Some of their answers are humorous and witty. One older and very Caucasian-sounding gentleman, when asked what is most important to him of the issues Obama discusses, refuses to address that and says instead in reaction to some subtle racial divisiveness, "I like his looks." Another, when asked his Presidential preference, answers, "Anybody else," meaning perhaps that a mentally-challenged street person he met recently exhibited more perception and intelligence than our recent leaders have from his point of view, and that an unemployed janitor he knows from childhood also has. Others expound very seriously on their concerns for the next generations and their families and friends as well as themselves, including the elderly on fixed incomes and with medical exigencies to address. Reacting to respondents is sometimes problemmatic. One asked, "Why are you voting for that black man?" A little startled, the volunteer answered, hoping to be clear, helpful and encouraging, "Well, he's half-white. Hello? Hello? Are you there?" An Appalachian State University professor of political science is not impressed that the Democratic candidate received his law degree from Harvard University and was its first ethnic head of the Law Review. "It's an elite school," he protests. I point out that Barack Obama entered on his merits, not as a relative or acquaintance of alumni, and that, considering the complexity of national problems now, "I don't think this is any time to be anti-intellectual" in our choice of the next President and Vice President of the United States of America. The professor has another call waiting and signs off without explicitly expressing his preference, although he states cogently his dislike of socialism over capitalism. There's no time to tell him that I've owned several businesses, as have and do others working in the Obama campaign, and am an enthusiast, particularly on the low to mid range, of that economic system too.

A few respondents have moved to other areas and are working in the campaigns there: one in Colorado, another in Nashville Tennessee, and a third in Raleigh North Carolina. We exchange pleasantries and notes on what's happening in our respective regions. One younger middle-aged student says that he's voting for Nader and looking for a woman who's a "fascist environmentalist." He wants his bumper stickers to read, when he runs for office, "Polluters will be neutered." I end by pleading with him not to waste his vote during this crucial election on a third party candidate but can't tell if he concurs. A querolous-sounding man explains that he's received before calls for the person whose name I read but that that person has never lived at his address. He goes on to tell me of a friend with the same last name who's lived for years by Watauga Lake down a road unfamiliar to me, but he doesn't believe they're any relation to each other. When I ask if he's planning to vote on Tuesday, he answers, "I don't know. I'm 86 years old. Maybe my son will take me." I urge him not to miss the opportunity to participate in this historic election, and he murmurs agreeably.

Two congenial and minimally-remunerated headquarters personnel -- one an Air Force veteran who served as military police during his tour of duty in Alaska and with a masters in Political Science, and the other a Georgetown graduate of English and Philosophy -- provide coffee, pop, cookies and lunches like sandwiches and pizza for themselves and volunteers, as well as direction and assistance. For the opportunity of a lifetime to be involved in precedent-setting political activities, Mark left his position with the Illinois Governor's office for the campaign, and Blake is biding time energetically before entering law school to follow generally in the footsteps of his father, a corporate attorney practicing in Manhattan, New York. There's a long table with literature and sale items like buttons and bumper stickers with yard signs propped up against the walls. We run out fairly frequently and refer some to Democratic Headquarters just the next block over. Foot traffic is usually busy and entertaining. One man is from England and requests explication from me of our puzzling Electoral College sytem. I summarize with some clarity its history and the theory behind its makeup. He remains pleasantly curious, wishing us good luck as he leaves. Another visitor in the company of her six-month-old son walks through the door opening to request literature and stickers. While we're talking, I ask the baby's name and she answers "Jude." Bending over the stroller, I smile saying, "What a great name! What a lucky boy you are!" and Jude grins back making a happy, gleeful motion with his whole body as if he completely understands what I said and agrees, absolutely.

One respondent recounts her conversation just previous with a McCain supporter who has assured her that Obama will disband the Boy Scouts and similar organizations by insisting on the installation of homosexuals as their leaders young and old. A walk-in complains that the machines switched all his votes for Democratic candidates to Republican ones. A volunteer recounts with distressed horror talking to prospective voters in one area that nearly all react voluably that they "would never vote for that nigger." In contrast, a few who turn out to have already voted express their delight at being able to cast a ballot for Barack Obama and the Democrats with involuntary and joyful giggles. A woman volunteer with a law degree and experience as a corporate litigation attorney details the inexplicably odd experience of having her straight hair come out in clumps and grow back with curls while her body exuded strange-smelling chemicals for about two years, perhaps in response to some countrywide meltdown of previously-assured Constitutional guarantees in the personal and professional lives of citizens. The bumper sticker on a volunteer's vehicle reads, "WHO WOULD JESUS KILL?" There is general agreement that the last eight years have been criminal and miserable in violation of truly religious and democratic ideals and that we don't want anything more or less than our Constitutional country, and a healthily progressing world, back.

Betsy, a retired middle-aged Cobol programmer has her fingernails painted red, white and blue and sits her three-and-a-half foot long body on the floor to assemble yard signs whose buyers complain are stolen regularly and need replacement. She wears a pin some days that says, "1/20/09 End of an Error." One undecided voter married to a Democrat switches parties in irritation and disgust with tactics of the opposition, which have cost him another five bucks. A sign on the wall reads: "You steal our signs; we get more money for our campaign." The back of a USA-colored tee-shirt Blake wears one days reads: "'If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.' -- John F. Kennedy, Jr." Betsy tells anecdotally of wearing once a shirt to the mall imprinted with "Vertically Challenged," which she found amusing but no onlookers seemed to notice or understand. Two African-American Appalachian State University professors -- one of English Composition and another of Music with a prestigious jazz band he leads as its alto sax player -- show up now and then to help, and the owner of an automobile dealership delivers a large tray of deli meats and cheeses for making sandwiches. Two massage therapists, a man and a woman made up in cat face for Hallowe'en, come in on consecutive days to volunteer their professional services and set up minimal equipment in the meeting room for weary and sometimes stressed volunteers.

