The monday night before the election it was raining in Cleveland.
I was assigned to Newburgh Heights, just outside of the city. I was wearing a yellow transparent poncho, carrying door knocking lit and a clipboard. Hours ago most would have described me as drenched. I struggled to keep my clipboard and literature dry, while attempting to navigate my way around neighborhoods I had never seen.
Step by step, blisters stung my feet. Since noon I had been avoiding tending to them, knowing that being diabetic, once I removed my shoes, I would not be able to continue. Ignorance was bliss.
Lightning strikes were close by. It was 7pm, so it was dark. I arrived at the first address on what would be the last piece of turf I was assigned on that day. I had been out on the streets since 7am ... going door to door asking for votes.
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