Jon Dowd tells how flying to Cleveland to volunteer for the Obama campaign changed his view of the world and himself. (photo: Ed Curtin)

I am not a comfortable flier. I don’t mind much of it except the takeoffs and landings. And the prospect of four of those certainly had my nerves on edge. But this fall, with some vacation time on my hands and campaign news in my brain, I felt compelled to step up and do something that mattered to me — and so I did, flying to the battle ground state of Ohio to volunteer in the projects of Cleveland for the Obama campaign. The take-offs and landings were a small price I’d have to pay.

After an all-day flight, I arrived at a rather upscale strip mall of clothing boutiques and electronics outlets. Feeling upbeat and a little at home, I headed through the parking lot to the huge Ohio for Change storefront and passed a woman on the phone to her insurance agent. Her car window had just been smashed and everything ripped from the dashboard. Not a comforting beginning, and for a guy who’s never been in a Rust Belt inner city before, the incident clouded my expectations and raised some personal fears for the days to come.

My job the next day was to visit with residents in several neighborhoods asking folks if they’ve already early voted or were going to wait until Tuesday, Election Day.

I was a little taken aback at how run-down most of Cleveland was. Building after building was boarded up and vacant. One in five houses in the neighborhoods I was canvassing was condemned and abandoned. These were neighborhoods of poor people. I found myself having to force down a fear of being mugged, robbed and shot.

But at my first door, the people were friendly beyond belief. That there was someone from Oregon on their porch working for the candidate they supported, floored them. And the scene repeated itself at every door. Wearing my Oregon State windbreaker with my Surfers for Obama button was an appealing ice breaker. As the day went on, and in the days to come, kids would clamor for the stickers and buttons I was handing out.  The fear of being in the ‘hood had been lifted by the very people I had been afraid of.

I began noticing how well-kept each home was, the walls that were without graffiti, the sparkling mass-transit system. More importantly, I began noticing how each person I met was glowing with anticipation. And there questions were always this: “Do you think we can pull it off?” It was always the expression of “we,” poor African-American big city dwellers and me, a white guy from Oregon.

I recently turned 57, and while that may not be old, I am sometimes confronted with the realization that there might not be too many years for me to make an impact on the world. I’ll probably never be a Lincoln, a Gandhi, a Pauling or a King, and I may never write a book. But there are little things I can do — little things we can do collectively that can add up to great things.

Volunteering allowed me to tell myself: “I made a difference.” Even if the other candidate had won, I had forced myself to do something different, and I had played my part in doing my part.

When I arrived home, I found my wife had created a ‘You are my HERO’ poster for me. Yes, it means a lot that she’s proud of me. But nobody is more proud of me that I am.

Jon Dowd is an information technology consultant for the Community Network at Oregon State University.

Presidential politics came home to OSU last week when men's basketball coach Craig Robinson became "brother-in-law-elect" to Barack Obama. Robinson is seen here addressing the Democratic National Convention in August. (photo: Associated Press)

NOTE: Listen to Craig Robinson on Thursday’s “All Things Considered” from National Public Radio by clicking here. — Editor

Just like a new coach might hope at the beginning of a new season, Craig Robinson knew his brother-in-law’s Presidential campaign had a “real possibility” of succeeding.

“What we had to do was keep our eye on the prize, our nose to the grindstone,” said Robinson, Oregon State’s men’s basketball coach and brother of Michelle Obama, wife of President-elect Barack Obama.

Nine days ago, the hope became a reality as U.S. voters gave the Illinois Democrat 52 percent of the popular vote and a two-to-one margin in the Electoral College. His election as not only the 44th U.S. president but the first African-American president in the nation’s 232-year history dominated international news coverage.

Friday afternoon, Robinson was looking forward to a quiet weekend with his wife and children to let the reality of it all sink in. “These people I’ve known all my life are now the president and first lady,” he exclaimed.

Standing on stage at almost midnight on Nov. 4 and towering over his brother-in-law, Robinson felt “a powerful rush” as 120,000 people in Chicago’s Grant Park cheered, screamed, and cried after Obama’s acceptance speech. The coach had been an important part of the campaign, representing Obama at more than 50 events over the past year.

“Yet it was very humbling, too, quite an honor to be standing there with Barack and representing America,” said Robinson.

He was in the room when his brother-in-law took phone calls from President George W. Bush and Sen. John McCain, the Republican nominee. He took the stage with the rest of the family after Obama’s victory speech, and was awed by both the crowd’s energy and the moment.

“It’s so powerful, so emotional to realize all that has transpired to get us to this point today,” Robinson said, not only for the Obama campaign, not only for African Americans, but for all America.

For all the historic precedent of the past week, however, Robinson is now in “business as usual mode. My focus is to try to turn a basketball program around.”

Robinson in April inherited an OSU program that is coming off an 0-18 season in the Pac 10, carrying a 21-game losing streak and looking for its first NCAA tournament appearance since 1990.

A few hours after Chicago, he was back on the job, watching film, running a practice and looking for ways to make OSU better.

It would be naïve to say that the notoriety of being the coach whose brother-in-law is president of the most powerful government on Earth won’t affect the OSU program, Robinson said. “If we get invited into some (recruits’) homes because of it, that would be fine.”

He doesn’t feel apprehensive, he said. “It just that more people will be watching to see what we do.”

Spoken just like a new coach hoping for a “real possibility” of success at the beginning of a new season.

~ by Ed Curtin