Letters and happiness

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It's been a great week. I'm getting in a groove. I really love canvassing and now I'm getting the chance to mentor other canvassers because I'm starting training to become a field manager. I've made a commitment to stick with Clean Water Action until Feb. 6 and it feels good not to be thinking about job hunting.

I just feel happy. I don't feel too much like blogging and I guess that's healthy.

Let's see... some highlights from the week:

1. Totally walked through the shrubs of an average-sized lake-front mansion on Grosse Ile this week and found myself on the middle of the lawn of the hugest mansion ever. It had glass windows all around it. Boy, did I feel sneaky. Finally I found a door that was not also a window and knocked. Nobody answered. I really don't think anybody was home. Good thing we canvas with permits. It would have been a little bit embarrassing if I'd encountered security, given that the house is actually heavily gated (I hadn't noticed the gates, of course, since I'd just slipped through an opening in the neighbor's shrubs.

2. Totally bumped into a street sign with the name of this guy who I'm crushing on. Sigh. The small pleasures in life.

3. Got tons of kids and their parents to write letters to President Obama on the topic of significantly raising our miles-per-gallon standards starting in 2017 to decrease our dependency on Foreign Oil. Lots of kids drew pictures on the letters. Some were even related to the topic. We collect the letters at the end of the night. People tape them to their doors. Clean Water Action is hand delivering several thousand letters to President Obama at the end of month.

4. Had a great presentation by Ashley from Cleveland who told us how her organization uses "Good Neighbor Campaigns" to get companies who are major polluters to stop polluting and clean up their acts. Rather than go through the government (since the EPA fines these businesses but doesn't force them to stop polluting), the Cleveland canvas gets people to write letters directly to CEOs of companies and puts pressure on them to become more concerned about toxins and pollution. It's very effective in Ohio.

5. Met Sarah Roberts.

6. Took a little break at an Oak Tree when I was canvassing Saturday afternoon in Saline and met a little gopher-like critter who lives in the tree. Very cute. A little bit shy. I love these little encounters with wildlife.

...........

That's about it. Sorry I just don't feel like writing more this week. I'm busy getting happy.

New Boundaries

I've become quite a compulsive blogger. It's been complimenting my compulsive eating (I've pretty much been eating compulsively ever since late February when I started blogging) and keeping me from doing some important things I need to be doing -- like laundry and getting to my eating meetings and going to the gym.

It all started with trying to be a great saleswoman, I suppose. I was so bent on being the super hero who proved she could beat the recession in Michigan after all the attention my stories were receiving on Open Salon. After having received such a rude and abrupt dismissal from the Ann Arbor News in 2005, I'd really lost my confidence as a journalist. So I guess I thought I had something to prove.

Well, I did prove some things -- but I didn't prove I could become a rock-star saleswoman with no previous experience and single-handedly beat the recession in Michigan.

I guess I won't be doing any book signings or window displays at Borders in the spring. No kidding, some of my buddies on Open Salon were certain I was writing a bestseller. They were also certain that I wasn't only going to make 57 K this year but that I was going to make 75 K. But there's so much gratuitous flattery on Open Salon. People are overly gushy, in part, because they want you to visit their posts and say equally gratuitous things. I admit, I did it too. It's the culture -- something like Junior High School. And what's really sad is, who knows if Borders will even be around in the spring considering the rate at which bookstores are closing.

I am sorry to disappoint anybody. But I expect I'll earn less this year than I earned last year.

At least I've learned some things about compassion for myself and others. That's pretty useful, I suppose, and not to be underrated.

But I've made some decisions about my life this weekend that pretty much rule out the possibility of me getting anywhere near that 57K this year. In fact, the path I've decided to take ensures that I'll only make about $12,500 in the next six months.

It feels peaceful to me. I've never needed expensive things to be happy. I've only needed to enjoy what I'm doing and feel respected and appreciated by the people around me. I feel that way at Clean Water Action. And since I've got about fifty pounds to lose (that will probably take twelve months, not six), I need to keep my work life really simple.

