I've been out here in rural Nevada for the past few days, seeing what GOTV means for the first time in my life.
Today I had a really inspiring experience. It reminded me of why I'm here, what we're fighting for, and how much difference one person can make.
Her name is Sarah. She's an African-American woman in her 80s. She's on oxygen, very frail, and can't leave her house any more because she isn't strong enough to get down the stairs. She has home help 24 hours/day.
She was on my walk list yesterday, but I couldn't get to her door because of her gate. So I called.
We didn't have the best connection, owing to poor cell coverage out here, but I could make out her saying, "I want to talk to you in person," and, "I want to vote," and "I want to know what's going on." And we muddled through the conversation so she could give me the instructions of how to get through her gate.
I arrived back at Sarah's this morning. I followed her gate instructions and got to the door. A young woman answered and I asked for Sarah. The young woman said, "Well, she's upstairs in bed. Who are you?"
I said, "I'm from the Obama campaign. I talked to her yesterday and she asked me to come by."
So the young woman went upstairs to check with Sarah, and sure enough, when she came back, I was told to come on up.
Sarah's bedroom consisted of a bed, a recliner, and a huge flat-screen TV. Sarah was sitting in the recliner.She smiled to see me, but needed a reminder again of who I was. I showed her a piece of Obama literature, and she said, "Oh yes, I want to vote, but is it too late?"
I said it wasn't too late, that voting was tomorrow. Did she want to go?
"Oh, I can't go. I can't get down the stairs anymore, you see. So I don't know if I can vote." Sarah had to stop several times to catch her breath to get out even a single sentence.
I told her I'd do some research to find out if there was a way to get an emergency ballot.
She said, "I've voted in every election since I was 18. I think it's time we had a black president. We ain't never had one before. And that man is smart, he seems to know what he's doing. I think he'll be good."
I said I agreed.
And she said, "And I want to vote. I can fill in all the bubbles myself, I know who I want to vote for." She stopped to catch her breath and smiled. "I might sound crazy, but I'm not."
I smiled and reminded her to watch the TV on Tuesday.
She said, "Oh, I watch it all the time, I never turn it off."
Then she looked at me. "I am just so happy that you came all the way up here to see me. You didn't have to do that."
I told her, "It's my privilege to help you vote." And I really meant it. I almost cried.
Then we said our good-byes and I went off to do the rest of my walk list.
In the afternoon, I had time to call my field office to ask about Sarah's situation. Sure enough, there is a provision for people who are too ill to vote on election day. The ill person can sign a waiver to designate someone to pick up an absentee ballot from the County Clerk, and the designee then delivers the ballot back to the clerk after the person has voted.
So tomorrow, I will drive the half hour to the county clerk's office to get Sarah's ballot, because I'm not about to let this woman down. And I will take Sarah her ballot, let her fill in all the bubbles like she said she would, and I will deliver it for her.
She has earned her vote, and I am privileged to help her cast it.
This is what GOTV means to me. It means you don't let a single vote, no matter how difficult, get away. It means you keep knocking, and calling, and researching, until you've secured every vote. It means you help people who need information or need a ride or need the answer to a question.
We are blessed with such an opportunity to reach out to our fellow citizens. Let's revel in it, and win this election!