Here participation seems sparse.  Each time I endeavor to become involved, I find that all the events are at least thirty miles away from my home.  I loathe driving.  Therefore, I do not travel far.  In the last many months, since living south of numerous borders, I have not actively contributed to the political process.

I was feeling very frustrated.  Uncharacteristically I have been living a life that does not fit my basic need.  I am not apathetic; I care for this country and want to do all I can to improve this nation.  I believe in civic activism.  In recent years, I feel this construct is more essential.  I crave a citizenry that knows to their core, government is of, by, and for the people.  As I stated earlier, I am an authentic activist.

As I observed this new world around me, I contemplated what was evident and wondered of what was not.  I knew nothing with certainty.  I asked; is protesting less prevalent in this southeastern state?  Do few question the "powers that be?"  Each was a stark possibility.  Now, I not only live in Bush country, I reside in a region dominated by another Baby Bush.

However, each person I chatted with in my first eleven months in Florida was and is extremely out-spoken.  This state seems to be filled with liberals.  How could this be?  The state seems so very conservative. 

Laws here leave much to be desired.  Companies and counties have exceptionally restrictive policies.  The regulations in this land are not compassionate.  Poor people are punished for their station.  The middle, the masses fare no better.  In Florida, the affluent do extremely well; the rest of us seem to merely serve and support their needs.  I am aware of this.  However, still, with a sigh, I "march" on.  I continue to search for a means; I long to participate.

Finally, days ago, in one of my regular electronic mailings from MoveOn.org, I discovered an opportunity, right here in my fair city.  I verified the information for I fear it is "too good to be true." 

I have come to realize that I live in a city of extremes.  The population is split; some are exceedingly wealthy, many are remarkably impoverished.  The variance is great.  The middle class here is barely surviving.  Perhaps that is why there are so few political events.  Those that might care are struggling.  They chase their dreams, work to make ends meet, and have little time to seek sovereignty.  Many have shared with me; they are resigned to accept what is.

Nevertheless, despite what I have witnessed and experienced, the possibility was real.  I could volunteer in my home community.  I could again consider myself a genuine activist.  Thankfully, it has not been a full year since I last stretched my dovish wings.  If I had been caged for that long, I do not know how I would do or feel.  Once certain that this possibility was real I began to sing.  "Free at least; thank G-d Almighty, I am free at last."

Until the actual moment I wondered, would this dream come true?  I did not have the exact address.  MovOn.org telephoned me to thank me for volunteering.  They asked if I was willing to do more than the one telephone banking.  I had hoped they were calling with directions for I had written an electronic communiqué requesting such.  However, the woman on the call had none.  She heard of the event I registered for, and yet, she had no details.

Finally, they arrived.  The directions, an exact address, a telephone number, and the name of the host came later in a mail.  With this more specific information, my excitement grew.  I could barely believe that this was occurring.  I would again connect to my rebel roots.

In years past, phone polling was never done in the privacy of a home.  Cell telephones were not requested.  Calls I made were placed from Democratic Headquarters, a Union Hall, or the privacy of my home.  This novel approach added to my apprehension.  What was I to expect.  A new city, a new state, and now, a new-fangled method for reaching out and touching potential voters; I was feeling anxious.

I telephoned the host of the "Call for Change" party.  I requested further directions, and planned my drive.  The conversation was quite pleasant.  The property was not far.  The instructions were excellent.  I arrived safely.  My interest was peaked.

As I drove past the guard gate and into the neighborhood, I saw houses that I never imagined.  They were neatly tucked away, beyond the major thoroughfares.  These dwellings were just shy of estates.  They were huge.  The lawns were manicured.  Trees lined the avenue.  To think, I would telephone from such a place.  This was certainly a contrast.  As I stated, in the past, participation was public and in a facility that was not necessarily well cared for.  Union Halls and Democratic headquarters are often stark, and somewhat sterile.

I marveled as I approached the house.  I rang the front-door bell and within minutes, a lovely and genteel lady opened the portal.  She led me in and directed me to her husband.  He had organized the event.  I handed him the two dollars MoveOn mentioned; it was meant to cover the cost of copying papers.  The host seemed horrified.  Why would I give him money?  I explained.  He said he wanted no dollars or cents.  This was his pleasure.  Apparently, I was the first to offer currency, though I was not the first to arrive.

There were many callers throughout this stately abode.  I was gratified.  For two and one half hours, I dialed and delivered my less than canned speech to Ohio voters.  This was the focus group. 

I addressed many an answering machine.  I spoke with some individuals.  Numerous individuals abruptly ended the conversation after a few short words.  Reassuring them that I was not fundraising worked well; however, mention of the Tuesday election seemed to turn numerous respondents off. 

Some mentioned they had not only made up their minds, they voted weeks earlier.  One man was so disillusioned he was considering not casting a ballot.  We conversed for many minutes.  He was a wise man.  I recommended he run for office.  I assured him, he would have my vote.

Another resident was happy to share her situation.  We spoke endlessly.  She told me of her community, of the religious right that governs.  This extremely well informed individual shared stories that would curl your hair.  Oh, what goes on in a public library, the place of her last employ?  Yes, church and state were one.

Ms. Doe told tales of bigotry and xenophobia even among those that appear alike.  Apparently, in her small town, if your family did not go back for generations, if headstones in the local graveyard did not bare your family name, then you were indeed a stranger, an alien on your own property.  It mattered not, that through marriage surnames were changed.  As this woman spoke of her experiences in Middle America, she expressed disgust.  I too was distressed.

However, I was "Calling for Change."  I had an opportunity to speak with citizens in Ohio; fortunately, I found a friend, an ally, and another woman calling for a transformation.  We each discussed our peaceful manner and beliefs.  We want a revolution, though a quiet, caring one.  We want Americans to vote!  Jane Doe did cast her ballot four weeks ago.

My hope is that if you have not yet done as she did, you will.  Tuesday, November 7, 2006 is another day; yet, it is a date like no other.  Please vote.

References and Reflections . . .

• Sherrod Brown.
  
• Call For Change: It's Too Close NOT to Call
  
• Ohio Elections
  
• Final Ohio Poll has Dems winning governor, Senate races.
  
• Call for Change, By Kos. DailyKos. Wednesday, October 18, 2006
  
• Call For Change, By Chris Bowers, MyDD. Wednesday, October 18, 2006
  

• 1-866-My-Vote-1 Help for Voters
  
• MoveOn.org
  
• Project Vote Smart
  
• League of Women Voters
  
• Vote.com

Betsy L. Angert
BeThink.org or Be-Think