I don't want to look for a different job right now. I just want to work for Clean Water Action for the next six months while I really focus on my eating program. It's something I've learned over the years that I have to be extremely diligent about. It takes commitment. It takes time. It's not easy. But it brings me so much peace.

I'd much rather be free from the habit of compulsive overeating than be rich. I'd much rather be free from the habit of compulsive overeating than have a job that people admire.

So I'll start considering how I'll layer my clothing during the winter months while I consider this important canvassing work that so many people frown upon. I'll get a headlamp so I can read house numbers during callbacks. It's already getting dark by 8p.m. and we canvass until 9 p.m.

I'll just suit up and show up and do the best I can.

Oh, and with regard to the blogging - I'm going back to once a week, at least for the next thirty days. I was starting to get my urge to save the world again. It's something that comes up when my eating is out of control -- this whole saving the world business. Most people really don't want to be saved. And I'm not very good at saving anybody, anyway. It's my big sisters who are the nurses, not me.

Big Sigh.

Thank God I don't have to save the world or anybody in it today.

The only person who I have to take really good care of is me.

Goodbye flower-frosted cookies from the all-night-drive-through bakery. It wasn't really all that much fun while it lasted anyway. To be honest with you, you're really sort of disgusting and certainly crumby.

Off-the-beaten-path Public Meetings

I'm all upset about Hydrofracking. I've been promoting a trailer for the movie Gasland in Facebook status updates and in my blog for a few weeks now. This week I spoke to a woman who was approached by a gas company that wanted to buy her mineral rights for $50 an acre. She didn't go for it but several of her neighbors did.

Hydrofracking is a dangerous process. I ruins land and water. It isn't fair. Big corporations are taking advantage of farmers and innocent people. That's what bothers me the most, I guess. The way in which people are being ripped off and mislead and the way in which journalism seems broken in our state and unable to protect people from being used in such situations.

When I was a newspaper reporter, one of my favorite things to do was to attend some way-off-the-beaten-track public meeting about something really important -- some meeting where you would never see television news or even radio -- the sort of public meeting turf where only paper newspaper reporters tred. Loved those nights. I'd trade my one-on-one-close-up-and-on-the-couch-45-minute interview with Bobby Kennedy, Jr. for a super important and underexposed back woods public meeting any day. And in addition to being extremely handsome, Bobby has tons of good and important things to say about the envornment and suggestions for how we can protect it (campaign finance reform being at the top of the list!). I just never felt democracy at work as strongly as when I attended those off-the-beaten-path meetings where important decisions were being made. It was important to witness and report. I knew it mattered.

I miss those meetings not only because I don't cover them anymore -- but because nobody does. With the state of journalism in Michigan today, those extremely important meetings are really not covered.

I fear for the consequences this will have on our state -- especially the cost to our environment. City hall and school board meetings will still be available on public access stations in many cases. Concerned people will have to seek out those meetings. But at least there is a tool in place for finding out what's going on. It's the smaller meetings -- township government, zoning boards of appeals... that really don't get much coverage at all now.

It's really frightening to me.

Maybe we should start using social media to cover meetings and keep each other informed. I don't know what the answer is. But I see the problem and it's big.

This Land Is Your Land

Today I had the honor of canvassing in the rain to protect our Great Lakes Water Basin.

It was a beautiful day.

I'm so grateful to live in a democracy.

But it only works when we work it.

On Sept. 11, 2001 I was reporting about the local shock-wave effect of the terrorist attacks. I watched the second tower fall with a classroom of sixth graders at Erickson Elementary School in Ypsilanti. Some of the kids had cousins who lived in New York City.

I felt so glad to be a part of a newspaper community then. When I went home that evening to my flat on Woodland Drive in Ann Arbor, I parked on the street as usual and nodded in commiserative sadness at Mrs. Baxter who was on the front lawn with her dog. She and the dog are prominant characters in the first few pages of her husband's book Feast Of Love which in September 2001 had recently been nominated for a National Book Award.

