Article September 5, 2011 Issue

A walk down ‘Harmony Lane’

By Shelly Richardson

First appeared as a web original on June 8, 2011

I sat on the curb on the street corner. Crying. I was a manager for political canvasses and was out in the community working side by side with my staff.

During my career, I’d canvassed broken-down trailer parks—no problem. Inner city apartments—no problem. Rural housing, politically antagonistic territory, mansions—no problem. I’d knocked on doors in almost every neighborhood in the state of Oregon, and much of the Northwest, and trained hundreds and hundreds of canvassers. Yet, this simple, seemingly politically progressive neighborhood street brought me to tears. I felt alone. These people were mean.

After about ten minutes I looked up from the ground where I was and started laughing through my tears. The street sign said: “Harmony Lane.”

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