The globe-changing US election of 2024 - Samela for Kamala
Adelaide
October 4, 2024.
Merry arrives for sleepover to transition Dexter, the cat, in whose territorial interest in suitcases has forced packing to be a surreptitious business.
We three, Sa and Bruce with granddaughter Ruby are off to the USA to throw their weight into Kamala Harris’s run for the presidency.
Sa has previous experience on the Democrat campaign trail wit Hillary and her quest for nomination in the presidential primaries of 2016. Therein she met Debora Pignatelli one of the most influential andf leading Democrats of New England, several times elected to a position on the NH Executive Council. A friendship evolved and endured the years resulting in Sa contacting Debora and souding out how useful we may or may not be to the cause. Debora said she was sure the camaign could use us one way or another.
And so it came to pass that we put a plan into action under the catchy title of Samela for Kamala.
Two Aussie Harrises out in support of the American Harris.
Bruce taking the role of general manager, sponsor and chauffeur. Of course we needed parental permission for 16-year-old Ruby. Her father was keen for her to have the experience. Her mother had rational reservations about the gun-happy environment of the USA . I can’t say I didn’t share them but New Hampshire, where we would be based, is generally seen as a safeish place.
We planned a 6-week absence, the time in NH book ended by recovery nights en route in Hawaii.
Then we are off to Sydney in Qantas for our connecting flight with Hawaiian to Honolulu. Ru is not a happy flyer. Planes make her sick. Ru refuses in-flight sustenance. Ru curls up in her sofa seat with her devices Sa watches movies and eats and drinks everything in sight.
The driver covers us in leis but screws up on the address and dumps us next door at the Sheridan so we have some footwork to find our way and get our luggage together to check in to the Royal Hawaiian.
Ru is feeling headachey ill and we have to kill time and wait for our room. But not for too long. They kindly bring it forward. Ru has spent the waiting time in the loo being sick. Sa and B are worried. Ru and Rosie lost a lot of their time in Hawaii with sickness on our last visit.
After a freshen up, Ru is feeling well enough for a wander.
It is lush and gorgeous.
Aaaah...
We take it easy. Good old American iced tea is Ru’s magic pick-me-up.
We drift to the Sunset Bar where we have Mai Tais and mocktails under the pink umbrellas by the beach..and then burgers and a strikine Hawaiian sunset, of course.
7th October, 2024
Dateline Honolulu
We three make it down for a proper hotel breakfast. B’s favourite thing.
Ru and Sa adopt tropical vacation mode and find sunshaded lounges by the pool. It is a silly little pool at the RH and the sun lounges are always claimed really early. But the people watching is excellent. International affluenza. Privileged people.
Sa takes a dip.
Nontheless, the USA also is consumer heaven. More ABC stores. We ‘luv ‘em. We’re staying in the middle of everything. We discover a fantastic basement Asian noodle food market.
Short cut home is the surfboard alley where the locals store their boards like a gallery.
Back to the Sunset Bar. Mai Tai. Hawaiian troubador. Aaah. Glorious setting sun.
8th October
Car booked for the airport.
Hawaiian Airlines has what one canonly all a crap VIP lounge - when eventually we find it. And then sign outside says it is full. Whaaat?
We sit about bleakly outside waiting, waiting and then B goes in to query.
Immediately, we are invited in and allocated a table.
It is a crude lounge with very basic refreshments. Not particularly comfortable.
We settle in our spot and snack on bits of cucumber, albeit B always seems to find a meal in these antipasto snack arrangements.
Fortunately, Sa and Ru are in adjacent seats in this flight. Ru snacks lightly and then refuses food service and curls up with her iPhone. Sa watches over her and watches movies and eats whatever comes her way. Unimpressive fare. Hawaiian business class is a bit on the economy side. B is across the other side of the cabin but he makes visits.
Eventually, another 11 hours later, we land in dawn Boston where baggage is delayed.
