The Wimp Makes Calls

Dialing for democracy.

While working on Part 2 of our Route 6 pie adventure, the following came up. No matter what happens, we’re all in this mess together!

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My husband spent five days in Scranton canvassing for voters. He’s calling people to urge them to vote. He’s emailing friends, family, and strangers, asking them to be involved in the election.

Meanwhile, I am out looking for pies or sitting in my little room trying not to mangle another sentence.

Yesterday, he leaned in my doorway after finishing his latest round of calls and said, “whatever happens, at least I’ll feel I tried.”

“Damn it,” I said to myself. Then I looked around for the link he sent a week ago and signed up for two hours of calling strangers out of the blue. It seemed easy enough: the organization had set up a program that automatically dialed numbers until someone answered. I would introduce myself and politely ask if they intended to a) vote, b) vote for a specific congressional candidate, c) vote for proposition 1 to expand the state’s Equal Rights Amendment, specifically in regards to protecting reproductive health.

I should have taken a screen shot but this is what I stared at while waiting for someone to answer their phone. Joke appreciated.

This is the state of our union: a deeply introverted, phone phobic woman has just spent the last two hours willingly calling strangers and urging them to vote tomorrow.

Some responses I received:

• “I can’t wait!”

• “I’m still thinking about it but I’ll vote.”

• “My mom’s taking me. It’s my first time. I guess the Democrats. That’s what my Mom said. Proposition 1? (I tell her about it) YEAH!”

• (Sighs….)“Oh, God, not another call!” (Hangs up.)

• “You don’t have to ask me. I’m a poll watcher, God help me.”

• “They’re all crooks.”

• “Tell you the truth, I found this phone in a bar. People keep calling for this Amanda chick. Yeah, I voted but I’m in Kentucky. We don’t have that proposition thing.”

• “I hate Trump’s guts but I’m voting for him anyway.”

• “I don’t feel comfortable talking over the phone about this.”

• “It’s too volatile a situation out there for me to tell you who but, yeah, I voted.”

• “TAKE ME OFF YOUR LIST! I’VE HAD IT WITH THESE PHONE CALLS!” (slams the phone down.)

• “I think I am.”

• “Straight down the Democratic line and proud to do it.”

• “It’s none of your damn business.”

• “Yeah, Harris. Yeah, the proposition.” (Abruptly hangs up.)

• “You know where I’m supposed to go?” (The program tells me where her precinct is.)

• “I don’t know who I’m voting for….I can’t even decide what I’m cooking for dinner tonight!”

• (Stops me after introducing myself.) “Don’t bother, honey. I’m a Republican.”

• “Thank you for doing this. I’m praying for everybody.”

• “Yep. Already have.” (Unenthusiastic, but he voted.)

• “It’s too important not to, right?”
  

The two hours were exhausting and nerve wracking, waiting for people to answer their phone and talking to them for what was, really, only a few minutes. But it was pretty awesome, too. It seemed like we were all in the same boat, exhausted, nerves wracked. I was having conversations with people who might not see things the way I did but, in one way or another, we all hoped that voting would move our country forward.

At the end of my shift there was still a half an hour to go until the cocktail hour but my husband agreed it was well deserved and should be moved up. After dinner, we both agreed we earned splitting the hunk of cherry pie I brought home from the Great American Pie Muddle trip.

Before we collapsed into bed, I signed up for another two hours today. My husband did two hours this morning. I’m starting mine in a little bit. I think there’s one more piece of leftover pie in the refrigerator for tonight.

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Another sign we came upon along Route 6. in Milford, Pennsylvania. It honors David Wilmot who had great hopes when he helped established the Republican Party.

P.S.: Come on back later this week when Part 2 of the Route 6 pie search should be up and running.

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