Votezilla

I've just had my first experience of registering voters and I believe I may have missed my calling. Not only did I love it, but to my surprise, I was good at it. Normally I hate accosting strangers. I may be one of the few women around who would rather get hopelessly lost than stop and ask directions. There's always a tape playing in my head of the reasons someone probably doesn't want to talk to me: they're late for an appointment; it's time for their son's nap; they just had a fight with their husband. Even if they're not in a hurry, maybe they're in a bad mood.

But armed with a clipboard and a fresh batch of crisp white voter registration forms, I turned out to be unstoppable. No excuses. Kids fussy? I'm happy to amuse them while you fill out your form. Need to check in for a doctor's appointment? I'll sit with you in the waiting room while you get this done. Aren't eligible to vote because you are an ex-felon? Wait! The law has changed! Sit right here and we'll get you registered. It will only take a minute.

Not everyone needed persuading. Many people I met had already registered to vote, and some expressed great enthusiasm about our efforts. There were hugs and offers of help. Thus I enlisted several deputies, including Kenneth Eady, a young man who told me that he was planning to attend a vice-presidential-debate-watching party that night at a skating rink. The voter registration deadline was looming and he was sure that some of the guests still needed signing up. I gave him all the forms I had left. “When everyone gets there,” I joked, “just lock the door and don't let them out until they've filled out the forms.”

I phoned the next day to see how things had gone, and discovered that Kenneth also had succumbed to registration fever. After signing up a dozen or so new voters at the roller rink, he'd acquired a second batch of forms from the Vote from Home headquarters. I caught him just as he was about to head out and start canvassing campus restaurants. “There are only two more days!” he reminded me, and I knew someone else had found a calling.

Election '08: Showtime in Ohio

The energetic young men and women who organized VoteToday Ohio want to impart some crucial training before their crew of 60-some volunteers hits the campuses, neighborhoods, job counseling centers and other places where likely voters may be found. First there are celebrity introductions to be made. Our numbers include people from many parts of the country and as far off as England, we are told. There is even a honeymooning couple, Vic and Yoni, who have been helping to save the redwoods in California and now are wrapping up their wedding trip by registering voters in Ohio. Vic and Yoni are adorable and we all applaud loudly.

The next volunteer to be introduced is Michael Guston. He is a character actor - L.A. Law, ER, The Practice - and he looks familiar in the way that character actors often do. “Everyone thinks they went to high school with me,” he says. But in fact I also look familiar to him, and it turns out that we have been New York City neighbors for many years. He recently moved to upstate New York near the Pennsylvania border and now spends many hours a week canvassing Pennsylvania voters. Guston plays General Tommy Franks in W., Oliver Stone's new movie about the President, which will open at the end of this month. There is sustained applause for him as well.

Finally the organizers present a tiny, elderly woman sitting in the back row. I don't catch her name, but when she stands, the crowd goes wild with clapping and cheering. She is Howard Dean's mother, and in this group there could be no greater claim to fame. She has come to Ohio with friends to register voters during “Golden Week,” a small window in early October during which it is possible to simultaneously register to vote and cast your ballot.

The training session proceeds in a very organized fashion, as the organizers describe what they want to accomplish, and how we should go about it. Politely, for one thing -- we are not to pester people to sign up. The sole note of discord is when the vehicles in which we are hoping to transport voters to the polls are referred to as “vans.” The consensus is that we should call them shuttles instead, as “vans” sounds slightly sinister.

Just as we resolve this weighty matter, a staff member comes in with an announcement: “Good News!” she tells us. “The Ohio Supreme Court just upheld the challenge to the early voting window.” Since we had no idea that the policy was even under appeal we were not as relieved as the organizers - who had wisely decided not to share with us that the entire program was in jeopardy.

Tomorrow is showtime, and we're ready to rumble. Politely, of course.