Trump is making us feel sick

July 15, 2018

Yesterday P. and I visited the homes of perhaps a hundred voters in support of re-electing Sen. Jon Tester.  I always feel uneasy approaching the doors of strangers.  In the parts of Billings we visited, I’d say about half were Republican–and so far most of them have been polite when they turned us away.  I always wonder how they experienced the world. ‘Why can’t they all agree with me?’ I wondered.

We visited a high-rise, low-income, apartment building, “Prairie Towers,” after some mixed results at privately owned houses in the neighborhood.  We didn’t pick and choose whom to visit; we were using a list we got from the local Montana Democratic headquarters.

Prairie Towers has seven floors.  A “no solicitors” sign had been posted by the front door, so  I was ready to ask P. to skip the building; but we had many pages of voters to visit.  As we approached the door a man in front of us had pushed a button to summon a bearded fellow to let him in.  P. asked if we could enter to canvass voters.  The guy shrugged, so we rode the elevator to the top to work our way back down.

What contrast.  Without exception, well, maybe one, where a guy brushed us aside saying he doesn’t “do politics anymore,” the denizens were Democrats who occasionally were so excited to see us that they asked to “sign me up” to support Sen. Tester.  We didn’t have anyone sign anything, but we listened to them.  People seemed lonely and glad to have a visitor.  Did I mention it was nearly 100 degrees outdoors?  The air-conditioning in Prairie Towers was welcome.

One woman, who had recently lost her son and then her dog, said she would have become blind today but for the work of Tester and especially President Obama.  She was obviously grieving and she showed us photos and told us her tale of woe.

Another hollered at us through the door to hold on.  When she opened the door she explained she had to find her false teeth first.  Yes, she was a Democrat.  She said the current President made her feel sick at her stomach.  “What a beast,” she said, with a sad look on her face.  She didn’t stop with that, but It’s all I can remember.  Remarkably, she said she had no computer and had only recently gotten a TV.  A wicker basket hanging on the door was labeled “Gazette.”