Around 10 p.m. on the Saturday evening before Election Day Jo, our volunteer office manager, and her husband were eating in a neighborhood downtown restaurant before attending a late night film. Her cell phone rang and a voice asked if it was she. Responding affirmatively, the person said, "I have a conference call for you with Barack Obama. Please hang on to talk with him." Jo was sure it was a joke-trick and thought to herself and aloud to her husband, "Sure it is. I'm gonna get Mark in the morning for this." A doubt rose within her and shortly thereafter the voice of the Democratic candidate came over the waves. Jo stood up on her chair, waving her arms and telling all the other patrons to be quiet, Barack Obama was on the telephone! When I asked her the next morning if she'd written down everything he said so she could remember it, she shook her head in a little sorrow and said that she hadn't but the gist of the message was, "Keep the power going." And we did and have done our best.

During the final two days numbers of volunteers swell until we are literally running into each other in the hallway. Jo, mother of a six-year-old son who visits us once for awhile, is one of those in charge. She's never really worked before and is pleasurably challenged and energized, as well as efficiently organized. Dr. Hall Beck of ASU's Psychology Department joins us with assistance and interesting conversation. So does April Flanders of that university's art department. A specialist in printmaking, she's lived all around the country and in Canada. During a Florida sojourn for the year 2000 election, she and a friend registered to vote in that state at the same time and together. When that Election Day came around, she was allowed to cast her ballot but the friend, an African-American, never received a registration card and became, at the last minute, disenfranchised by missing records. Susan, a clinical social worker, has been my best and warmest friend at headquarters since the first day and we've laughed and giggled together frequently about various happenings past and present. Twelve hundred yard signs delivered on Saturday have been distributed and many of them purloined, according to their owners. A new sign taped to the front room wall reads: "You can steal our signs, but you can't steal the election." In the dwindling hours of "phone banking," a disabled veteran argues with me that none of our governments are any good, they don't really make any difference, there's no use in voting, and the country is about to implode totally any minute. In the midst of a rousing defense of active and participatory democracy, the importance of every single vote and widespread citizen participation in all aspects of government and community with honorable mention for ground-breaking programs that have been initiated historically cross-country and worldwide, the superb qualifications of Obama and Biden, and warning that he'll "hate himself in the morning" if he misses this precedent-setting, portentious and prestigious vote -- the man suddenly imparts that he hasn't registered to vote and won't therefore be allowed into a polling booth this year. I wish him a good day, suggest that he register later for the next round, and hang up. Maybe he'll convince his wife, or a neighbor. Off and on we enjoy with the others sandwiches handmade by a local friend and Betsy's extraordinary culinary gift to us all in the form of huge prepared platters of barbecued pork, green and baked beans, slaw, and the pieces de resistance: over-sized cookies and cupcakes topped with photo icing of the two Democratic candidates that she ordered Saturday from a baker, and Democratic supporter, in California. We agree that perhaps, like pieces of a wedding cake, they should be home-frozen and saved for eating on an anniversary occasion, say Obama/Biden in 2012. Dispersing little by little as work to be done wanes in the final hours, Susan and I exchange a parting hug and e-mail addresses.

Emily, a widow a few decades junior to me, has been my hostess for overnight stays. One of three daughters and a son to her Republican father, a retired elected Judge who studied to understand the law rather than earning a formal degree and a mother whom she much admired for her profound and unassuming Christianity, she has just switched parties in the past six months to devote all of her extra energies in overturning policies and leadership with which she now whole-heartedly disagrees. She assists variously in Obama offices and also makes the rounds canvasing with voting information and encouragement for citizens to get to the polls and cast their ballot for Barack Obama and Joe Biden. Emily's insightful knowledge about background and issues is impressive and enlightening. As an intelligent humanist, she's a joy to question on viewpoints across the spectrum. She's also a very successful and long-time real estate broker who's owned and remodeled her three-story home over a period of 15 years. Her conveniently-located sales company employs 15 agents; her home is an endless joy of unusual and unique mountain folk art interestingly placed and arranged. The setting is a fairly developed wilderness up a winding road, and "the digs" are totally comfortable including a front porch and generously-sized back deck. Emily's older cat Freddie and the two young curly-haired, mid-sized and mixed-breed sister dogs are obviously pampered and loved. They have their own mattresses on the floor but sleep, and come and go, where and when they please. One morning as I'm drinking coffee, her very large gray feline sits on my lap for awhile communicating how fabulous his life is, his superior intelligence and consciousness, and his worldview, which is -- sorry, dog-lovers, but I'm just conveying what he said -- that "Cats never totally bliss out, but are always aware, and that's why: Cats Rule." Attractive and flexible, Emily's an excellent cook, funny and smart in conversation, friendly, and laid-back, at least when she's not working, so I feel extraordinarily blessed in both the unexpected assignment to "High Country" and the relaxed fun of spending nights and mornings there.

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