Ru’s spirits perk right up at the sight of her first Dunkin’ Donuts…which now are called Dunkin. Sa gets coffees and a Cruller and Ru gets iced tea and a oson and we take lots of pix…still waiting for the luggage.
Eventually we make our way to the exit and the car hire, with Ru’s impeccable navigational guidance. And we wait some more while a hire car is assigned. It’s a silver Nissan Rogue with the licence plate 4Har15… "For Harris”! Geddit? Yay.
And we head off through the hectic Boston morning traffic to find ouur way to Nashua New Hampshire, our old stamping ground. B pointing out landmarks to Ru. This is proper USA.
We have to wait to afternoon to check in to our Merrimack apartment. Sa makes phone calls and they bring the time forward. Thank dog.
Oh, look, a Halloween popup megastore! Only in America. We dive in, boggle at everything, and buy ghoulish things to send home for sister Rosie.
Finally, to Merrimack and the apartment which is to be our home for the next five weeks.
Ru gets the Queen room which has a fancy diagonal double door
But, we are all to be very comfy there because the beds and linen are stunning. Stunning. Good sleeps ensue at Merrimack.
And in the kitchen/dining/living room, many meals cooked by Bruce.
There is a terrible smell, however. Old tobacco. Ugh. Really hard core and absorbed. There will be a battle with this smell and by the time we leave, we have it beaten, with some help from the maintenace people.
But first up, exhausted little party unpacks and sprays (Sazi always travels with scent sprays) and sort out the logistics. Within a couple of hours, Ru’s TV which won't stream is replaced by a fabulous new telly and it is clear the Residences at Daniel Webster management is efficient and keen to help.
NH Day 1. 9th October
We drive into Nashua and park behind the City Hall, making sure to salute John F Kennedy who is honoured with a statue out the front. He began his presidential campaign in Nashua. This fact has become a running gag over the years.
Surprisingly, voting was not straightforward.
B had to go to several different windows and take his postal vote outt of its envelope.
There was some nonsense about accepting it and the clerk
I became just a bit tense. They had to check. This was not usual procedure.
But, eventually, the vote was in.
The city hall was a bit zany. It had Halloween nonsense all over the place.
“Enter if you dare” was brandished in fake blood on one inquiry window.
Fired up with our political mission, we head down the main street in search of the Nashia Democrats Volunteer HQ. Sa remembered a shopfront location from previous years but there is none for Harris/Walz 2024.
We drive to that remembered side street and then various others. Checking Google….
B thinks he knows…so we park and walk down towards the Nashua River bridge and to the disused Nashua Telegraph newspaper office where, indeed, there is a little handwritten sign directing “downstairs”.
It is a bit of a long way downstairs, Down long blank
We are down just above water level. Flyers stuck on doorways are puzzling. They seem very regional. Not much emphasis on Harris.
And there is a keen young man to whom we introduce ourselves. Debora had said she had told the local Dems we were coming and we expected that they knew who we were. But not this lot. Very surprised was …. From Australia? Wow. And he took us into a room where four or five people were at tables bundling brochures…
Still asking how and why we were there. Sa explaing earlier connections with NH Dems and the Hillary campaign…Oh, but she should never have mentioned that she was a retired journalist. It was like an electric shock to the young organiser.
And we were ushered into a tiny, bare-walled empty room with a window onto the river. It looked and felt like the Letters Editor room, Sa said. This was, after all, an old newspaper building.
It feels very strange indeed. We are parked in there. As if we have to be interrogated. Suspects. Sa tries to explain the journalistic aspect of the mission. We planned to blog. We had been led to belileve by Deborah that others also would be blogging on the campaign trail. It seemed collegiate. There also was a photo artist visiting the southern states doing a photo essay of the campaign and Sa would marry some words from the north. The Dem fellow seemed nonplussed and even more suspicious, We had to wait for HQ to come down from Manchester. About half an hour. Stay put. We do, Ru furious with Sa for mentioning the word “journalist” at all. Eventually, X returns wth Manchester on the phone and Sa explains our story.
