Tuesday Evenings
I don’t get the chance to do this as often as I’d like publicly, so here we go…
Tuesday evenings have changed my life. Not just the result, but the work that went into those Tuesday evenings; the knocked doors, the phone calls (so many phone calls) and the ever-present sense of uncertainty. Those twelve hours on those early November Tuesdays are a strange and peculiar institution to a select few; don’t get me wrong — I appreciate the process, but the way in which entire worlds come to a crashing halt at the doors of purgatory is not for the weak-hearted.
For those few, we understand the importance of those Tuesday evenings and we dedicate ourselves to all those other days like a chorus sung by Cherrelle Anne Norton. Even when we’re not directly involved, we volunteer when we’re available because its important — to not only be engaged but be involved. Its important because too many of the homies rely on us for their info and while we secretly despise being the go-to (google is a great friend), we accept it because apathy doesn’t help anyone.
While we may get discouraged with wrong addresses or marking RF in Mini-Van, it’s the OG’s that take the time to stop mowing the lawn to ask you p questions and weigh-in on the goings on leading up to those Tuesday evenings. The OG may be that single mom with two kids on the Northeastside who shakes your hand, offers you water and tells you to keep up the good work. The OG may also be that guy who could easily be your uncle who stops mowing the lawn and gives you the kind of common-sense approach to politics and government only a man who barbecues in leather sandals could adequately provide. Or maybe it’s the kids bro — maybe it’s the kid who looks at you inquisitively and responds to you by saying, “that’s dope fam, I’ve just never seen anyone with hair like me wearing a suit.”
We also get to build a sense of family with those who spend weeks, months, years working up to that Tuesday evening. We arbitrarily offer up the realization that we’re all crazy, but it’s somehow okay. We stay up nights, we fall asleep in suits and we gouge on food as soon as your candidates gets to dropping those gems you’ve heard so many times you can recite it from memory. Its thankless work at times, but it works and provides the kind of education no political science classroom can teach.
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On that Monday before, you see two speeches and begrudgingly nod your head, because it’s the honorable thing to do.
And then that Tuesday evening comes. And it goes how it goes. And if you’re from a certain side, in a certain state — those Tuesday’s have been tough. And while there are a number of those with their own passionate opinions, you stay out of it, purely out of respect for those who left it all on the field. While there may be some valid questions and takeaways, you never question the effort, because you know damn well what it takes. Everyone has a role to play, but as a point of personal privilege I just hope you chose one that makes things more productive.
While those Wednesday mornings are tough, its even tougher for your friends more directly involved. you reach out to them, thank them for their work, and you use phrases like, “let me know how I can be helpful,” and you really mean it, because that’s what this thing is all about. Because you remember one of those tough Wednesday mornings and the sense of loyalty you felt to those who were in the trenches with you. While not the same — you understand. And lend a hand whenever you can.
While its natural to be discouraged by the outcomes on one day, its important to remember the work leading up. It’s important that work continues — somehow, someway. Its important minority communities feel not only included and involved but valued — regardless of numbers. It’s important our urban brothers and sisters (no, I don’t just mean black people) understand the plight of our rural brother and sisters; what works in one place, may not work elsewhere, but we must look at this as an opportunity to educate each other. It’s important we realize we are the party of the big tent — the one that actively seeks to include everyone.
Its important those relationships remain because that pendulum is going to swing.
Trust.
Here’s to looking forward to Tuesday Evening’s in the future.
