'll do what you can.

Strategies:

Study your walksheet and map and plan your walking route. If you're driving to the location, figure out where you want to park. I don't care what order you get your walksheet in, it's never the right one for you. Some people like to do all the odds on a street, then walk back and do all the evens. Other people like to criss-cross the street. It's better to plan your route before you hit the street, then to constantly be juggling walksheets and the map and trying to figure out where you're going next.

I figure 10 - 12 doorsteps per hour in our area. I don't know if that's fast or slow. It takes longer where the lots are bigger, quicker in apartments where you don't have to go as far between doors. Even when no one's home, it takes time to knock, wait, cram lit into door jamb, mark your walksheet, and find your next door.

Get a walking list for as close to your home as possible. You want your precinct, adjacent precincts, or at least, general neighborhood. Describe yourself as a neighbor in your introduction.

Know the purpose of the canvass. Are you finding unregistered voters? Convincing undecideds? Getting out the vote for supporters?

Read the script, get a feel for it, then don't use it. It's bad enough on the phone when people telephone with a "canned" feel to their voice. It's death on the doorstep. You should know the purpose of your call, and then put everything in your own words. If you have personal reasons for supporting the candidate, use them.

Knock. Even in nice neighborhoods, half the time the doorbell doesn't work. Knock hard but just a couple of raps. Don't knock again unless you have evidence that there's someone in the house but there's no movement (like, you can hear the TV in the house, but you can't hear anyone getting up and walking to the door).

Ask for the person by name that you are supposed to be reaching. I've learned this the hard way, especially in this campaign, where there is often a generation gap between the older, ossified Republican parents and the young Democrat living at home with them.

Be cheerful and friendly. When people turn you away because they don't want to discuss politics with strangers or they're busy or they consider their vote private or whatever, say you understand completely, thank them, and leave. If people are nutcases ("the only government I believe in is the one headed by Christ the King"), thank them for their time and leave. If people are hostile - very rare - do not return hostility with hostility. Thank them as you are backing (running?) away, and leave.

Listen. As I said at the first of this long post, I think listening is sometimes the most important thing you can do as a canvasser. This is especially important when dealing with undecideds. Find out what their concern is. Do they fear Obama's inexperienced? Are they upset about their retirement fund in the tank? Maybe professional doorbellers think that all this listening time is time wasted, but I'm not being paid by the hour, and the extra time spent is part of what I think the job is about. One time I spent half an hour on a woman's doorstep, an "undecided" when I arrived. I did little more than active listening, with an occasional fact or position thrown in, and by the end of the conversation, she had convinced herself that Obama was her man.

Offer information as appropriate. If you don't know the resource, the facts or the candidate's position on something, say so, and say you'll get back with the right answer. Mark it on your walk sheet. When you're giving personal opinion, state that it's personal opinion. Don't argue unless you have the facts behind you and you can substantiate them AND you think that you won't be perceived as angry or unpleasant.

Turn in your paperwork as soon as you're done. With the election just days away, your field office needs to input the information immediately. Again, I know this through hard experience! It's too easy to procrastinate. Just return your walksheets and any leftover lit that day.

This is the end of my thoughts on canvassing. I welcome your comments - especially if you have done canvassing yourself.

The end of Facebook Notes

 I am sad to find out that Facebook is discontinuing Notes. I will be transferring all my old Notes to Blogger.