We are just nonplussed. "No interviews" edict is reiterated and a lot of bumf about what events we could or could not attend. Press barred from this and that. Since Sa is not working as a reporter, but as a reiree volunteer, it is all very silly and frustrating. Being a journalist does not make one “press”. And why the suspicion? What on earth might be so secret and confidential? Oooh. And we may not to work in the office with the volunteers.
Tired of the whole to-do, we agree to whatever. We may “phone bank” from our apartment. Perhaps we preferred not to doorknock. Americans keep guns in their houses. We’re Australians. We don’t like that sort of thing. Guns are illegal where we come from. Yeah. We told ‘em. If they are afraid of us, we have good reason to be afraid of them.
We cheer ourselves up by introducing Ruby to "real" American diner food.
Debora rings a while later. She had wind of some sort of kerfuffle at volunteer HQ. Sa says not to worry. We are going to be an offsite phone bank, spending a couple of hours a day phone banking and then doing our own thing. It really suits us quite well.
And so it comes to pass that we do lots of elective things. And Ruby gets to know our beloved old stamping ground not to mention Sazi’s favourite shops.
Our plans to do things with Debora, distinguished Executive Councillor, fall foul of her catching a debilitating flu from her grandaughter. A couple of years of Lung cancer treatments have made her vulnerable.
Our phone lists are huge and a bit fascinating.
We take a day trip there, visited the working mill to give Ru an idea of how young girls worked in the 19th century….and to visit Kerouac Park which has the be the finest memorial park to a poet in the world. Huge granite plinths with his words inscibed upon them.
For a spot of complete cultural madness, and at Ru’s request we lunch at an Outback Steakhouse in Lowell….Australiana of an unrecognisable Americana kind.
We sustain a steady discipline of phone banking - ringing up so many pages of the lists a day. It is tedious and oddly intimidating. They are supposed to be Democrat names but people move house a lot in the States and some domestic phones had been inherited by Republicans. Sa had a long conversation with one of them and found him a very reasonable and well-mannered fellow. If only all Trumpers were like him. He belonged to the belief that Trump had business skills and he had a lot of fairly well reasoned criticisms of the Dems.
We establish a lovely relationship with that office staff and also the maintenance men since there are quite a few issues with our first floor apartment - that lingering smell, broken aircon, ceiling flood from above...
Oh, and there is the upstairs woman always behind her curtain at the window watching the car park. She reports B to the police for parking in one of the rather hard-to-identify Disabled spots. This brings police to the carpark and fairly hilarious scenes. They bring TWO patrol cars. And hang around for ages. At 3 am, jet-lagged Ru looks thru her curtains and sees the police back in the parking lot again. As if B was likely to be moving the car back into a disabled spot in the middle of the night. This provides us with much ongoing hilarity.
But, we are not unhappy. They gave us a very good price. The laundry is diagonally across the hall. The neighbors are nice, albeit there are a lot, a lot, a lot of dogs. And the scent of dope smoked outside by the old vets does not offend us one bit. Oh, my, there is a lot of dope smoking these days.
And, New Hampshire is gorgeous, aflame in Fall colours.
Oh, the prettiness of the hues reflected in the waters of the Nashua River.
No wonder people come from all over the States to see this autumnal spectacle.
"Leaf peepers", they call them.
New Hampshire "colours" are quite the tourist attraction and we are charmed to bits to find ourselves in the glorious midst of it all.
We drive a lot, showing Ruby favourite places such as Hampton Beach where she samples fried dough and Portsmouth where we visit Strawberry Bank which is kept as a living historic museum with old shops and actors in period costume playing the parts of the original inhabitants.
We drive to Vermont to visit friends and en passant to see one of the world's greatest pumpkin festivals in Keene and down to Mass to visit Yale and shop in Boston... and to Maine to buy lobster ...
By the time we return to Oz, Ruby has been in seven states - Massachussetts, Connecticut, Maine, Vermont, New York and New Hampshire. Not forgetting Hawaii.
