The Political Me

The stars have aligned just right--my 49th birthday will be here in a little over a week and I'm "seeking new experiences before it's everlastingly too late", Michigan is a battleground state in the election and through some fluke of fate I now live here and I haven't found any new quilting buddies.  The new politically involved me has arrived.  We are talking about a very ginger coming-out here.  As fragile as a butterfly coming out of it's chrysalis.  

It started when I got fired up watching the Republican Convention.  Afterwards, doing what any self-respecting homemaker needing an outlet for energy does, I got on the internet.  I found out where the GOP office is located in Grand Rapids.  On the ethereal font of all things informational I also found out that while we were in Utah this summer it had been broken into and ransacked. Ransacked as in computers smashed, wall hangings destroyed, and the goods stolen from the refrigerator. Even more frightening, in 2004 a shot was fired through the Grand Rapids GOP headquarters.  I think it was in a different location then . . . . I'm telling myself that anyway. Pulling the slippery, flimsy stuff together that is supposed to be my courage, I headed down to headquarters.  I got a free placard to put in my living room window (they were out of yard signs), got a sticker to put in my car window, and paid $10 for 5 McCain Palin buttons to wear.   I told the folks there I would be back to help with telephoning.  I was worried that so many phones were sitting there unmanned, but it didn't stop me from getting the heck out of there.  

The second time I went back I did phone calls for the Michigan Republican party and McCain/ Palin for President.  Or some person in my body did. (Yeah, it was that unreal to me.)  It was me and another young gal with some disabilities that I won't name, against the world.  We sat across the room from each other in a sea of telephones and in between calls had what conversation her limited hearing would allow for (okay, one of her disabilities is she is a little bit deaf.  A gal who was hard of hearing and another one who couldn't pronounce her name on the phones.  It was a rough afternoon at the GOP headquarters that afternoon).  

Back at home, a guy called me up and asked me to go door-to-door for McCain this coming Saturday.  I knew my mother and grandmother were going to be here, my first company in a year and a half--finally someone I know figured out where I live!!  I couldn't say "no" so I told him I would come in for one shift. Does anybody know if anyone has ever been shot for handing out literature?  Don't tell me, if you do.  I just hope I can pronounce my name correctly--it will be more embarrassing if I can't do it in person.

A couple of days ago I went down to headquarters for a third time to do more calls. Finally I found the grassroots!!  They were there, on the phones, the lovely grassroots!  I sat down to do calls and looked up on the wall and there it was, plain as day, my name on one of those big pieces of paper that first grade teachers use, at the top, no less.  It was a list of people signed up to go door to door on Saturday morning . . . .  yikes, no backing out now . . . 

Next, my experience at a McCain/Palin town hall last night . . .  complete with photos and an account of losing Tanner . . . .