“Riinngg….Riinngg.”
“Hello?”
“Hi, Sher?”
“Yes…?”
“Hi, it’s Scott. From the Obama campaign.”
“Scott? Oh, hi! Wow it’s been months!”
“Yeah, I know. How are you doing?”
“I’m ok. How are you?”
“Good, good. Listen, I’m actually in town for the day, but I’m just passing through, and I’m leaving tomorrow. I know it’s really last minute, but I’d really love to see you, and I was wondering if I could come say hi, even if only for a few minutes.”
“Uh, wow. Well, I don’t know. When did you have in mind?”
“Well I just got done visiting with Nancy, so I’m actually right around the corner and I was thinking about swinging by in ten minutes or so.”
"Oh, wow. You really did mean last minute notice!"
I had this conversation about ten times today, calling my former Obama volunteers to ask if I could come see them. Being the ever so organized planner that I am, these conversations often took place within a half hour of me showing up at their doorstep to say hello. That they agreed (and that they put up with me in general) is a testament to how wonderful everyone in this group really is.
It was good to be back. Colorado feels like home – a place where I can let my guard down, kick my feet up, open my suitcase and let my clothes spill all over the floor. These are my people – I know them, I love them, and they would never chase me with pitchforks.
It was supposed to be my home. I should be returning to Colorado to begin organizing for Stand for Children in Denver, not passing through on some half-cocked dash across (and then out of) the country. I was supposed to be returning to start a life here with the girl for whom my heart still yearns, not depressedly musing over how sad it is the way things ended.
I should be organizing. As I sat down with my volunteers today, and they told me about the work they’re doing to organize my former Obama teams into a community organization of activists, I got freaking fired up. As each person told me a new segment of what they’ve been up to – organizing a food bank, creating issue-based subcommittees to track legislature on education, the environment, etc., creating a database of people to send out issue-specific communication to interested parties – the gears started to turn in my head. It wasn’t long before I was making suggestions, offering ideas for organizational structure. I could feel myself start to salivate as I envisioned the potential power of this grassroots network. This is what I should be doing! Not running off, out of the country, when there is so much work to be done. This is the time to organize!
Oh. That’s right. I almost forgot. I’m not “a fit” as an organizer. But as I recount to my volunteers this explanation of why I was fired, they burst out laughing:
“Not a fit as an organizer? You?? What do they call what you were doing for the last year of your life? Did your supervisor ever actually meet you? Does she even know the first thing about organizing? Does she know what our Obama teams accomplished here in Arapahoe County? You, not an organizer?!?”
Yes, she met me, and yes, she knows quite a bit about organizing, I assure them. And I’m pretty sure my volunteers are biased because of a shared genetic disorder wherein they lack the normal human response of running the other way at the sound of my footsteps (I can’t fathom any other explanation of why they’re willing to hang around me). But even so, I can’t help but feel a little bit better at the supportive statements of my volunteers. I mean, they did work with me for 4 months. If anyone knows how I am as an organizer, it’s my volunteers. They suffered through my trainings, sat through my meetings, and participated in my conference calls. They saw me at my worst: when I hadn’t slept in days and didn’t feel human; when my spirit was broken and despair was setting in; when I had long lost hold of the reason we were working for Obama, and just continued stumbling through because I didn’t know what else to do. And if, despite all that, my volunteers still think I did a good job, still think I’m a good organizer – well, that must count for something, right?
At the end of the day, all emotions aside, here are the bare facts: my volunteers worked with me for 4 months, and they are many. My supervisor worked with me for 1.5 months, and she is one. Sarah, my dear, I think you are a little outnumbered.
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So glad that staying in CO helped to renew your spirit and your understanding that Sarah was limited...and you know what I really mean by that (shrink talk). Glad that your volunteers could fill up your emotional bucket and plug a few holes for you!).
ReplyDeleteWe miss you and are sorry we aren't going to be roomies - but no matter where Shelby and I are, you will always have a bed...or a couch (you might have to share with Spencer but...)