But the election is ever-present. The prevalence of election posters is fascinating. And Halloween. Pumpkins and spiderwebs adorn houses alongside poliical signage. In one case, in the famous witch town of Salem, Mass, they are combined - Harris/Walz in the middle of a giant skeleton.
People display their political choices on their lawns and fences and windows and all along the intersections - a colour juggle of opposing politics.
Trump signs are always biggest and boldest. There are a lot of Trump stickers on cars, too. The election pervades the landscape. And we are an active part of it all.
Sa does her phone calling from the apartment dining table while Ru prefers to do it all from a kneeling position beside her bed. Either way, we plough through and mark off masses of numbers and, by the time we are through, we are experts in the world of answering machines, forwarding technology and auto diversions. The fact that we ring from unidentified numbers didn't help.
Among those who pick up, few are willing to answer all the questions the phone banking sheets request. They seek to establish not only immediate voting intentions but degrees of commitment and if the subjects would vote down the line for the state as well as federal candidates. This is a bit much for most who will indicate their party preference but leave it at that. One or two said it was none of our business. One questions Sa's identity snapping :"You don't sound American."
The NH Democrat newsletter feed our Inboxes every day with what campaign events are happening where and when in the state. Manchester is the main city but the events there are “no Press” and we don’t bother. There are enough open events.
One is in a town called Exeter, about an hour from Merrimack. It features Joyce Craig
The event at the Exeter volunteer office features an old TV star, a famlous Dem and actors' unionist who does some revving up of the troops and launches the latest tranche of canvassing.
The push is on all around us for canvassers and, while we have declined in Nashua, we feel strongly compelled in Exeter. The difference is the very nature of the volunteers. Here they are mature, many of them retired, highly educated, welcoming and persuasive. They feel more like "our" people, so we sit down for a formal briefing, download the canvassing app with our doorknock allocation and head off to do the deed, loaded down with pamphlets and brochures.
But not before we've discovered their Dunkin hospitality.
Rule: You can’t leave voting material in the letterbox. If the person is not home, one may only hang the hanging brochure on the doorknob.
We are allocated a set of addresses in an old part of the town. It’s a very old town. Established in the 1600s. It brags a respected college…Phillips Exeter. The main street is very heritage and handsome.
But not where we are assigned. It is working class.
B and Sa struggle in deciphering the App. We are unused to doing such things on the phone. And, here we are. This is it. The reality of American political canvassing.
We are among big, old, white clapboard buildings….square and several storeys. Sa had no idea these fairy ubiquitous old buildings contained lots of apartments. Up substantial porch stairs to big storm doors. Haul open the storm door and the the front door.
Some of tenants are on our doorknock list. Some are not. Knock this one. Not that one. There are Trumpers.
It feels odd and very uncomfortable and intrusive, actually. And puzzling. Luckily (or not) very few people are at home. We meet some outside and have amicable exchanges. Ru is dealing with a headache and spends part of this doorknock resting in the car.
A mob of Trumpers are doing their thing noisily close at hand. They are spread out on a bridge waving Trump banners at the passing cars. There is a lot of tooting and one is not sure if it is for or against Trump.
When Ru comes out and joins us on the doorknock, we perk up. She has that effect. She has a "Let’s get into it and get it done" spirit. And the App does not confuse her at all.
Back to Merrimack, the phones, shopping, Bruce-cooked meals at home and our new routines.
Not to mention a bit of tourism for Ru's benefit.
A big priority is a quick drive to New York City.
We cannot bring a 16-year-old to the US East Coast without giving her the experience of the Big Apple.
She has a lot of TikTok info and, given the choice of any show on Broadway, she plumps enthusiastically for Romeo & Juliet, the new musical performed in the round.
En route, B takes her on a tour of his old alma mata, Yale University and we dine in The Commons amid the students. Fantastic handsome and historic dining hall with a diverse international cuisine served at different queuing points. We opt for Asian and it is delicious.
