I Saved Jager for Hillary

My weekend in Pennsylvania

The light rail screeches unpleasantly as we turn the corner away from the Baltimore Washington International Airport. The route takes me through downtown, passed smoke stacks and Camden Yards, before reaching my stop in Hunt Valley. I am meeting Frank Pratka, a volunteer whom I have only spoken with on the phone. He offered to drive me to the regional campaign office in York, Pennsylvania, and because I didn’t want to pay for an hour-long cab ride, I figured I’d chance it. The train ride is long and complete with two electrical shorts that cause us to halt unexpectedly, but it gives me a chance to reflect on how and why I’m sitting here right now. Exactly one month has passed since the March 4 Texas Primary, and while I’ve been completely focused on projects, papers and deadlines, I knew that I somehow had to find my way back on the trail. As I look out through the window at the cloudy gray sky hovering above inner city properties, factories, and the occasional display of dilapidated foliage, I know that I am headed for the battleground.
Next stop, Hunt Valley. I call Frank to let him know I’ve arrived. He is there waiting in his orange convertible Volkswagon Beetle, complete with colorful flags and a “celebrate diversity” sticker stuck proudly to his dashboard. I find out later that he took the day off work to drive me to York and volunteer. I like Frank.
Before I know it, we arrive in York City, PA. I am greeted by my friend and Regional Field Director for South Central Pennsylvania, Graeme Joeck, who I first met at a Hillary Clinton rally in Dallas, Tx. I spend the day helping to prepare turf packets for the statewide weekend of canvassing ahead, where along with other volunteers, I will go door to door to talk to voters and identify Clinton supporters. In a world where people barely speak with their neighbors, approaching complete strangers is a little bit uncomfortable at first, but I get used to it. I am accompanied by Nitoy Lopez, a retired electrical engineer and out of state volunteer who believes so much in Clinton that he is getting involved in a campaign for the first time. We split up the neighborhood and head off in separate directions.
Walking around alone down unfamiliar streets can present some unusual challenges, such as realizing that you have to use the restroom. Do I knock on someone’s door and ask to come inside, or do I risk being arrested for indecent exposure with pictures of me in my “I heart Hilary” tee blanketing the Internet? As Democrats tend to do, I find the appropriate solution to the problem.
For some reason, people in many of the houses I visit look outside at someone they don’t know carrying a backpack and a large packet of paper and don’t answer their doors. I wonder why? It’s a little frustrating, but I keep going, hoping for contacts. At one house, a middle-aged man comes to the door in an uncomfortably stained wife beater and boxer shorts. I ask if Patricia is there, the name of the voter on my list, and he informs me that she is sleeping. A yappy little dog at his feet is barking so obnoxiously that I don’t bother trying to speak over the noise, so I offer him a piece of literature on Hillary instead. He opens the screen door to grab it, and the dog takes off. He steps out on the porch beside me and yells in his Texas like accent, “JAGER!!!” The commotion wakes up Patricia, who joins us in her nightgown on the steps, as all three of us trying coaxing the dog out of the street and back inside. Nothing is working. Jager is now turning the corner at the end of the street and the half-naked man is chasing after him, leaving me with the perfect opportunity to ask the angry woman if she is supporting Hillary for President. She is undecided. I apologize profusely for the missing animal situation, and leave her with a bumper sticker and a button to compensate for the loss. I cross the street as the angry man comes back around the corner empty-handed, muttering to himself. The only words I can hear are that one that begins with “f” and Jager. I continue down the street, feeling awful and thinking about how two undecided voters will head the polls on April 22 and remember the Hillary Clinton volunteer who came to their house and lost their beloved pet. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I see the yappy little mutt running in my direction. I call its name and he comes to me. I pick him up and triumphantly return to their doorstep. The arguing I hear inside ceases, as they come to the door in shock and express their appreciation. I hand him over with a smile and exit with a simple but more effective than ever, “Vote for Hillary!”
The rest of the weekend consists more of the same; visits to the campaign office in Gettysburg, canvassing in New Oxford, tallying and recording our progress in the evenings. Over two days, 2,000 doors are knocked in the South Central Region and over 37,000 statewide. I meet interesting and passionate people, listen in on campaign conference calls, leave a bar to avoid drinking in front of the press, and listen to amazing stories from the crazy world of campaigning. A part of me wants to stay.
During the long drive to Reagan airport in D.C, Graeme and I play this game of questions. Among other things, he asks me where I’d be right now if I could choose anywhere in the world. As someone who longs to travel the globe and see new places, I think long and hard. Then, I think about this country, this election, and how much I believe in Hillary Clinton. The answer is simple.
At the hotel, I look out the tenth story window at the city before me. To my left I can see the Capitol Building and the Washington Monument, and straight ahead I see the Air Force Memorial. I think of my family. I think of my sister Christy and her husband Chris, who is currently stationed in Korea. It may seem silly to some that I would fly across the country to knock on doors and chase around a yappy little dog in a strange neighborhood, but my window view reminds me why I’m here.

