Now that one of the biggest elections in American history is over, it’s time to look back at what just happened. This is probably where you expect me to go into a long analysis of the failures and triumphs of each presidential campaign, but alas, being a bigheaded and self-centered news magazine editor, I will choose rather to speak of experiences I’ve enjoyed and, at times, endured, over the last several months.

My true campaign season started this year in June, with John McCarthy’s for State Senate. For those of us unfamiliar with him, Mr. McCarthy is a retired Woodbury resident who spent his career as Ambassador in Tunisia and Lebanon under three presidents.  He also held a Director’s position on the State Department’s Office of Investment. Mr. McCarthy’s uphill (and to an extent, impossible) campaign was run against Rob Kane, Watertown’s token cell phone guy.

 Mr. McCarthy and I began walking door-to-door all over the district; from Southbury to Oxford, Woodbury to Bethlehem. As we walked, my role consisted of being Mr. McCarthy’s “political caddy,” someone who would take notes on his conversations with voters and determine whether the constituent was friendly, unfriendly, or, as in most cases, just didn’t care. During these walks, I would learn a lot not just about Mr. McCarthy, but also about door-to-door campaigning in general.

I found it very important to observe the voters’ emotions upon engaging in conversation. If they seemed busy, we’d be best off just saying “Hello” and retreating. When they appeared relaxed, it was usually beneficial to give them our spiel and ask about their concerns. Also, I learned to pay careful attention to things around voters’ houses. For example, I noticed a license plate with a tree on it at one woman’s house. A split second before she opened the door, I advised Mr. McCarthy to mention his green environmental plan. That he did, and the woman was nothing short of ecstatic in her support.

Overall, door-to-door was lots of fun. Though apathy was a common characteristic for people to have, nearly everyone was kind and polite.

There was one woman, though, who was not:

*Lady sees us at the door*
Woman: I’m not interested.
McCarthy: We’re not asking for any money, I just wanted to talk to you about my campaign for State Senate.
Woman: You don’t get it. I’m not interested in what you have to say.
McCarthy: So you don’t vote?
Woman: I do vote.
McCarthy: Then how do you decide whom to vote for?
Woman: That’s none of your business, now is it?
McCarthy: Well, I guess I can’t argue with that.
Woman: No, you can’t.

*Slams door in our faces*

I look down at my voters’ list to find that she was a liar; she had voted in none of the past seven elections.

Regardless of this isolated instance, people were generally very nice, and some even agreed to take bumper stickers. We met some happy people, and some people that depressed us (we won their votes, though!), but being Mr. McCarthy’s side-kick was an experience that would prove very helpful later in the campaign season.

As the year progressed, I started to do a bit more work in headquarters (which is a lovely place, full of free food and lawn signs). This work consisted mainly of phone banking, which is, in all honesty, painful, tedious work that is not meant for the heart of man. Basically, you are given a list of tons of voters all over the region, half of who aren’t home and would hang up on you even if they were. Sitting at a desk for hours at a time, I would leave hundreds of messages on the machines of people out enjoying their lives; be they on a beach playing volleyball or enjoying a birthday with their happy family. Wherever they were, they weren’t phone banking.

Missing working out in the field, I then went to work for Chris Murphy’s Congress campaign. Rallying the Young Democrats, I set up a couple dates for canvassing. This time, I would be nobody’s political caddy; I would be out there on my own. My buddies Sam, Krista and I set out into the wild jungles of Woodbury walking door-to-door for votes. Sam is a photographer, and at the time was working on a photojournalist project about young people in politics. Thus, he took lots of pictures of me. I mean lots! When we met up after every three houses, I wouldn’t be allowed to look at him; he was taking pictures. Several times, he would ask me to knock on a door again; “that shot was just too good.” Luckily for me (and for Chris Murphy), he stopped as soon as people showed up. There was really no need to creep anybody out.

Miraculously, I proved to be very good at door-to-door on my own. People paid attention to me more so than they did Mr. McCarthy, be it because I was young or because I appeared to have more energy. Every time Krista and Sam had a Republican on their lists, they sent me to face him or her. Much to their astonishment, Republicans are not the root of all evil.

My fondest memory is meeting a voter who was conversing with a very elderly woman in the kitchen behind her doorway.

The voter and I started chatting about Chris Murphy and Washington politics when the elderly lady abruptly interrupted asking “Who was that taking pictures?!” I explained to her that it was my friend Sam, who was taking some pictures of me for a school project. The woman gave me a suspicious look and begrudgingly turned back to her sandwich. As our conversation closed, the voter asked my name again. “Seth,” I replied. “Seth,” she said mystically, “you have truth in your eyes.”

After that, I worked with Ryan Jones and my church friend Mr. Erickson on the McCarthy campaign. Together, we set up tables at Shaws and the Southbury Food Center and solicited the votes of people doing their shopping. This proved to be relatively painless work; we would hand them the literature and ask them if they’d heard of Mr. McCarthy. Usually, they would say “No” and continue walking, but occasionally we’d get to go through the whole pitch. Overall, despite some overly hostile grocery store workers, our operations went quite well; I wouldn’t be surprised if we won a hundred votes right then and there.

As my campaign season came to a close, I decided to get the Young Democrats out for one last event: Election Day visibility. November 4^th, we all gathered around Sacred Heart Church for an afternoon of barraging people with propaganda on their way to the polls. (For those of you curious; no, we were not the folks that Father Donnelly famously complained about.) Upon my arrival, I found that my friend Chris was already there, along with two other Murphy volunteers. I also found a group of five Republicans. As my team came in, we easily outnumbered our conservative counterparts 2 to 1, a margin that grew. Though everything was friendly between the groups (I had a good time talking with Greg DeWitt as we took in big whiffs of the cow manure being spread on the farm across the street), that didn’t stop us from playing a little on the battlefield. I quickly called headquarters for fifteen more signs, just enough so that the roadside was littered with them and every one of the twelve Young Democrats there was armed with a poster. Then it was time for reorganization of the troops. I sent a couple of our folks across the street to catch traffic on the other side of the road, while a few more were sent to the other entrance. The Republicans were surrounded, and left within two hours of our arrival. Victory was ours.

That evening, I went to the Election party at headquarters. Overall, I was a happy camper; excited to see the results and happy that this long election was over. As expected, my man Mr. McCarthy lost by a fair margin to the cell phone guy. However, all was well after Murphy walloped his opponent for reelection and Barack Obama became the first African-American president in our nation’s history.

Looking back on it, I learned a lot this year. I learned how to converse with people efficiently, how to organize and motivate people, and to avoid loose dogs like the plague when walking door-to-door. With such newfound knowledge, I now see myself as far more successful in the future: I can sense a loose dog from three football fields away; my chances of getting rabies are that much smaller.