Recovery

The day after...

I arrive at 9, hours after the office would normally begin bustling with the day's new strategy. Today, however, the doors are still locked. My colleagues are finally receiving the sleep they so often complain about missing.

To me, this is a welcomed obstacle, as I was in the mood for a coffee. At Starbucks, I run into the Hillary supporter that nearly came to blows with one of ours last night. I offer an olive branch, and he takes it:

"So I hear you picked up those two delegates in district 336."
"Yeah, I was sent there to suffer, but at least I redeemed something."

We talk about the different candidates. The natural tendency is to size each other up, but I already know that he's a cut-throat Hillarist and he knows I'm an idealistic Obamamaniac. So we talk about the media and campaign governance. We both concede that the race is divided along social lines, with blacks and intellectuals almost unanimously supporting Obama and latinos and rednecks going for Clinton. We both concede that the campaigns are somewhat lacking in leadership (I secretly take pride in knowing that his campaign is notorious for in-fighting), and we both claim that the media's criticism of our candidate has made issues from nothing. We have a pleasant conversation, but there is always the nagging knowledge that this guy wouldn't hesitate to go for my jugular if the heat turned on again.

Back at HQ, things are starting to bustle again. Bins of paper, both shredded and full sheets, are filling quickly. Putting together packages of extra food for homeless shelters, I am astonished by the amount of junk food lying around the office. Between Obama and Clinton, so far we have raised close to $350 mil, and I'm willing to bet most of it has gone to oil companies, telephone companies, airlines, rainforest destruction, and America's snack food industry.

There is one piece of drama the day after the storm. Kelli, one of the out of state volunteers, was supposed to drive back to California with another volunteer. However, on the ride from Cali, there had been some tense moments. So Kelli woke up the morning after the election with a missing travel companion. Her belongings that had been in the car were piled neatly next to her bed without a note. The problem was solved when one of the local volunteers gave up a free travel voucher for Kelli to get home. I can't help but postulate based on this experience that when people come together the ability to hurt each other is greatly outweighed by the inclination to help.

Altogether, the end of a campaign, even an unsuccessful one, is uplifting. We are constantly reminded of the small successes we made along the way. Even the ability to rent and equip an office amazes me. Somehow, we found a donor for the furnature, a Bangladeshi man who runs a second hand furnature store. We managed to equip our office with all the necessaries, including tidbits such as a mop, a refrigerator, and reading lamps. People stop by all day to say goodbye, to thank us for our involvement, and to offer help down the road.

I am reminded why I got into this--because there was something big going on. America's strengths are being renewed, as we remind ourselves who we want to be as a society and as a country seen from afar. This election, and this campaign in particular, is bringing politics back to the community, engaging demographics that haven't been politically active for decades, and forming coalitions based on positive ideals, so that we can trust those around us to participate with us. These ideals are what make me feel safe as I walk from door to door in a neighborhood where I stand out like a sore thumb.