The newspaper is gone. I don't live in my cool flat on Woodland Drive anymore. The Baxters moved to Minnesota.

Everything's changed, it seems.

But today I felt exactly where I needed to be -- climbing front steps, knocking on doors, talking to people about how they can contribute to bipartisan political change.

It felt good. People were so welcoming and responsive. I didn't have an umbrella and my hair was pretty wet. I didn't care. They didn't, either. It was a warm rain. I felt charged. They gave generously.

As I finished my day I realized I'd thrown a faded red jacket over my navy and white cotton dress. So I really was all red, white and blue today.

I like that.

Now

(Writer's note... I don't have time to edit this stuff. Please accept it in this first-draft-once-through format!)


I like money. I'm not opposed to making it -- in fact, I'd love to make a ton of it. I'm even open to falling in love with a rich man. But I just never do -- I just never fall in love with the job or man that will lead to wealth and prosperity. I'm no hippie, either. I mean let's face it, I'm typing with a gorgeous French manicure that I did myself yesterday. If I could afford salon manicures and pedicures, I'd be in there every week, maybe even twice a week just for the chatty atmosphere and trashy magazines. I'd do all the luxury stuff that I could afford -- massages, personal trainers, home gym, personal assistant (man I'd love a personal assistant; wouldn't that be AWESOME?) first-class air travel (I got bumped up to First Class from Frankfurt to Detroit once. It was just wonderful. They even gave me a rose.). I have good taste. I like to be pampered. I love travel and I'm lucky enough to have been to Paris, Italy and Greece on separate occasions. But whatever luxuries I've stumbled upon in life, I've really, really, just stumbled upon. I've never expected them or gone out looking for them. So sweetly, I've just happened upon them.

And when I'm old and gray and resting on my death bed (I am accident prone but not much of a risk taker, so I imagine I'll probably get an opportunity to lay around for a few weeks and have a nice dramatic death, receiving tearful visits from my beloved friends and family while I dose in and out of a morphine haze. That's just what I'm thinkin'. But of course, one never knows.)... So anyway, when I'm old and gray and on my death bed, recounting the moments I've enjoyed most on this earth, I'm sure I'll recall particular kisses and embraces and memories of certain cities and countries that I've been in during my meandering life. I'll remember Christmases and birthdays and holding babies in my arms. But I think I'll also recall quite vividly the memory of the rain and walking in it. I love walking in a soft, warm rain. If there are puddles, even better. Off with the shoes. I love to step in them.

I suppose the fact that I love the rain says something about my heart and its resistance to striving so hard for a new opportunity. Something I love about walking in the rain is how it puts a hush on the noise of the world and the noise in my head. It brings me to center. It brings me to now.

When I went on a date with that cute guy who was such a great storyteller a few weeks ago (I'm still crushing on him and expect there will be a third date sometime. Maybe not.) He asked me what I would prefer to do: take a time machine forward in time or future in time and what would I do? I told him I wouldn't do either because I'm all about the now. Certainly, I was enjoying his company very much. Who wouldn't? He's a total hottie! But even today, when I'm just sitting here all alone in my sweatpants typing out my little blog post with my little old homemade manicure, I'm thinking life is pretty good as it is. I like it here in the moment. It's messy. There's a heap of clothes on the floor and I should certainly clean my bathroom sink. I have some responsibilities I should be getting to. For one thing, I have to call Aflac and cancel all the policies I took out on myself when I was trying to become a rock-star insurance agent. Dang it. That will cost me some money, I'll bet. I haven't wanted to face it, exactly. But even still, with all its disappointments, with all its messes, with all my little aches and pains, this day is the most special of any other day that has ever happened or any other day that will be. It is special to me because it is where I am. I just like it. You know?