The drive into NYC itself is what one might expect. Jammed. Double parkers on already choked streets. B cleverly navigates these narrow, crowded streets to get us to the Times Square Sheraton
NYC reeks of dope. The streets are just clouds of dope. Even the hotel foyer has a whiff. One can get stoned simply being in BYC these days. Who would a thunk it?
We take a wander to chaotic old Times Square and buy some election kitsch from the souvenir rip off joints. Kamala and Trump bottle openers. Gross.
Ruby helps us to find a lovely NY bar called Names and Faces for dinner, easy walking distance from the hotel. We sit at high stools looking out the window at all the huge black 4WDs which seem to rule
Next morning, too early for Ru, B and S find a fabulous NY deli for a fabulous breakfast.
Then, with Ru in the lead, we do the teen/TikTok zeitgeist tour of the city - first the Met and lovely morning tea in its shmick cafe.
Ru revels in the quirky originality of all the contemporary art quizzical foibles of Andy Warhol.
With a a nudge from Bruce we hit the famous old mega toy store FAO Schwartz which is another sort of creaive wonderland. We get special teddies made called Ruby and Rosie.
Ruby poses, incredulous, in a giant Barbie Dolls box.
Then across town past a never-ending array of Halloween displays, to a vintage toy store called The March Hare where Ru engages in TikTok talk with the lovely Jewish Democrat proprietor.
Walking walking to Magnolia bakery where the queues indicate its cult popularity. We join the queue and end up in the street swooning at its famous banana dessert.
In the evening, a pre-theatre repast at Names and Faces and off to the theatre which is packed with an audience of Ru's demographic - bright young people. Full house. Only one other audience member as old as us. The show is sensational. High tech, vivid, fun with its two super stars de jour,
En route home, we visit Mystic, Connecticut, where we have pizza at the original Mystic Pizza restaurant.
It's a long drive on those arterial highways but B is at home on them and our 4HAR15 Nissan Rogue hums along with all its bells and whistles.
It is the town of Hollis which turned on the prettiest and perhaps nostalgia powerful political event of our six weeks.
Brilliant, vivid pumpkins and autumn colours.
So, not surprising amid the fields and farms and autumn trees, our political event is held at a big old farm barn.
It is a by-invitation bash. With very very significant speakers. Maggie Goodlander, House of Reps…Fedeeral….a woman in the house….Hakiim Jeffries has been hotly tipped to be the next Nancy Pelosi, speaker of the House. This is a heavy weight national lineup as well as featuring the locals on the “vote down the list” lineup.
Seeing a police presence, Ru becomes anxious.
But it is standard procedure at such events. This is not Sa’s first time at the rodeo, so to speak. Mind you, Trumpers are something else….so wariness is not out of line.
And, there are to be many rousing speeches.
Oh, yes. This is what these campaign rallies are all about.
And along come the candidates who are set to speak from a makeshift dais backgrounded by a row of huge waving US flags. As they tout their policies and the hopes we all share for a Kamala future, a soft breeze brings the surrounding country woodland autumn leaves fluttering down upon us, It is absurdly pretty.
At the same time, there is of course that edge of danger. Everyone is on guard.
We have heard all the messages before, of course. And are going to hear them again. The importance of democracy, democracy, democracy!!!
America's need for accessible health care. Lowering prescription drug costs, especially insulin. Women's need for control over their own bodies. The overturning of Roe v Wade. Cost of living. Cannabis legalisation. Demilitarising police departments. Climate change and its impact, especially on the poor and people of colour. Business. Raising the minimum wage. Gun control. LGBTQ rights. Term limits on the Supreme Court....The need to keep Trump out of the White House.
This is us here and now. We need all our energy to achieving representation...and this means getting people out to vote.
Jeffries, being the most important Democrat of the times, of course has a security detail watching us and him and everything.
