This is why:
"I'm here because Minnesota is better than this."
"I'm here because this is against my religion."
"I'm here because what if one of my children is gay?
What about their rights?"
What about their rights?"
"I'm here because the legislature is playing politics with peoples' relationships."
"I'm here because this amendment is a waste of money
and a waste of time."
and a waste of time."
"I'm here because I'm really, really gay and some day
I'm really, really gonna want to get married."
"I'm here because I care about this, and I ran out of excuses not to volunteer."
"I'm here because my partner and I have been together for [insert any number here] years and we would like our relationship to be honored just like the relationships of straight Minnesotans.
This is why.
Although recruiting volunteers, having meaningful conversations with undecided voters, and raising money are all important parts of what we do, I think the part where we share our motivations for participating is truly the most meaningful part of my weekly experience. It's the part where my mind finally unplugs from the rest of my life...where my heart feels less heavy about depressing poll numbers...where my spirit soars from spending time with such dedicated and compassionate Minnesotans.
The point is, every single week, my dedication to this critical cause is reinvigorated and reinforced by the dedication of everyone else. I think we keep each other going. I think we give each other hope.
And while the rationale and the motivation of all the other volunteers is always moving, some weeks the "This is why..." is a little more poignant than others.
Tonight was one of those nights. And this is why...
The front desk phone rang around 8:30...a woman was coming in to buy yard signs and wanted directions. "I know you're on University Avenue," she said, "but where are you located exactly?"
"Which direction are you coming from?" I asked.
"I'm at Arby's right now," she replied.
"Okay, well we're just across the street...so be sure to bring me some Curly Fries, and I'll be sure to sell you some lawn signs," I joked.
A few minutes later, she walked through the door. We talked about the campaign. She told me about her volunteer experience a few days back. I fumbled around, trying to figure out how to take money for merchandise sales, as I am but a mere volunteer. She asked if she could buy 10 (TEN!) signs...she was picking them up for pretty much the whole block.
"AWESOME! What a great block you live on!" I exclaimed.
"It's actually a really touching story," she said.
She went on to tell me the story of 8-year-old T. who lives on her block with his two moms. She told me how T. is just old enough to understand what all the "Vote Yes" and "Vote No" signs are about. She told me how hurt T. felt when he realized that there were people out there who didn't like his family...how it affected his sense of self and his confidence. She told me about T's moms talking about how challenging it is to talk to an 8-year-old about a topic like this. She told me how devastated T. was when the very first lawn sign that showed up on his block was a "Vote Yes" sign...just a few doors down from his house. That right there, in his very own neighborhood, was someone who didn't approve of his family.
And then she told me that the rest of the neighbors talked about the effect this one "Vote Yes" yard sign was having on T. ...and how they decided they would all put up "Vote No" signs to show T. how much love and support he and his family had in the neighborhood.
By the time she finished her story, I was absolutely crying. Her eyes weren't particularly dry either. "That was an amazing story," I said. "Thank you for sharing it with me." I asked her if she thought T. and his moms would want to come in and volunteer...so he could see all the people fighting for him and his family. She promised she'd extend the invitation.
This is why.
As she left, I told her how nice it was to meet her...how I appreciated that she'd shared T's story...that I hoped we'd see her again...and that I was sort of mad that she didn't bring any Curly Fries. We both laughed.
I went back to supporting volunteers and checking in on how the phone banking was going. I shared the story she'd shared with me with 2 of the volunteers that I know best. We all got misty-eyed about it.
Suddenly, one of the staff members yelled from the front desk, "Emily! Curly Fries!" The woman had come back...with 2 large orders of fries. I was incredulous (and a little embarrassed). We laughed and hugged. She went on her way. The other trainer and I wrapped up the phone bank and passed around some deep-fried goodness. As you might imagine, after a long night of phone banking, there was great enthusiasm for Curly Fries.
After we did the debrief--where we ask the volunteers about how the evening went--and after we shared the totals for the evening (something like 565 dials, 110 conversations, and 56 volunteers recruited), I said, "You know those Curly Fries? Here's what that was all about..." I shared the story of T. and his neighborhood.
There wasn't a dry eye in the place.
This is why.
