The thing is, I always thought it would happen in an epic, heroic fashion, like taking a bullet for him, tackling him to get him out of the way of a Manchurian Candidate-esque rogue Secret Service agent, or getting run off a Missouri highway in a rainstorm by a racist southern trucker. It ended up being nowhere near that exciting.
Nonetheless, it's true. I bled for our next president.
The story itself isn't all that exciting. It involved a windstorm, a flying festival tent (those folding, white-topped tents under which you set up popcorn stands and all your best photography), and a conceivably misplaced but definitely well-meant attempt to put myself between the tent and a few poor souls looking in the completely wrong direction and one very nice car. End result: before I could catch the tent, the tent caught me... in the forehead.
The thing about foreheads is they don't have very many nerves – I felt the tent hit me, but I didn't feel much of any sustained pain at all. The other thing about foreheads is they don't really stop bleeding. So, as I caught the tent and worked with a few other festival goers to hold it down and fold it up, I failed to notice that I actually had a head wound and was bleeding profusely. The gash ended up being decently deep, and I spent Sunday afternoon, high voter registration time, watching the old version of Batman from a bed in the UPMC Shadyside ER waiting to get four stitches above my left eye.
A coworker of mine (being from Oklahoma, he happens to know a bit about windstorms) told me afterwards that he hoped I learned my lesson – when large objects start flying, run away from them, not towards them. Unfortunately, the only lesson I think I learned from the experience is that if I ever really need a few hours off, the easiest way to get it is by getting injured.
I got the stitches out on Friday, and besides for a ½ inch gash healing over my left eyebrow that may or may not scar, I'm doing just fine. The experience was, however, my first real in-country experience with not knowing whether my health insurance would cover a necessary medical visit, oddly applicable to this election.
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One of the quirks about organizing is that you start to get pretty good at reading people's politics without ever actually talking to them. I've spoken with so many people about voting and the election in the last six weeks that I stereotype their political views before, or while, speaking with them. I have come to the subconscious conclusion, for example, that all black men over fifty are registered to vote. The political arguments for this stereotype are obvious: because either they themselves remember not being allowed to vote, or their parents spent a majority of their lives not voting and burned the need into the minds of their children, it is purely a matter of principle. And my experience on the street has only legitimized the stereotype.
These reads can be detrimental to my work (I must make a conscious effort to not allow my preconceptions to alter who I speak to and who I don't), but at many times they are extremely helpful: every day, I get better at phrasing questions and channeling discussions in certain directions based on the perceived political beliefs of the voter (or non-voter) I am speaking with in order to build connections that allow for discussion and persuasion.
Sometimes, however, I am dead wrong.
A few weeks ago, I attended a neighborhood house meeting, planned and run by a friend and co-fellow, of elderly folks mostly living in a retirement complex in Pittsburgh's neighborhood of Oakland. Everyone there was over fifty, and most were at least sixty-five. The subject of concern was a man who, despite his age (I would guess around sixty), was in extremely good shape. He buzz-cut kept his balding silver-gray hair looking clean and professional, and he wore white Champion athletic socks, clean sneakers, and a short sleeved shirt tucked into his shorts. Before the organized discussion, I overheard him mention to someone else that he was a long-time snowbird – he voted in Florida, where he spent every winter.
This man was clearly a Republican – I couldn't figure out why he was at the meeting. He looked like he lifted weights daily and biked on a stationary bike for two hours a day watching Fox News. He probably drove a pickup truck and owned at least three guns. (Not that any of these things would bar him from being an Obama supporter – it just made it a whole lot less likely!)
As usual, when the organized part of the meeting began, each person in the room took a few minutes to introduce themselves and tell the group why they had chosen to come. (This is an integral part of Obama-style community organizing, how we won Iowa, and why the campaign brings so many different kinds of people together.) When it finally became this guy's turn to tell his story, he began speaking intelligently and in detail about how the last eight years have deeply affected the United States' international moral standing, the misinformation that sent us into a poorly-planned war we should never have started, and the immediate need of electing Obama, someone who was already changing the face of American politics and who represented a huge step forward for the country. He didn't stop there, however: his two biggest heroes, he told us, are his own Democratic Representative from Florida Robert Wexler and Rep. Kucinich (D-OH), because of their unwillingness to stop fighting against the illegal actions of the Bush White House.
He has volunteered at least twice a week since that meeting, and will continue to do so until he starts volunteering in Florida when he moves down in October. He completely made my day, and has served as a reminder that this campaign can truly find supporters in every corner.
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As you probably know, Barack Obama has been spending the last week or so rallying support abroad, including making a quite epic speech at the Siegessaeule in Berlin in front of 200,000 people, his biggest crowd yet. (If you have not seen the 23 minute speech, you should see it or read the transcript here.) Besides for sounding amazingly presidential and giving me goosebumps as is customary, the speech was unusually symbolic for me in a few ways.
First, I got to listen to a crowd of Europeans chant, "USA! USA! USA!", something I'm not sure has happened since the end of World War II and which I didn't really expect to happen in my lifetime. And, 200,000 people!?! Last I checked, the vast majority of gatherings that large in the last decade anywhere in the European Union have been Anti-Bush protests.
Second, by talking seriously about global warming and climate change, he brings legitimacy to the issues. Climate change needs to be addressed NOW, but far too many Americans continue to believe is bad science and/or progressive fear-mongering. (to give McCain credit, he is talking about climate issues too, but as he just reversed his position to defend offshore drilling, I'm not sure how serious he is and believe he is only talking about it because Barack is talking about it.)
Third, just days after the Iraqi Prime Minister essentially endorsed his withdrawal plan, Barack spoke about fighting for democracy with food and aid, as we did during the Soviet Blockade of Berlin in 1948, and becoming again a moral beacon for the world that we once were. Believe it or not, we might actually have found a Democratic political leader who can be "strong on defense" while advocating for nuclear disarmament and peaceful diplomacy, with our enemies as well as our allies.
Finally, while he gave the speech on Thursday, July 24, I did not get to watch it until Friday afternoon. Between the actual speech and my watching it, I was offered a paid job on the campaign. For the last six weeks, I have been working full time as an unpaid "Organizing Fellow," but that commitment ended a few days ago. Don't get me wrong: ever since I first volunteered before the Maryland primary, I have felt a part of this campaign and movement. But watching that speech on Friday, I could not stop repeating to myself, "I work for that man." Let me tell you, it's a mighty cool feeling.
~m
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