The Thomas Promise

I awoke this morning feeling anxious and jittery, and decided to combine a walk to the Venice canals with some time doing last minute phone banking. They handed us the 434 area code: Virginia. I made my way upstairs to the room I've been calling from for the past month and dialed my first person: Thomas, an 86-year old.

"I want to get to the polls, but I don't know how I'm going to do that," he told me.

"Do you need a ride? I can arrange one for you," I said.

"No, I have a ride, but I just got out of the hospital. I have a walker but I can barely walk. I don't know how I'm going to wait in line."

"Here's what you're going to do," I said, calling upon some bossy part of myself. "You're going to go to the polls and have your driver talk to the person at the head of the line and explain your situation."

"Do you think they'll let me in?" he asked.

"Yes, but if not then you'll have your driver ask the next person. And the next. Someone's going to let you in. You have to promise me you'll do this," I said. "The world is watching your state right now. Do you promise, Thomas?"

"I do, Melissa," he said. "And I want to thank you for your enthusiasm."

I'll go back to the phone bank this afternoon after an election day lunch with some friends. I have enjoyed every minute of this process, and if Virginia swings Obama, I'll know Thomas kept his promise.