Check out photos from my trip!

Pennsylvania here I come!

I will be leaving on Friday to work for Hillary in PA. Here is what I am taking as motivation:

A Note from Dr. Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

This is not the first time you have seen Hillary Clinton seemingly at her wits end, but she has always risen, always risen, much to the dismay of her adversaries and the delight of her friends.

Hillary Clinton will not give up on you and all she asks of you is that you do not give up on her.

There is a world of difference between being a woman and being an old female. If you’re born a girl, grow up, and live long enough, you can become an old female. But, to become a woman is a serious matter. A woman takes responsibility for the time she takes up and the space she occupies.

Hillary Clinton is a woman. She has been there and done that and has still risen. She is in this race for the long haul. She intends to make a difference in our country.

She is the prayer of every woman and man who long for fair play, healthy families, good schools, and a balanced economy.

She declares she wants to see more smiles in the families, more courtesies between men and women, more honesty in the marketplace. Hillary Clinton intends to help our country to what it can become.

She means to rise.

She means to help our country rise. Don’t give up on her, ever.

In fact, if you help her to rise, you will rise with her and help her make this country a wonderful, wonderful place where every man and every woman can live freely without sanctimonious piety, without crippling fear.

Rise Hillary.

Rise.

It ain't over 'til it's over

Bill Richardson's endorsement and the role of superdelegates

There is no doubt that Bill Richardson’s endorsement is a much needed break for Barack Obama, who has recently been under intense fire for his association with Jeremiah Wright. The real question, however, is whether the assumption of many analysts that Richardson’s decision could influence other superdelegates will turn into a reality. I would argue that the answer is no.
Richardson himself said in February that “superdelegates should vote according to who they represent. If somebody's appointed as a superdelegate because they're Hispanic or a governor, they should pay attention to what their voters and their constituencies are saying.” This sentiment has been shared by the Obama camp as they have repeatedly called on superdelegates not to overturn the will of the voters. Richardson, however, is the governor of New Mexico, a state where Clinton won narrowly and was favored 2-1 by Hispanic voters. His reasoning, that despite his admiration for the Clintons, he doesn’t think it should be “Bush, Clinton, Bush, Clinton,” may not be enough for his constiuencies to understand his change of heart. Nevertheless, other notable superdelegates have also gone against the will of their states including John Kerry, who also endorsed Obama despite Clinton’s 13 point win in Massachusettes.
So what’s the big deal, you ask? Well, I don’t think there is one, and I’m not complaining. Richardson has every right to support the candidate of his choice. Superdelegates are supposed to exercise their best judgment in regard to the nation and the democratic party, and that is why this race is far from over. Though she is likely to end up behind in pledged delegates, there is a chance that Clinton could end up leading in the popular vote when the last of the 10 remaining contests is over. She will use that statistic, along with her advantage in the larger swing states to make her case to the superdelegates. If they buy it, she wins. If they don’t, she doesn’t. While the rules have caused a lot of uproar, they are what they are, and either way it’s a fair game.
To say that Richardson’s endorsement hasn’t already helped Obama would be false. As a long time friend of the Clintons and a former UN Ambassador under President Clinton, his endorsement is definitely a valuable prize for Obama. However, his repeated pressuring of Clinton to drop out of the race shows how political his motivations truly are, especially given the will of his own state.
It also brings attention to the fact that supporters of both sides are trying to spin this close race in favor of their personal favorite. While I support Hillary Clinton, I’m not going to pretend that she is winning. It’s definitely an uphill battle, but it’s not an impossible one. She was counted out before New Hampshire. She was counted out before Texas and Ohio, and now she’s being counted out again. All I’m saying and all that I think is necessary to agree upon, is that the race ain’t over ‘til it’s over.
When that day comes, I will support the nominee, and I have faith that other Democrats will do the same. I reject the belief that the Democratic Party will not be unified when our candidate is finally chosen, regardless of how difficult that may seem now. While the back and forth is exhausting and attacks have become increasing negative, there is too much at stake to lose in November. I’m confident that both Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama will do what is necessary to heal the wounds and win back the White House: they will join together on the same ticket. If the party is as divided as the race is close, a joint ticket may be the only way to appease both sides. While it may seem like a dream right now, Clinton and Obama haven’t made it this far in the battle to risk losing the war.