I'm excited about the people I will meet today -- once I finally get up and going. Heaven forbid, it's well past 11 'o clock already. I wonder who will be at the bank and who will be at the phone store and what new people will be trying out Clean Water Action for the first time and who will I meet on turf today.

This is the very best day. I love this day.

Yesterday I had a wonderful night canvassing in Chelsea. It was so much better than it was a few days ago when we canvassed in Chelsea. The first door I knocked on had a teenager who was willing to write a letter to President Obama. Later in the evening I went back to get his letter and he had recruited his elementary-aged brother and his mother to write letters as well. A few doors later (it was a condominium complex, so I didn't have to walk far between doors) I met a woman who was visiting her father who was very hard of hearing. I am able to talk very loud when I need to and I was able to communicate the details of our campaign to protect Michigan from the bottled water industry very effectively. He gave a very generous donation. While he was getting it together I started talking to his daughter who is very knowledgeable about water issues in our state. I asked her if she had heard about hydrofracking. She told me she had. And not only has she heard about it but a natural gas company approached her to see if they could buy the mineral rights to her property for $50 per acre. She said she did not sign on but she saved her paperwork. She said some of her neighbors signed their mineral rights away.

Sweet Jesus, I just know you have me walking out in these neighborhoods for some reason. Thank you very much for the people I meet and the stories they share with me.

I didn't think the problem was so close to home already. But it's here -- just like the Asian Carp. Our waters are in immediate peril.

The last door upon was at exactly 9 p.m. I just had to knock on one more door and this door called to me. It had those lawn lights that stick up from the grass -- but not white lights like you typically see. Each light was a different color. Seemingly someone had hand changed the bulbs. I don't think they sell them in all those colors. The house had a warm glow to it. I knocked. An older man answered. When I say he was an older man, I mean nowadays that he was only about twenty years older than me. I said my name and mentioned that I was from Clean Water Action.

"You guys just called me today!"

"Oh wow. That was our national office. Did you help them out?"

"Yes, I did."

"Well thanks so much. They do really great work, too."

"You guys are getting me from every side!" he said, pulling open his wallet a little bit dramatically and also in a way that endeared me to him. A sucker knows a fellow sucker when she meets one.

I laughed.

"So I'm out here tonight fighting to stop the bottled water industry from taking over our state. You want to pitch in?"

"Yes," he said. "Just a minute."

He went away from the door, leaving behind a few big dogs, seemingly a black and a yellow lab.

"They like you," he called from another room. "That one likes everybody but this other one doesn't. She usually doesn't like people. She was abused."

"All the dogs love me. I smell like a dog park. I am a dog park. I'm basically a walking dog park."

He returned to he door with $20 in his hand, not even having taken a minute yet to sign the petition. I just loved this guy.

"I'm a Vietnam veteran."

"Thank you," I said. "I wore a POW bracelet to kindergarten. I had teenage sisters who gave it to me."

"Thank you," he said.

"This is very generous of you. Please take a minute to sign your name here, too." I handed him the statement of support. He handed the clipboard back to me after signing.

I gave him a warm hug as I left. I hugged quite a few people that night. I'm pretty huggy with our supporters. The best hug came from the generous Vietnam veteran. He might have smelled like patchouli or something a little bit like that.

As I turned to leave the rose bushes that were invading his porch grabbed my legs.

"Watch out," he said. "Those roses have thorns."

For more information on hydrofracking, please see...

Bruce Patterson's Mustache and Me

Glossary of canvassing terms:
Rap: The conversation you have at a door.
Contact: The person you speak to at a door.
Turf: The neighborhood or area in which you work.
Burb: The van or suburban vehicle that delivers you to turf.

Tuesday was a primo day with Clean Water Action -- just loved it. The BEST THING was I got to be the driver -- and I got to drive Bruce Patterson's Mustache.

Loved it, such a gas. Some of you are now wondering who Bruce Patterson is and what his moustache has to do with anything and why was I driving Bruce Patterson's Moustache and HOW WAS I DRIVING BRUCE PATTERSON'S MOUSTACHE and what's the price of tea in China anyway!!!

