On The Iowa Trail With Dean's Texas Rangers--part Two

On The Iowa Trail with Dean's Texas Rangers-- Part Two

http://www.earthwire.net/dean/iowa/Part_2.asp

ON THE IOWA TRAIL WITH DEAN’S TEXAS RANGERS by M. Martin

Introduction Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Afterword

(copyright 2004, all rights reserved)

Making my way from the bathhouse in the early light of the next morning, I notic ed for the first time the c amp site’s rustic beauty. T he c abins were sc attered on the side of a hill, on the top of whic h was a line of forest and at the bottom of whic h was the ac c ess road and a parking lot. Below that was a steeper inc line that terminated at a frozen lake, and the stream that fed it. At one end of the lake, a wooden bridge c onnec ted the c ampground with some ambiguous group of struc tures on the other side of the lake. Even though we saw no snowfall during our stay in Iowa, it had evidently snowed just prior to our arrival. T here were patc hes of the stuff everywhere. Ms. T joined me, freshly showered and c heerful, c heeks pink from the c old. T he orange Deanie Beanie c omplemented her blonde hair and blues eyes marvelously. I c ould not imagine anyone not wishing her to appear at their front door, no matter who she was solic iting for. I was less c ertain of my rec eption. I had misplac ed my beanie while unloading the bus last night. For a variety of reasons, the shaved head and c ropped fac e hair I favor is not a c ommon style in rural Iowa. I was wearing the warmest garments I had, inc luding a blac k leather trenc h c oat, a hooded sweatshirt, and a leather baseball c ap I’d pic ked up in Paris. T o identify myself as a Dean volunteer, I had liberally adorned the c oat and c ap with Dean stic kers. Hopefully-partic ularly with Ms. T at my side--no one would c all the polic e. T he opportunity to sleep in a fully prone position had done everyone’s disposition a world of good. I remembered with some embarrassment arguing over a non-issue the night before and dec ided that I would endeavor to be a better team player going forward. T he weather had improved somewhat as well. It was still overc ast, but at least the rain had stopped. At about 8:30, two vans went bac k to Des Moines, while the rest of the Rangers went to Ames to do c anvassing. One van was piloted by my new old friend Robin, the other by a round and vivac ious woman named Kim. Ms. T and I piled into Robin’s van, bound for the blogger breakfast and whatever work we would be assigned at headquarters. ***** T he site of the blogger breakfast was an arboretum / c ivic c enter under a geodesic dome. It was interesting to experienc e temperatures and flora c omparable to what we had left behind on the T exas Gulf Coast, and still be able to look thru the side of the dome at a hard-frozen river and streets strewn with slush. T he purpose of the blogger breakfast was to give the various “blog” c ontributors from around the c ountry some fac e time with eac h other. Sinc e I had c ontributed to a Dean blog exac tly onc e, and Ms. T not at all, our presenc e there was somewhat questionable—it was free breakfast, though, and the YMCA c amp had not so muc h as a c offee urn. Over breakfast, we met a blogger from Dallas named Lanni who was in the middle of telling another Ranger about a c hanc e enc ounter with John Kerry and wife at a democ ratic fundraiser. Apparently T eresa Heinz Kerry had been in the middle of a lively disc ussion with a group of female Dean supporters when John and his entourage showed up and insisted she board the elevator with them—whether

