The Apostrophe Blog
I am writing by hand now every day. Have been since the middle of August, my mad money spent on postcard stamps. Pick up the pen, find the message that goes on the card I am scrawling for a voter in a state that is not this one, and get to work. I have written to people in many Florida counties about checking on the status of their Vote By Mail—Leon, Manatee, Miami-Dade, Osceola, Pasco, Sumter to name a few. I have written for crucial Congressional races in Arizona, California, Michigan, Nebraska, New York, and Pennsylvania. I have written for Sherrod Brown and his Senate campaign in Ohio. I have even written for assorted state races (senator, rep, commissioner) in places like Florida, Michigan, New York, and North Carolina. I have sent cards to addresses in central New York where I used to live, to locations around the town in northern Ohio where I went to college fifty years ago, and to other places in other states I had never heard the names of before. I even did a major batch for get-out-the-vote efforts for Democrats in the Cincinnati region where a fascist hillbilly VP wannabe is allegedly from.
Is any of this doing any good other than giving business to the US Postal Service and a bunch of creatives peddling their voter postcard wares via Etsy? At this point, I don’t know and I realize I don’t much care. I know that I need to be doing something here in this non-swing-state of Oregon and my Palmer penmanship is one way I feel I can make a contribution. Will it make a difference? I am not sure that is the question I even need to be asking at this point in this slog to try to make this country bend the arc of justice back toward what is decent, compassionate, empathetic, and good. I just ordered more stamps; I am at the ready with my hundred+ box of blank cards, my drawer full of red and blue pens…
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