What I believe... (Part 1)

I believe in forgiveness.
I wake up and walk into the living room to find my black lab, Chance, sleeping on the couch. He is not supposed to be on the couch. He knows he’s not supposed to be on the couch. He rolls over, yawns, and looks at me with those big brown eyes so unapologetically that I could strangle him, but I believe in forgiveness. I grab his leash and take him outside. In my slightly hungover morning daze, I manage to step in great big pile of dog shit. The apartment complex provides outdoor stands with bags to dispose of animal waste, but I guess some people are too busy to bother. I could shoot them, but I believe in forgiveness. I leave my feces-caked shoes on the porch and come inside to make breakfast. There are bread crumbs surrounding the toaster and two small jelly stained circles on the countertop of the kitchen that I spent two hours deep cleaning yesterday. I follow the trail to my roommate’s room and stand outside the door. Should I knock and then bitch or just yell from outside? I weigh my options, but I walk away. I believe in forgiveness. I get ready for the day, get into my car, and head for school. Like always, I take the Keller Springs Dallas North Tollway entrance. The person directly in front of me seems to have parked their Hummer, complete with one of those awesome W stickers, at the tollbooth. Apparently, despite the Bush taxcuts for the wealthiest Americans, this shithead is having trouble finding quarters. I could start honking so obnoxiously that I give the guy an anxiety attack or flip him off for kicks…but I don’t. I believe in forgiveness. I turn on the radio to KRLD News Radio 1080. It’s not my station of choice, but I had been listening for a weather and traffic update the night before. The Ernie and Jay Mid-day program is on, and before I can change the channel, I hear them comparing Hillary Clinton’s laugh to the cackle of the Wicked Witch of the West. For the life of me, I cannot fathom how the sound of someone’s laughter is more worthy of discussion than the capability of the presidential candidates to inflict positive changes upon our country. I pick up my cell phone and dial in immediately. To my personal gratification, I get through right away. I am put on hold during a commercial break and use the time to plan my vicious attack, but when they welcome me to the show, I speak my mind in a mild tone and thank them for their time. I believe in forgiveness.
At some point during the day, someone will look at me funny or say something derogatory about my sexuality, my big hair, or my annoying laugh. At some point in the days to come, somebody I care about will hurt me, someone I trust will betray me, and someone I love will make me cry. And yet I know, that because we are all equally human and equally flawed, I will at some point do these same things to others.
I will forget to pick up Chance’s crap, I will spill jelly on the counter, and I will be the person holding up traffic at the tollbooth. I will write an article that I think is amazing but makes somebody throw up in their mouth. I will hurt someone I care about, betray someone’s trust, and make somebody cry. I’ll just cross my fingers and hope that all the people I piss off in this lifetime, share this one belief. I believe in forgiveness.

Spring Break in a Blue State continued!

Spring Break in a Blue State

Spring Break in a Blue State

Disclaimer: Texans, you have no reason to send me angry emails after reading this article. I may have been born a yankee, but I’ve spent about 16 of my 23 years on Texas soil and am truly proud of my red state roots. Okay, well maybe “proud” isn’t the best word to describe the full extent of my feelings, but I swear I ain’t tryin’ to hate, ya’ll!