Jeffies is black and his security men also are black. Big beautiful black men, exquisitely dressed in tailored suits with the most fabulous ties you ever saw. Yes, their guns are doubtless holstered under the suits. But they really dress the occasion.
OMG, look at all those pumpkins!
We do major bliss shopping in that place and it is very hard to leave.
The next major event we attend on the NH volunteer calendar is right in Nashua, our old home town. It is in the High school gym where a roll call of yet more important Democrats whoe are scheduled to speak here - among them, former president, Bill Clinton.
But first, Halloween comes and goes.
Front office at the apartments has a big bowl of candy and some of the apartment entrances and windows are bedecked in Halloween adornments. But, warn the staff, there has never been trick or treating in the Daniel Webster Residences. Not enough children, you know. Mostly older people, you know.
Nonetheless, we drape our door with Halloween tinsel and pop down a couple of miniature pumpkins. We adopt symbolic garments. Ru paints Hello Kitty whiskers on her cheeks. Just in case. But no one knocks. Sigh. You need to be in the 'burbs.
There is plenty to do between campaign events, not the least of them manning the phones and working through our Phone Bank lists. We allocate a few hours each day. It is pretty tedious. More diverted numbers than answering humans. A couple of people complain that they have had quite a few calls from the Democrats already, you know. Hmm.
Meanwhile, we have a lovely visit from B's old Yale roommate and best friend, Jim Conroy and wife Irene. They drove up from Philly and stayed in the motel right next door to our apartment. We have outings and adventures in Massachussets with them. The old Cotton Mill in Lowell is an educational highlight for us all.
We explore the fabulous Merrimack Outlet Mall, shop ourselves silly in Nashua at Pheasant Lane Mall and at Marshalls and the Coat Factory, eat lots of Mexican at Shorty's, cook cookie dough cookies, compare supermarkets and settle into a steady little homelife in our apartment. We even start using the gym.
We're almost locals.
The last event on our campaign calendar is a ripper.
Right here in Nashua.
This event is big deal. Bill Clinton!
The school lawns are just a vast sea of blue Harris/Walz signs.
There is surprisingly little evidence of security, although we know all former presidents have a significant detail.
There's a lot of comvivial queuing. he gym is set up with a large stage but people are geneerally expected to stand. Very few are allowed up on the balcony, though.
The insatiable appetite for political speeches in NH is evidenced by the number of them. Bill's speech followed a long stream of others.
On every such occasion, the volunteers try to round up more volunteers.
They call on more people for phone banking and canvassing.
"Yes, we are already committed," we say.
They phone a lot to confirm this.
So we confirm several times that we are fulfilling our next round of doorknocking in Exeter.
And so we do.
November 2.
On this occasion Dem volunteers HQ allocates us a semi-rural residential area….woodland settings with houses down long drives, some not so visible from the road.
It is a bit scary. We have seen too many movies.
We luck out a number of times finding people at out work in their yards. They are raking and barrowing and dealing with their autumn leaves, of course.
And we find it so much easier easier talking to people in that context rather than waiting for someone to opem their door.
The people are fairly agreeable and most already have plans for polling day or have already voted.
Ru is really brave. She has a thread of steel - and good instincts. She fronts doorsteps with fiesty determination.
Even some really oddball ones.
We report back to the campaign office which, oddly, is now rather tense with the AfricanAmerican supervisor calling Sa out aggressively when she asks if she may take a farewell souvenir photo of or with some of her fellow volunteers for her intended presentation at the Lyceum Club back in Australia.
We grab Dunkin coffees and, speechless, head for home where our own maple tree is doing its flaming thing, Aaaah.
When election day approaches, we become popular at both towns.
The volunteer organisers still want people out there doorknocking. There's a sense of desparation. Every vote counts. Just one more. Let's make sure that voters can get to the polls.
We didn’t agree to eleventh-hour door-knocking. But Ru and Sa do agree to making a final hit on the phone lines. Ironically, those ho answered were all set to vote or had already done so.
Fingers crossed.
Then, election day comes.
We have no words.
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