Well, the good news is -- oh curious readers -- I'm here to tell you all about it, just sitting here with a cup a joe and my poodle throw in my snugly jammies about to tell you the whole story. Yay for me. Yay for you.

Bruce Patterson is a Michigan State Senator. I think his voting record with regard to the Great Lakes leaves something to be desired. But the man has quite a fine moustache. I mean seriously, if you're going to wear a moustache, whey the heck not WEAR A MOUSTACHE!!!!! You've got to respect a man who goes so far over the top with facial hair styling. He's committed to that moustache, Bruce Patterson, no doubt about it.

So now you know about Bruce, and his fine white feeler.

(There are a paltry number of options for the person seeking a synonym for the word moustache, incidentally as evidenced by this entry from the Third Edition of Roget's 21st Century Thesaurus Online...

Main Entry: hair
Part of Speech: noun
Definition: threadlike growth on animate being
Synonyms: beard, bristle, cilium, coiffure, cowlick, cut, down, eyebrow, eyelash, feeler, fiber, filament, fluff, fringe, frizzies, fur, grass, haircut, hairstyle, lock, mane, mop, moustache , quill, ruff, shock, sideburn, split ends, strand, thatch, tress, tuft, vibrissa, villus, whiskers, wig, wool
Notes: hair is any of the cylindrical filaments characteristically growing from the epidermis of a mammal; a hare is a large, long-eared and long-legged rabbit; an heir is a person who is entitled by law or by the terms of a will to inherit the estate of another.)

I digress...

Back to what you're really wondering; that is: HOW WAS I DRIVING BRUCE PATTERSON'S MOUSTACHE?

Well, that's the thing about Clean Water Action. It's a strange place that transports me to magical lands with lawn gnomes, the Blessed Mother and more configurations of cement deer than you could possibly imagine. And how do canvassers such as myself get transported to this magical land we call turf? By way of Bruce Patterson's Moustache and Lima and Frank.

We name the vehicles we take to turf, the "burbs." We have a big green vehicle called Lima because it looks like a lima bean.We have a smaller tan burb called Frank (I don't recall why) and, of course, we have the enormous, well-used, white cargo van affectionately known as Bruce Patterson's Moustache for its prominent size and bright whiteness.

Sweet, isn't it? I knew you'd love it too.

So, I wasn't certain how much I would actually enjoy driving a menagerie of canvassers through the Greater Detroit Metropolitan Area. It's quite a lot of responsibility. But when I was asked to submit my driver's license information to enable Clean Water Action to add me to its insurance policy, I felt happy immediately as I always enjoy taking on new responsibilities and challenges. I thought I might be nervous, however. But I wasn't all that nervous. It was so much fun. Eric Keller (Who is actually ten minutes older than his twin brother, Rob Keller. I stand corrected from the 17-minute statement I wrote in my last report) was the field manager and sat up front with me, adjusting the radio (an important job), navigating and running raps and informative conversations with the menagerie of canvassers as I drove from Ann Arbor to St. Claire Shores.

Seems everybody liked my driving, too. They said so. They even clapped. Yay! I just love positive affirmations.

So I guess I'll be driving quite often now. It's nice to have a new responsibility. Oh and in addition to getting to drive Bruce Patterson's Moustache, I canvassed canal turf for the first time ever. That was sweet. People were extremely supportive and I had nice long conversations with them about our water issues. One lovely couple invited me in to sit for quite awhile. He is a retired surgeon. They are fox hunters and collectors of some wonderful paintings. The minute I walked in the front door I was quite struck by one painting in particular. I will post a picture of it that I took with my camera phone. Unfortunately, once again, I left the scrap of paper with the artist's name and the title at the Clean Water Action office. I hope you can appreciate it for what it is.

Just beautiful.

Don't be one of "Those People"

Glossary of canvassing terms:
Rap: The conversation you have at a door.
Contact: The person you speak to at a door.
Turf: The neighborhood or area in which you work.
Burb: The van or suburban vehicle that delivers you to turf.