Although recruiting volunteers, having meaningful conversations with undecided voters, and raising money are all important parts of what we do, I think the part where we share our motivations for participating is truly the most meaningful part of my weekly experience. It's the part where my mind finally unplugs from the rest of my life...where my heart feels less heavy about depressing poll numbers...where my spirit soars from spending time with such dedicated and compassionate Minnesotans.
The point is, every single week, my dedication to this critical cause is reinvigorated and reinforced by the dedication of everyone else. I think we keep each other going. I think we give each other hope.
And while the rationale and the motivation of all the other volunteers is always moving, some weeks the "This is why..." is a little more poignant than others.
Tonight was one of those nights. And this is why...
The front desk phone rang around 8:30...a woman was coming in to buy yard signs and wanted directions. "I know you're on University Avenue," she said, "but where are you located exactly?""Which direction are you coming from?" I asked.
"I'm at Arby's right now," she replied.
"Okay, well we're just across the street...so be sure to bring me some Curly Fries, and I'll be sure to sell you some lawn signs," I joked.
A few minutes later, she walked through the door. We talked about the campaign. She told me about her volunteer experience a few days back. I fumbled around, trying to figure out how to take money for merchandise sales, as I am but a mere volunteer. She asked if she could buy 10 (TEN!) signs...she was picking them up for pretty much the whole block.
"AWESOME! What a great block you live on!" I exclaimed.
"It's actually a really touching story," she said.
She went on to tell me the story of 8-year-old T. who lives on her block with his two moms. She told me how T. is just old enough to understand what all the "Vote Yes" and "Vote No" signs are about. She told me how hurt T. felt when he realized that there were people out there who didn't like his family...how it affected his sense of self and his confidence. She told me about T's moms talking about how challenging it is to talk to an 8-year-old about a topic like this. She told me how devastated T. was when the very first lawn sign that showed up on his block was a "Vote Yes" sign...just a few doors down from his house. That right there, in his very own neighborhood, was someone who didn't approve of his family.
And then she told me that the rest of the neighbors talked about the effect this one "Vote Yes" yard sign was having on T. ...and how they decided they would all put up "Vote No" signs to show T. how much love and support he and his family had in the neighborhood.
By the time she finished her story, I was absolutely crying. Her eyes weren't particularly dry either. "That was an amazing story," I said. "Thank you for sharing it with me." I asked her if she thought T. and his moms would want to come in and volunteer...so he could see all the people fighting for him and his family. She promised she'd extend the invitation.
This is why.
As she left, I told her how nice it was to meet her...how I appreciated that she'd shared T's story...that I hoped we'd see her again...and that I was sort of mad that she didn't bring any Curly Fries. We both laughed.
I went back to supporting volunteers and checking in on how the phone banking was going. I shared the story she'd shared with me with 2 of the volunteers that I know best. We all got misty-eyed about it.
Suddenly, one of the staff members yelled from the front desk, "Emily! Curly Fries!" The woman had come back...with 2 large orders of fries. I was incredulous (and a little embarrassed). We laughed and hugged. She went on her way. The other trainer and I wrapped up the phone bank and passed around some deep-fried goodness. As you might imagine, after a long night of phone banking, there was great enthusiasm for Curly Fries.
After we did the debrief--where we ask the volunteers about how the evening went--and after we shared the totals for the evening (something like 565 dials, 110 conversations, and 56 volunteers recruited), I said, "You know those Curly Fries? Here's what that was all about..." I shared the story of T. and his neighborhood.
There wasn't a dry eye in the place.
This is why.
5 comments:
Emily,
I can only imagine how T. felt this morning when he awoke to 10 VOTE NO signs surrounding the VOTE YES sign. I can almost picture a little smile cracking as he realizes his neighborhood does support him. I think at that moment he will understand the term solidarity in a way that most adults do not grasp. Thanks for sharing!
-Kelly
Hi. T's mama here. Thanks for sharing his story. He also inspired another friend who phonebanked for you this week.
T and his little bro E are - as I type! - going around the block with their mommy distributing 'vote no' signs. It is heartwarming to me that many of the younger generation, left to their own devices, cannot even imagine why on earth anyone would want to legislate against love.
And T loves curly fries, too. :)
I love this.
Thanks for finding your way to the blog, Jen (T's mama!). There are lots of lessons we can learn, seeing the world through the eyes of children. Love is love is one of those things. :) I promise to keep working hard on behalf of your family...and all families. Thank you for the inspiration. :)
You are awesome. Flat out, awesome.
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