Decades ago, I saw a comedian from England explain Heisenberg's uncertainty principle to a nightclub audience in Berkeley. Since I'm not a quantum physicist, I can't vouch for his accuracy, but I still remember the gist of what he said.
Imagine visitors from Mars, he said, coming here to learn more about humans and ripping off the roof of this place to check us out. We're all shouting and running in fear and bumping into each other trying to get out and the Martians go back and tell their people that humans are a bunch of screaming lunatics who don't know how to wait in line patiently for the exit.
I'm here in Albuqueque, New Mexico, helping elect Barack Obama to the presidency, Tom Udall to the Senate, and Martin Heinrich to Congress. I'm knocking on doors, making phone calls, scanning bar codes into a computer, and other things like that to help with the final weekend push before Election Day. And I'm also committing myself to writing about my experiences every day. Which makes the somewhat tedious work more interesting, and, Heisenberg might say, different than if I weren't paying attention. But then the Buddhists would say that everything is better when you're paying attention, even washing dishes. Especially washing dishes.
[more after the jump]
I work for the Sierra Club's Communications Department, but I'm here on my own time. There are Sierra Club staff and volunteers all over the country working in swing states, and/or, if they live in one of those states, like New Mexico, hosting folks from out of town.
I arrive Friday midday and walk from about 3 pm until dark in a neighborhood on the edge of the city, on the west side, abutting the Petroglyphs National Monument. Our assignment is to do a "lit drop," that is, to put a doorhanger promoting early voting and support of Obama, Udall, and Heinrich, on selected doors. The neighborhood is newish, maybe a decade or so old, and many of the houses are similar -- yellow or beige stucco or adobe with Mexican tile roofs. As a Californian, I find it interesting that almost all the houses have their front yards xeriscaped -- with rocks and stones in various patterns or contrasting colors. There are trees here and there, but almost no vegetation in the front yards.
It's Halloween, of course, which, at least in even numbered years, brings an interesting hodgepodge of witches and pumpkins and political yard signs. Though we aren't knocking on doors, I still end talking to a dozen or more folks. And as the sun drops toward the horizon -- and what a brilliant pink sunset it is -- the trick-or-treaters start appearing, and some people are sitting close to their front doors anticipating visitors.
One kid on a skateboard asks me if I want some candy. I say I'm not trick or treating, just doing this election thing. You can still have some candy, he says. Are you going out trick or treating, I ask, or are you too old for that. Oh, I'm going, he says.
Plenty of people tell me they've voted already. I know I'm not seeing any random sample, but if the people I talk to are representative, it would seem that Obama will win in a landslide and way more than half of voters will cast their votes before Election Day. (Of course, that snapshot might turn out to be true.)
We are dropping literature only on specific doorways of identified supporters who haven't early voted. That translates into an average of four or five houses per block, though block is not exactly the right word. The streets curve. There are cul-de-sacs all over. And my walk sheets are in alphabetical order by street name. I have a good system at first, finishing each street, and then going on to the next one that's nearby, but soon enough I am tracking back along areas I've covered already. By the time it's too dark to see my sheets, my feet are tired and I've hit every door except a few I couldn't find.
On Saturday, I'm knocking on doors and talking to people. I do two shifts, both in subdivisions on the west side, just north of an area called South Valley. The morning neighborhood is pretty run down -- one of my colleagues said the city bought a bunch of really cheap land a couple of decades ago and the houses are all pretty much the same tract homes. It's almost 100 percent Hispanic, though everyone I talk to speaks English. We are encouraging people to vote early -- today is the last day -- and to vote fo Obama, Udall, and Heinrich. The afternoon shift is just a few blocks north of the morning one, but much more middle-class.
Oh, and did I mention how hot and sunny it is on this first day or November? It's a relief as dusk approaches and it starts cooling down.
We're working out of the Heinrich office, and though we're supporting all three candidates, Heinrich is the least well-known of the three, and is engaged in the tightest race. One of my best conversations of the day is with a woman who is outside her front door clipping a bush. I ask her if she has voted. She hasn't. She says she is definitely supporting Obama, but is wavering between Heinrich and his Republican opponent, Darren White. I hold out our doorhanger, which shows Obama, Udall, and Heinrich, and I say that Obama will need help in the Congress to make progress on his agenda, and that's why we need to elect Martin Heinrich.
So these people will help Obama?
Yes, I say.
OK, well, I'll vote for them then, if they're going to help him.
As we talk to people, we indicate on our tally sheets their level of support for Obama and Heinrich -- most are "1"s, though support for Obama is higher than support for Heinrich; whether they've moved, are not home, refuse to engage, or if the place is inaccessible. And if they've early voted or not -- more than half of the people I talk to have.
Two people tell me that it's private. They don't want to tell me. That's fine, I said. I encourage you to vote for these three candidates.
If the election were decided on the basis of signs, well, Obama, Udall, and Heinrich would be clear winners. In all three of the areas I walk on Friday and Saturday, Obama signs outnumber McCain signs by at least 5 to 1.
Saturday night, I sit for an hour or so in front of a computer and, using a scanner shaped like a pen, scan in the bar codes on the tally sheets, not just mine but some of the other canvassers. There are almost 100 volunteers working out of the Heinrich office on Saturday. Each voter has a bar code and after scanning that, I scan their level of support for Obama and Heinrich, and the other data on the sheets. The idea is that this data, plus information from the county about who has already voted, will help the staffers create new walk sheets for Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday. We'll keep going back to those doors where no one is home, but if they've voted, or refused, or moved, well, they're off the list. So our goal isn't just to get people to the polls, but to get good data, so the data files can be updated and improved every night. The better data we have on Saturday, the smoother Election Day will go.
I worked for two weeks in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in 2004 -- John Kerry won the state by less than 1 percent, though of course, he lost the election. The level of enthusiasm for Obama is far higher than I experienced for Kerry four years ago. People go out of their way to thank me or shout out their support for Obama. One man in his driveway says it's going to be a great Tuesday.
I know I have a small window on the nation that's not representative, but it feels good. It feels really good. We can't leave anything to chance, we have to keep knocking on doors until the polls close on Tuesday. It's fine to be optimistic as long as we don't let up.
More tomorrow.