Gone skiing

 We were coming out of tap dancing class.  It was sometime in the spring of 1977.

“Time for a coffee” I asked my friend Mimi.

‘Can’t”replied Mimi. “I promised to address some coffee party invitations in the Margaret Scrivener committee room.   I have to get going.  Come with me”! 

“Oh I have terrible handwriting “ thinking to myself, that addressing anything to be seen in public was probably not a good idea.

“Oh no worries” Mimi answered.  “The canvass will drop them by hand.”

It was all new vernacular to me:  committee room, coffee parties, canvas???

The only works I had understood in the whole discussion were  “Margaret Scrivener.”

I actually knew Margaret.  She was an old time friend from school days of my  father in law and our current Member of Provincial Parliament. (MPP)

But i had never been a member of a political party, nor ever worked on a campaign.  The thought had never crossed my mind.

“Ok” came my reply.  “Sounds interesting

‘Ahha” laughed Mimi.  “There is nothing very interesting about coffee party invitations.’

We arrived in a short time at the Margaret Scrivener Committee Room.  It appeared to be occupying an empty office space.  The windows were full Margaret Scrivener signs.

Mimi breezed in .. Mimi always entered a room breezing.  I trotted behind. 

There were a few desks at the front, all occupied by women talking on the phone. 

With a wave to them, Mimi went straight to the back of the room, and stopped at the long tables and chais where about a dozen women were busily writing away .

“Sit here” said mu friend.    I sat.

Instantly a woman appeared putting in front of us long list of names, which I was told was a voters lists, and a stack of cards.. the very coffee party invitations. 

“Mimi, we have to get polls 35 and 36 done quickly . We have a canvas going in there tonight” the taskmaster shared this news with Mimi.

The mystery deepened from my perspective. 

I took a quick peak at the other side of the card.

“Please join us to meet your candidate Margaret Scrivener at 99 Jones Street on Thursday at 10am.” 

“Ah I see” I told myself.  :The people are these streets are going to meet Margaret” 

I start very carefully filling in those coffee party invitations, trying to make my efforts as legible as I possible could.’

“Ring ring”. There was a phone ringing and ringing .  I looked around and saw a phone on a table behind me  It was one of those old fashioned phones, not seen much now in the cell phone era.  It had about five lines coming into one receiver.  All those lights were flashing. 

I looked over at Mimi.  She was not paying any attention to the phone.  None of the other scribbling women were paying the slightest attention to the ringing.  I could see the women at the front  of the room, the ones with their own desks.  There were all busy talking on their phones.

In one of those life changing moments, I reached over, picked up the receiver and pushed one of the flashing lights and said. “Margaret Scrivener campaign” figuring this was probably a safe response to answering  the phone in the Margaret Scrivener campaign. 

“I was just wondering where I should go to vote” came the woman’s voice on the other end.

I thought very quickly .  I decided the best answer was probably the honest one.

“I have absolutely no idea.  But if you give me your name and number I will call your right back” came my reply. 

Now what?  I decided that the place to solve this problem was probably up there at the front of the room where the desks were.  I make my way up and stop at the front desk.

Phone in one ear, hand busily writing something on a pad, in the mode of what I would come to recognize as the key to good committee room efficiency, multi tasking,  the woman looks up with a :what’s up “ to me. 

“Ah a women who called in wants to know where she should vote”. I whispered.

“Where does she live” came the somewhat curt response. 

“Oh dear that makes sense.  I will call her right back”  I called over my shoulder as I made my way back to the phone.

Call her back I did and approach the front desk once again.  “Aw , I have her address”

“Well look it up in the poll key’ the important women at the desk did not even look this time up as she answered me.. 

I top toed away  from her desk  I approached a friendly looking face wandering by.

“Where would I find something called a poll key”? 

“Oh right over here” she said guiding me to table in the corner.

“Oh now this IS very interesting “ I was completely captivated flicking through the big book marked Poll Key…. Every street was listed alphabetically with a poll number beside it. 

There is was.  My caller lived in poll number 78

And right beside the poll key was a book marked. “List of poll locations”

Another find.   The location of poll 78 for Election Day., Rosedale United Church. 

I thought I had found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

With great pride of accomplishment I call the woman back with the information.

“Oh thank you very much” came the pleasant voice,  and then,  “Oh, and I would like a lawn sign.”

“:Oh no problem” I said cheerily.  “We will get right on that”

I was lying. I knew absolutely nothing about lawn signs>

Once again, I approached the front of the room. “Aw, I have another question”. I said in a somewhat trembling voice to this important woman at the desk. “ Who do I tell about this sign business?  This woman wants a sign and I told her I would get right on it.  I have her name, phone number address”, and  then I added with a flourish “her poll number”

The important looking woman from the front of the room, stood up from her desk, held out her hand and said as I shook hands”I am Lorraine Armstrong. Who are you “?

“Katie Hermant” I said.”Friend of Mimis Came in with her to do coffee party invitations.”

Lorraine walked me over to the next desk and showed me a form marked’Sign request”

I started filling out the form.  Lorraine said to me”How much time do you have”

“Oh a bit I guess. Why?” 

“That’s good” she said as she pulled out the chair at the desk with a phone,,, at the front next to hers and said to me those fateful words  “Come and sit here”

I thought I had better mention something.”I haven’t finished my coffee party invitations”

“Never mind that “ said Lorraine.  “What we really need around here is people who can answer the phones”!

She sat me down at the desk with its poll key and poll location and sign requests form, and volunteer forms and scrutineers forms and lists of who was who in the campaign.. And a phone with many lines.

It was around 3 pm

I was still there at 6pm where a man came in blazing.. rumpled grey suit, hair and tie assure barking instructions to various desks as he went through the room.

“That’s Warren Armstrong”Whispered the woman beside me.  “Lorraine runs the office,  Warren runs the campaign.”

What I would not I know that day but would reflect years later, how lucky I was to have had leading my first campaign, the genius that was Warren Armstrong   . There was no one better at teaching how all the piece fit together in an election campaign, and to make sure we all had the best time doing it. 

By the time I left that committee room on my first day at around 9 pm I had the phone answering, form fill out, catching people going by reminding them to sign the volunteer book, and to always ask “what are you doing Election Day” ..all that multi tasking….down pat. 

I was still at the very desk on that very phone taking in the results on Election Day.

We won that election. 

There followed years of hosting my own coffee parties , and election workers parties,  and nominations and leadership campaigns and conventions and riding executives and riding presidents and fundraising. 

Some elections we won, and some we lost.  

But through it all I felt right at home. The camaraderie and Adrenalin and the tears and the cheers.. there was noting before or since I had ever done that was quite like it.  I was never good at sports.. I never got picked for teams,  But the playing on a team in a political campaign  I was good at that.   \

I smile now when I think of it    I went in one afternoon to address some coffee party invitations and never left. 

And I often wonder where my life’s journey would have taken me if I had not reached over and answered that phone. 

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# posted by katie @ 1:09 PM