Calling People You Know:
Kevyn Malloy’s First Experience Deep Canvassing

I’ve known my friend Lee since we were college roommates in the early ‘60’s. At the time, she and I had only one political conversation that I recall: near the start of the Vietnam War, we talked about whether we ought to do our patriotic duty and join the Navy. Neither of us enlisted.

Since college, Lee and I don’t see each other often, though we live only 30 miles apart. Still, we have stayed in touch, and the two of us and four other women get together at least once a year for a Christmas dinner. I am also the godmother of Lee’s oldest daughter. 

So last week, when I was in the deep canvass training and was asked to think about people I know who might miss elections, it hit me: I had no idea if Lee voted or not. 

That’s partially because I, personally, didn’t focus much on politics until after college. I married at 21, quickly had Irish triplets (three kids in three years) — and when I would finally get them down for a nap, if I had a minute, I started watching the news. That got me more interested.

My then-husband was a Republican, but I had figured out I was a Democrat. I’ll never forget the time he and I went to vote together and the Equal Rights Amendment (ERA) was on the ballot in New Jersey, where we lived at the time. As we came out of the polling place, I asked him how it felt to vote to support women’s rights. But he hadn’t voted the way I thought! That’s when politics became more personal to me.

So back to calling Lee:

I dialed —  and a very excited voice squealed, “Is that really you?” I laughed, took a deep breath, and I was into my first deep canvassing conversation. 

When I asked her near the beginning to rate the probability that she would vote in the Presidential election from zero to ten, she gave it a six. When I asked why she chose that number, she said that she had been very discouraged about the state of our country for the last four years, and wasn’t sure her vote would really count for much.

I told her that, for me, voting is political, and it’s also personal. I told about my wonderful granddaughter Maddy, who I dearly love. Maddy and I had a phone conversation recently where I was touched because she felt comfortable confiding in me. That call caused me to admire Maddy even more than I already did, and to be grateful for how we loved each other.

Then I asked Lee to talk about someone she loves. And she told me about her grandson Bobby. 

I met Bobby when he was 6 years old. Now he is 20 and had been in college himself. But he recently left college to help his mom and dad, who had been financially devastated because of COVID. When both abruptly lost their jobs, Bobby decided to go back home. He took a job making deliveries for local restaurants so he could help his parents financially.

Lee told me that Bobby’s had mixed feelings about these changes in his life. He could admit to her that he was sometimes sad, missing college and his friends there, and working long hours. Mostly, though, he felt good that he could help out his parents now that they really needed it.

When Lee and Bobby were talking about all this, it brought up some big feelings for her, too. Bobby’s mom is Lee’s daughter; Lee has helped out as much as she can and wishes she had the money to help them out more. 

She’s really proud of Bobby. To her, he’s a hero.  

Near the end of the call, I again asked Lee to rate her expectation of voting in November and she laughed and said, “Well, now I have to give it a ten. Nothing will stop me.”  When I asked what had made her raise her number from six to ten, she said, “I now get it that if we want our grandchildren to have a chance for a good life, we have to get Trump out of office. I really want that, so I know I have to do my part and vote.”

Both of our voices were shaky with emotion as we said goodbye. When I hung up, I took a few minutes to pull myself together and smiled.  As I started to dial my next friend, I whispered, “OK Maddy, we can do this!”