Last night I did sides with Rob, a clean-cut tall and handsome guy in his middle twenties. His twin brother, Eric, also works for Clean Water Action. Eric is like seventeen minutes older and it fascinates me how Eric projects the classic personality traits of an oldest child and Rob projects the personality traits of a youngest child. He's fun. He's easy going. He's nice to everybody. And on top of that, he's cute. Who wouldn't want him at the door?

When we "do sides" we share a street. One of us takes the houses on one side, the other takes houses on the other side. We repeat this pattern until we finish the turf and then work on callbacks. A nice thing about doing sides is that you work as a team, giving each other high fives as appropriate and encouraging words as needed to keep each other's energy focused and positive.

I thought we were going to make a great team -- two youngest children (actually Eric and Rob have a much-younger half sister, but as I said, he projects that enthusiastic and warm youngest-child energy) canvassing in a nice neighborhood in Chelsea. Chelsea has become something of a miniture Ann Arbor (without the University and the residual culture from events such as Hash Bash and the Naked Mile). Chelsea's a cool town -- with Jeff Daniel's Purple Rose Theater, lots of kayaks, canoes and small sailboats in people's driveways, tons of original artwork apparent from the doorstep, gardens. This is turf where you would expect to find tons of supporters. And we did find quite a few supporters. We did OK. We made our basic financial goals for the night. But we ran into a problem.

The problem we encountered last night in Chelsea is a common problem: People who don't give money at the door to anybody -- no matter how much they believe in and support the cause.

There were tons of those people in this neighborhood. Rob and I kept encountering them and it's so frustrating. They say, "can you leave me something I can mail in" or "isn't there somewhere I can donate on the internet" or "can't you mail me something" or "won't you send me something by e-mail?"

Clean Water Action has a long tradition of door-to-door education and fundraising. We go to neighborhoods annually (no sooner than every eight months and usually twelve months between visits) We are affiliated with a national Clean Water Action network and within the past few years our national campaign has begun contacting supporters by phone to do fundraising. That may turn some people off. Others seem to be relying on the phone calls from the national campaign now. Just about every organization operates this way these days. People get calls from all sorts of charities and organizations. And most of those organizations send information in the mail, too.

If you give to Clean Water Action over the phone, it helps the national campaign and someone in another state benefits from collecting your donation. If you give to Clean Water Action, or any other organization that canvasses door-to-door, you are supporting the local economy -- in fact, you are directly supporting the person who is standing on your door.

When we come around to the door, It's democracy in action. I am going to try to develop an effective rap for these people who prefer giving money over the phone or internet. Some people are, unfortunately, a bit insulting at the door -- as if they think we are going to run off with their donation or something. We always write reciepts, work with picture identification cards and have local permits to canvas in every community we visit. I dress pretty well. In fact, I've decided to try out French manicures. I had a couple done at salons in the past and I always enjoyed that. Now that I am on a shoe-string budget, I had a friend explain to me how to do them my self. I find I am more successful at fundraising when my nails look nice.

I just wanted to say something about these people who "don't give to ANYBODY at the door" because it is a "personal policy."

If you are one of these people, rethink this policy. It's a really BAD policy. It's bad for democracy in general. It's bad for the local economy -- and it's absolutely the inverse of a "random act of kindness."

Frankly, I find it to be a bit insulting. I'm an educated woman. I worked for more than a decade as a journalist and can give people the inside scoop on lots of local and state issues. I know many lawmakers personally. I completed a fellowship in Great Lakes Environmental Journalism at Michigan State University. I was born in Michigan. I love our state. I am a sailor. What else do these people want to know before they will feel comfortable parting with $20 for a cause they proclaim they support absolutely?

Seriously, don't be one of those people who looks a canvasser in the eye and tells them you support the cause but you have a pesonal policy not to give anything at the door.

It's a bad policy. Rethink it.