Why I knock on doors
Election campaigns are nerve wracking, exhilarating, hard work and exhausting. They can be educational, are frequently annoying, and usually costly. They are democracy in action. And knocking on doors is all of that in microcosm.
I have been involved in political campaigns of one level or another since my university days, when I ran for a position on the student union executive. My team didn't win, we were accused of illegally distributing literature to residence-students' mailboxes, and we were red baited. But throughout the campaign, I learned how to articulate the issues, speak in large lecture halls, and nab individual students passing in the hallway to talk to them one on one.
Despite our loss, it was all quite good fun, so I next became involved in a provincial campaign. I was just a junior volunteer and spent my time in the candidate's office tidying up, stuffing envelopes (pre-email days) and taking the odd in-coming phone call. Then came Election Day, then came the evening and the polls closed, and then the results started coming in. It began looking good for my candidate, Pam Barrett of the NDP, and then it looked great: She had taken down an incumbent Conservative cabinet minister! Oh my god -- the noise we made in that office! Pam couldn't be heard over the cheering and the joy. That experience hooked me for good.
It's always worthwhile being involved, but being on the winning team is something else. Such a great feeling. But before you can have that feeling, you have to knock on doors, talk to people, listen to people. I do it because it's the very heart of the democratic process. When you have an actual conversation, it's great. When the door is closed in your face, it's not so much fun. But it's always worthwhile. If only to better understand how others live and see the world.
They say that every vote counts, and any candidate who has lost -- or won -- by a mere handful of votes will tell you just how true that is. And that's why I knock on doors. Because, maybe, that one person with whom I chatted about the issues or whose question about the candidate I was able to answer -- maybe that person will cast the vote that will put my candidate in the winning position. It takes a whole teeming village to get someone elected, and I want to be part of that village action.
Tuesday, September 10th is election day in Manitoba. I'll be pulling the vote for my candidate later in the day, and I hope to be on the winning team once the polls close and the votes are counted.
Winston Churchill said, "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.” True. And on its best days, what makes democracy much, much more than the worst form of government is all the ordinary people who make it happen. One door at a time.
I have been involved in political campaigns of one level or another since my university days, when I ran for a position on the student union executive. My team didn't win, we were accused of illegally distributing literature to residence-students' mailboxes, and we were red baited. But throughout the campaign, I learned how to articulate the issues, speak in large lecture halls, and nab individual students passing in the hallway to talk to them one on one.
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| Alberta: Early 1980s university days |
Despite our loss, it was all quite good fun, so I next became involved in a provincial campaign. I was just a junior volunteer and spent my time in the candidate's office tidying up, stuffing envelopes (pre-email days) and taking the odd in-coming phone call. Then came Election Day, then came the evening and the polls closed, and then the results started coming in. It began looking good for my candidate, Pam Barrett of the NDP, and then it looked great: She had taken down an incumbent Conservative cabinet minister! Oh my god -- the noise we made in that office! Pam couldn't be heard over the cheering and the joy. That experience hooked me for good.
It's always worthwhile being involved, but being on the winning team is something else. Such a great feeling. But before you can have that feeling, you have to knock on doors, talk to people, listen to people. I do it because it's the very heart of the democratic process. When you have an actual conversation, it's great. When the door is closed in your face, it's not so much fun. But it's always worthwhile. If only to better understand how others live and see the world.
They say that every vote counts, and any candidate who has lost -- or won -- by a mere handful of votes will tell you just how true that is. And that's why I knock on doors. Because, maybe, that one person with whom I chatted about the issues or whose question about the candidate I was able to answer -- maybe that person will cast the vote that will put my candidate in the winning position. It takes a whole teeming village to get someone elected, and I want to be part of that village action.
Tuesday, September 10th is election day in Manitoba. I'll be pulling the vote for my candidate later in the day, and I hope to be on the winning team once the polls close and the votes are counted.
Winston Churchill said, "Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all the others.” True. And on its best days, what makes democracy much, much more than the worst form of government is all the ordinary people who make it happen. One door at a time.
Good for you Amanda. The right to vote is precious, and so many take it for granted. I suspect that knocking on doors does as much to get people to the polls, no matter how they vote, as anything. I'm appalled at the apathy in my country, particularly in local elections, which I think are the most important, the ones where one vote really does count. Keep on keeping Canada a great place to live. Wish I lived there!
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