The Word is LOVE

     You ever have one of those days where you find yourself just sitting and "processing" for quite a while afterwards?
     Well that's me right now. I spent five hours today out in public--trying enough on my frayed mental and social nerves--three-and-a-half of which found me seated behind an Obama for America table offering voter registration services. (See, I'm so taxed I'm using passive voice.)
     This could be seen as a good deed or a death wish, depending upon where you live. I happen to live in death wish territory and those of you in similar circumstances know exactly what I mean and probably have felt at one time or another how I feel. For the most part, it was a very positive experience. I only had a "confrontation conversation" with one Tea Party Lady who chose to engage me twice: as she walked down the street and then on the return trip. I remained calm, made my points (though not all of them) whenever I could get a word in edgewise, and listened to her birther talk and Communism claims with feigned interest after which I defended our President as best I could muster while flustered. The only time I "got onto her" was when she attempted to bring my 13-year-old son into her conversation which I quickly shut down with the Mama Bear warning: "Leave my son out of this." Sure, he was there to support his Mom and his President, but I would not have her talk directly to him with her negativity. He did pipe up from behind me, "Oh, I have my own ideas. No one tells me how to think." So that was a proud moment.
     And before she left me the second time with her cascade of "He (PBO) doesn't care" and "He's gonna lose", I praised her for being as passionate about her country as I was and asked her to shake my hand, which she did. I even told her that I loved my community and loved her as well, which went unmet with a rejoinder and fell silent at the sidewalk by her "FREEDOM-ROBBERS"(or some similar nonsense) sign-adorned baby stroller. And the scowl never left her face.
     But I did manage to register some folks and reminded more about our new "voter purge scheme"--if you didn't vote in the 2010 midterm in Colorado, you ain't votin' in November, honey--and I got to spend some quality time with LOTS of happy-clappy liberals, some friends, neighbors, teachers, and out-of-state visitors who support President. One man did say, "Don't vote for him," as he passed and another gave me a thumbs-down, but beyond that, all was civil and even congenial. But I tend to start conversations with such things as: "Great hat for the rain", "What a cute puppy", "Keep that baby dry", "Well, you know how to make an entrance" (when a lady stumbled and laughed at herself), "I love that color" (of a teenaged girl's scarf), "Got some good food there", "How'd you get the husband to carry that", "Good to see you", or "Doing great now that it's not raining, aren't we". And that is what I like to do; I like to talk WITH people. I don't care what they think and in many cases I don't even want to know, but if they can carry a conversation, have a good laugh, and tell a nice story them I'm in.
     After my shift was done, I met up with my 11-year-old daughter who was at the end of the block selling lemonade with a friend. She told me that as she and the other girl were standing there, a man came up, stared at her "Obama" button, and placed a Romney sign on her table as he explained, "So people know to vote the RIGHT way." I'm glad I wasn't there because a grown man coming up to two little girls like that smacks of many nasty things to me and I might have gone off on the dude. I found out later he did the same thing to my 22-year-old Obama field organizer for our county which, oddly, made me feel better. At least he wasn't just picking on the yet-to-ovulate women. But--and here's another proud moment--my young daughter grabbed the sign, ripped it to shreds, and threw it in the trashcan.
     I'd say a hell of a lot more good came out of the day than bad. (Hopefully the same holds true for tomorrow when the three-hour table shift will be aimed at collecting donations for the local charity which helps the economically-disadvantaged in our county keep and feed their pets.) But even with the emotional balance sheet coming out black instead of red, I still know that most of the help I give the campaign will have to be done in a behind-the-scenes capacity. I do love my town and I will always maintain that the vast majority of our citizens are wonderful, good people. I choose to believe that if I needed help, they'd give it. And even though the back of my car is plastered in positive Democratic bumperstickers, not once have I endured a comment about them. This is the West where people just stay out of other folks' business, as a rule. My neighbor on the right manned the Obama table with me, and when my neighbor on the left walked by, right-neighbor and I both knew they did not share our slant so we talked about other things. No problem.
     Just now I had to raise the window as my son was knocking on it and wanted to impart some tidbit to me. He said he'd be with his sister down the street at their friends' for a bit longer, then the boy who's friends with my son will be spending the night with us. I said, "Okay, cool" and I really meant it. I adore this family and we are always in touch with each other and I do not know if they vote or how, nor do I want to. You Northern Exposure fans will recall the episode when Joel had to act as the town's psychiatrist. He sat outside The Brick on the bench and told Maggie (who happens to be the same Janine Turner you'll now find on Fox News), "I don't want to know these things about people." I'm glad I "didn't know these things" about Ms. Turner at the time, but I'd like to think I would have loved the show just the same.
     So now it's election season and the trenches on all sides are deep and narrow, but I'm counting on my community to fall back on its pioneer heritage (sans the Indian relocation and buffalo slaughters) and its inherent instincts, despite the spite.
     Call it the high prairie version of live and let live or the mountain method of minding your own business. Say it's the Golden Rule or espouse that "I am my brother's keeper."
In short, it's empathy. It's caring about the village, connecting with the community.
     In a word, it's LOVE.