It’s amazing how fast a four-hour flight can seem when you’ve knocked down a few stiff drinks. I owe a big thank you, by the way, to our lovely waitress at Cantino Laredo in DFW’s Terminal D, who so kindly recommended the extra shots of Patron. Before I knew it, we were arriving in San Francisco, one of the most unapologetically liberal cities in the United States.
While there are many obvious differences between Dallas and San Francisco, such as the geography and variances in ethnic composition, I made a point during my vacation to be cognizant of the little things that differentiate these two famous American cities. Frankly, the big picture is pretty clear. When the presidential election results pour in next November, it shouldn’t take too long for Texas to turn red and for California, despite the disapproval of Governor Schwarzenegger, to turn blue on the map. But why? Evidence providing reasons for this inevitable occurrence were all around me, even before leaving the airport. The following report contains five excerpts from the journal that I carried on my trip.
Clue #1- San Francisco International Airport bathroom. I reach for a towel to dry my hands. A sign in an extremely large font instructs me to take “only what I need,” in order to “conserve resources.” I smile at the green gesture and in an attempt to avoid being outdone, proudly wipe my wet hands on my jeans and exit the restroom. What harm is there in a friendly reminder to avoid wasteful consumption? The airport saves money on supplies, and the earth saves trees. Beautiful.
Clue #2- Asia SF, Restaurant and Gender Illusionist Show- The bill arrives at our table and it’s not as bad as we thought. As expected, there is a blank space available to tip the beautiful “ladies” of Asia SF, but there is another charge that I’ve never seen before. A 4% fee is automatically added to the tab, helping to cover the cost of a San Francisco city ordinance mandating that businesses provide health care coverage for all of their employees. On a $120 bill, the charge comes to $4.80. What a small price to pay for such an important step towards providing a basic human necessity to all Americans!
Clue #3- Driving through Sonoma- There is a banner hung from a property that reads, “Honk for George W. Bush in Prison!” Okay, so maybe there’s no real, universal justification for this, but I laugh…and honk.
Clue #4- Highway 101-For the first time in my life, I see more Smart cars and Hybrids on the road than pickup trucks and Hummers. The passenger count isn’t much different, but for some reason, California drivers do not feel the need to operate army tanks. What a concept!
Clue #5- Margaret Cho at The Warfield Theatre- Standing outside in line, I watch a drug deal go down in plain sight. I’m not sure if the participants feel like the two lesbians running by in wedding dresses are enough to distract nearby police officers or if they are just too high to care. Either way, I am utterly fascinated.
As you can infer from the previous paragraph, there are going to be negatives to living in any city or state, red or blue. What’s most important, from my perspective, is that you find the place in this world that you love the most, whether you fit in or not. For me, visiting San Francisco was a reminder there at there are like-minded people out there, and it was quite refreshing. It very well could have been a side of effect of the perpetual smell of 420 wafting through the city streets, but life just seemed a little easier and a lot more carefree in San Francisco than in Dallas. And while being an unapologetically liberal student at the future home of the Bush Library has its interesting moments, getting lost in the crowd was a wonderful change of pace.

WE...I MEAN, SHE DID IT!!!

Texas, Ohio, and Rhode Island for HRC, bitches!!!



Even though my part was small, I can't even express in words how gratifying it feels to have been part of Hillary Clinton's March 4 victory in Texas. I know this post is a little late, but since Tuesday I've been trying to save my ass from failing six classes that I've neglected for the past few weeks. It's been such a whirlwind that I haven't even really grasped until now just how quickly you can transition from being a die-hard supporter to being completely wrapped up in working on the ground as a volunteer.
After working to sign up volunteers and manage crowds at an early vote rally with Bill Clinton at Grauwyler Park and Hillary Clinton's Fair Park Rally, sending countless emails, making signs and hours of phone calls as a precinct captain, helping a good friend of Chelsea Clinton organize an event with Rob Reiner at SMU, serving as temporary chair and permanent secretary of my precinct convention, and celebrating with Dallas staffers and volunteers at Metro Grill as the returns came in on Saturday night, I can honestly say that exhaustion has never felt so rewarding. Every step of the experience was an honor because I have never believed so strongly in any candidate.
I met some great people, had some great times, and wish I could quit school and fly to Pennsylvania to do it all over again. Here are a few pics of my adventures: