This last Saturday, for the first time in my life, I went door-to-door canvassing for my local
Democratic Congressional candidate. At one of the first houses I visited, there was a man about my age outside watching his young son play. I asked him if he had decided who he would vote for in November, and he stated that he had moved to the area recently, adding the typical Xer response "I really don't like
either party."
I briefly gave him the spiel about my candidate, and he listened politely; then looked at me searchingly and asked "Why are
you here? You have a full-time job, kids to care for, and it's a nice day -- why are you spending your time doing
this?"
In response, I made a few comments about how I was impressed by my candidate, and how her positions and concerns reflected mine [she's an Xer, and the incumbent is a Boomer -- all talk and no action]; but then I added, it goes deeper than that. I've always been "a pox on both their houses" guy [I voted for Perot and Nader before Kerry], and probably still am. However, I said, I finally realized that this country is stuck on dead center, and it can't continue; I feel I need to get personally involved to get things moving again.
He thanked me and I left a flyer. I doubt I changed his mind, but I really enjoyed the conversation. With that setting the tone, I had a pleasant if not exactly productive afternoon.
At the next-to-last house I visited, I was looking for a young male (the walking list gives the age and gender of the registered voter to contact.) His father answered the door, and indicated that his son was currently serving his third tour in Iraq. I said, "that's good; he can still vote there." He said, "yes, but he won't be voting Democratic." I noted that my candidate was the daughter and the spouse of a veteran, so that she is very responsive to veterans' issues; to which the father responded with a tight-lipped smile, "yes, but she belongs to a party that doesn't believe in security." (That's an exact quote.) His son was listed as a 21-year old, so that would make him an early-wave Millie and his father a Boomer.
So here we are. I personally am beginning to come out of my nomad cocoon and face the responsibilities I have to this world. Others near my age -- perhaps not quite ready to accept their own generational roles -- at least recognize the tension of the approaching social moment.
For me, it took a divorce (after 14 years), and an accompanying crisis of faith (I no longer consider myself a practicing Mormon), to get me off the dime. What will it take for the others I have just described?