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09/05/2009 07:36 AM

On The Iowa Trail with Dean's Texas Rangers-- Part Two

http://www.earthwire.net/dean/iowa/Part_2.asp she wanted to or not. We all laughed over the punc h line: T eresa Heinz Kerry shouting “Dammit, John, I’m an independent woman!” as the elevator c ut off the sound of her voic e. After breakfast, Ms. T and I opted to ride with Kim and Lanni, who were detouring by Des Moines’s airport to drop off a volunteer who had to fly home for a family emergenc y. After the bone-c hilling experienc e of c anvassing in the rain the day before, we were in no hurry to hit the street again. Bac k at HQ, we regrouped into a team c onsisting of myself and Ms. T with Robin again taking duty as our driver. Joining us was one of mine & Ms. T ’s c abin mates—a UT student named Patric k, and a 50-ish c ommerc ial air pilot from Dallas named Ric h. Patric k had a mop of c urly blac k hair under his beanie, a beakish nose, and wire rimmed glasses. T o pic ture Ric h, imagine the Peter Graves c harac ter from Airplane!, minus the pedophiliac tendenc ies and uniform, and with a rumbling, T exas-twanged voic e. Again, we were the perfec t pic ture of Dean diversity—the pic ture you won’t see in mainstream media. Our assignment was to go door to door in a small town west of Des Moines c alled Newton, and ask registered democ rats to vote for Howard Dean. Canvassing is one of the most demanding tasks of any politic al c ampaign. But even in a c ampaign that has made as muc h use of tec hnology as the Dean Campaign, it is one of the most essential. It is an opportunity to direc tly c ontac t and perhaps influenc e people on a personal basis. Neither media nor T he Internet offer anything quite like it. We pic ked a c ombined A&W Root Beer / Long John Silver franc hise in the middle of town as our regroup point and set out. Patric k and Robin formed one team, Ms. T and I another. Robin opted to go out by himself. Canvassing is hard work, and I’m not sure I’d attempt it in Houston without a flak jac ket, but it c an also be very rewarding. Even people who had no interest in supporting Dean were grac ious to us, partic ularly after we happened to inform them we had c ome all the way from T exas to do this work. A few things bec ame fairly obvious fairly quic kly. One was a very c lear c orrelation between age and Dean support. Most of the people we spoke to were retirees from either agric ulture or “rust-belt” heavy industry—very pro-labor, very pro-Gephardt. T he exc eptions, people in their 20’s thru 40’s, were all either pro-Dean or independents leaning toward Dean. Another thing we notic ed among these small-town Midwestern democ rats was a loathing for George W. Bush equal to our own. Coming from T exas and use to hearing every single abuse of grammar or presidential power defended without question, this was refreshing indeed. Bac k at the A&W, Patric k and Robin sipped meditatively on root beer floats while Ms. T and I wolfed down c hili c heese fries and Ric h used his c raggy good looks to persuade the c ounter girl to c auc us for Dean. We had gotten slightly better than halfway thru our address lists, and were c onsidering another run through the neighborhoods, when the early impending sunset c onvinc ed us otherwise. Ric h rec alled the presenc e of a brewpub, T he Rac c oon River Brewing Company, a few bloc ks from headquarters. It was an easily-reac hed c onsensus that we should visit this brewpub as soon as we c hec ked in our materials at HQ. Ms. T and I wound up spending more than a few hours at the pub. First we had dinner and drinks with our c anvassing team. T hen, as

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09/05/2009 07:36 AM

On The Iowa Trail with Dean's Texas Rangers-- Part Two

http://www.earthwire.net/dean/iowa/Part_2.asp that group was headed to the door and bac k to c amp, Kim and Lanni—the women we’d had breakfast with— appeared, and offered Ms. T and I a ride bac k to c amp if we wanted to hang with them and have a few more drinks while they had dinner. We happily ac c epted. While Kim and Lanni waited for a table, Ms. T and I retired to the bar for a smoke. We had time for a c ouple. Rac c oon River Brewing Company was pac ked, mostly with exuberant people wearing orange c aps. A few tables were stoc ked with more dignified types in suits— either Kerry supporters or republic ans— who plainly wished to be somewhere else.

We wound up pic king up our immediate boss, Glen Maxey, at HQ on the way bac k to c amp. We were c onsiderably relieved when Glen informed us the entire c amp would be permitted a late start the next day. When Ms. T and I were finally able to make our way up the hill to our c abin, I happened to look up. T he c louds had blown over at around sundown, and the sky was c rystal c lear. T hat c rystal c lear sky was c rowded with more stars than I had ever seen in my life. I pointed them out to Ms. T . “Yeah, they’re great,” she said. “I just wish the big yellow star that keeps us warm was overhead right now.” “Unfortunately, its on the other side of the planet right now,” I said, as I felt the novel sensation of my breath freezing in my mustac he. T hat was probably the c oldest night of our stay in Iowa. Onc e in the night, I arose to answer a c all of nature. T he stars were even brighter, and the silenc e stunning to a c ity dweller like myself. As the c old lanc ed thru my c lothing, I dec ide that—no matter how muc h my bladder c omplained—I would not venture again from my sleeping bag until the big yellow star was again in the sky. Continued >>

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09/05/2009 07:36 AM