Artists reflect the times they live in

Sometimes it’s the humble actions that matter, which is a lesson for our dangerous time. For years, I’ve volunteered to get out the vote for my preferred candidates. In one election, knocking on doors in a Seattle neighborhood, I spoke with three people who supported my candidate for governor but wouldn’t have voted had I not contacted them: One forgot it was Election Day. Another didn’t know how to submit an absentee ballot. The third needed a ride to the polls. My impact had nothing to do with eloquence or skill and everything to do with simply showing up. After three recounts, my candidate won by 133 votes in a state of 6.2 million. I’d personally gotten one-fiftieth of the margin. If just a handful of the volunteers on my side had stayed home, or there had been a few more on the other side, Washington State would have had a different governor.

Another time, in a US Senate race, I walked Election Day precincts until my feet hurt, and then continued until the polls closed. The margin this time was 2,229 votes, and I had no idea it would be that close. I also once invited my neighbors to a house party for my friend Lisa, who was running for Seattle City Council. Fifteen people RSVP’d, but only five showed, plus Lisa and her campaign manager. I apologized for wasting the campaign’s time, but my friend Shep, who’d just retired, was one of the five. He bombarded her with questions, but then, profoundly impressed by her answers, made volunteering for her campaign his full-time job over the next five weeks. Lisa won by 39 votes. Had we not held the house party, she most likely would have lost.