When the orange autocrat was elected, I vowed to counter that negativity, joined the Women’s March, volunteered to tutor Afghan English learners. Covid ended tutoring for me. I also volunteered for the Dems, which I’ve continued. It’s easy to do.
Go to your precinct caucus at your neighborhood school—for me, across the street—and you’ll find the party faithful and chances to volunteer. At the precinct 816 table—which we now are since redistricting—five souls turned out. I was jazzed, because besides the old timers Cathy and myself, the other three were young, enthusiastic, and on a mission to get progressive candidates on the ballot.
State Rep. Leslie Herod
The low turnout was predictable for a mid-term with few races in contention. The 816 was entitled to five delegates to the County Assembly. Everyone in favor, say aye. Done. We were all delegates. We also gave input on the proposed party platform, added to several planks. (Democrat platforms are made of sustainably sourced wood. Their numerous planks are quite long.) Under the Criminal Justice plank, for example, we added expansion of the STAR program, those mental health professionals within the police department whose calls have resulted in many getting needed help and not a single arrest.
The Denver County Assembly was in person, at GW High School, a few weeks later. Once you’ve got your delegate credential around your neck, candidates offer you coffee and bagels and campaign literature and ask for your vote. At lunch they offer you tamales, chocolate candies, campaign literature and ask for your vote. A former student of mine was there to campaign for a candidate. Again, I was thrilled. Younger generations are stepping up.
First, there’s the pep rally. Dem assemblies begin with rousing speeches, music, appearances by our stars: the gov, senators and congresspeople. “Hello, Denver Democrats! Are we ready?” Shouts, ovations, stamping of feet. (They don’t call it a pep rally. They call it a general assembly or some other boring misnomer. I call it a pep rally.) Business is conducted there: we vote to put people on the primary ballot—or not. We vote to approve the revised party platform. We cheer for saving democracy. Then we break into our congressional district meetings. At mine, Representative Leslie Herod talked about what’s happening at the State Capitol. She’s awesome. We love her.
People more astute than I am do the math about the percentage of the vote candidates got in the pep rally determining the number of delegates they get for the Congressional and State Assemblies in April. I became a delegate for both, this time dedicated to a candidate for national office. Delegate openings sometimes outnumber those who show up. Want to be one? You’re in.
Both Congressional and State assemblies were on Zoom. I could wear a decent shirt and earrings and not worry about the rest of me. I could turn off my video, go to the bathroom, do a few stretches. The chat was also fun. Nominators were making speeches and people in the chat were like, “Hooray, Diana DeGette!” or “I heard the Repubs don’t even have a platform.” At Congressional, there was brief confusion about ballot procedure and someone chatted, “This is the Democratic Party I know and love.” Someone else repeated the tried and true Will Rogers quote: “I’m not a member of any organized political party: I’m a Democrat.” In my experience, no gathering of Dems is official until someone has cited Will Rogers. Dems are proud of their freewheeling sense of order.
State was easier, being a webinar, wherein only the presenters have video and audio and the rest of us can wander in and out of the room at will, raise those little yellow icon hands if we have questions and read the chat. The meeting was 10 to 1 and being virtual, provided no snacks. Morgan Carroll, Chair of the Colorado Dems, runs efficient meetings, explains things clearly and concisely. Ms. Carroll was explaining about proxy votes and in the chat someone said, “proxies go well with lamb.” “I’m hungry too,” someone else responded. “When’s lunch?” The four-candidate race for CU Regent was exciting. All four were viable, qualified. Two passed the 30% threshold to get on the primary ballot. Another, who qualified via the petition route, will join them.
For now, my phone has quieted and the mail produces few flyers. When you’re a delegate, in the weeks before the assemblies, you get personal attention from candidates in races like this year’s CU Regent competition. I had actual conversations with three of the four, heard from numerous of their supporters. By the time we voted I was able to make an informed decision. Click this link, ballot pops up, vote, get a confirmation email five seconds later. While we were voting, someone in the chat said, “The Repubs are demanding watermark paper ballots at their assembly right now.”
Good for you, Pat! As for Repubs’ watermark paper ballots…probably not even compostable.
Ha! Bob, I learned later that their organizers explained counting paper ballots would take them past midnight and the doubters relented. But the issue was a mess of their own making. Now Repubs don’t even trust their own voting system.
hahahahahaha
Hmmm…a that’s funny laugh? A sarcastic laugh? Who can tell?
You inspire me, Pat!
I’m blessed to have you here, Denise!
This is what democracy looks like! Thank you, Pat, for serving and writing.