As Day of Action Approaches, Let Us Not Forget 1994

This Friday I'm about to attempt a feat that no one has attempted since Roy Jones, Jr. when he played semi-pro basketball the afternoon of his primetime bout to defend his super middleweight boxing title - participate in two day of action events in six hours. At noon, I'll be in Boston for Opening Day ceremony before jumping a plane to Philly and high-tailing it to the Jersey Shore for my friend Emily's wedding, her own personal day of action.

Emily's day of action is fifteen years in the making and her romance runs concurrent with the launch of AmeriCorps in 1994, as she has been dating her boyfriend since sophomore year of high school which does prove the adage you can't hurry love. Even more coincidental, Emily is marrying I guy with the last name Off. You read that right. His last name is Off. So, even though her wedding would be considered a Day On by national service standards, it's really the Offs' Day.

In addition to AmeriCorps being signed into legislation and Emily meeting Greg, there is another monumental event that proved young people, if called to action, are ready to lead and make change. Allow me to set the scene. Spring 1994. A sense of wrongness hung in the air at West Beverly High. Young leaders ready to be called to action by a visionary of the same age. Of course, I speak of one of the all-time great day of actions, the final exam walk-out staged by Brandon Walsh and the entire student body, and the battle cry that rang throughout the superintendant's chambers - "Donna Martin Graduates!" For the 27-35 year olds that chant became a euphimistic cheer for fighting unjust laws, political unrest or sticking it to the man anytime a twizzler got stuck in a vending machine.



What will become this generation's "Donna Martin Graduates!"? Lucky for the 17-24 year olds, Opening Day has arrived in time to inspire and kick-off the year of service. And, maybe even just as important, the new 90210 is back on the air, ready to lead.

The 'What's Going on Here?' Appeal of Opening Day

As I was walking through the Boston Common this weekend, I came across a man with rolled up sleeves preaching the gospel of Christ from the steps of the big water fountain next to Park Street. Considering I didn't have the intention to go inside a church on Sunday, I kind of appreciated that a man understood my lack of religious zeal and used part of his afternoon to bring the church to me. That's just the out of the church thinking needed to resurrect a movement among young people. [It's also an interesting lesson on how you get your start as a preacher in life. Don't have a pulpit? Stand on a public fountain. Don't have a faithful congregation? Direct your sermon towards the people sitting on park benches. Don't have a commanding stage presence? Go bald and pump your fist a lot. People listen attentively to bald men with charisma.]

While life was going on all around him (skateboarding, hot dog eating, dog walking, heckling), he was focused on breathing life into the people. In essence, he was doing what the 2007-2008 CY corps will be doing Friday afternoon on Opening Day. Yes, the message is different, but the means to capture the public's imagination is similar. So, too, is the response of the average citizen.

Progression of thought of a passerby coming across a strange public spectacle:

Stage 1: "I have no idea why they are doing what they are doing, but I can't look away." When khaki-pleated young people come charging from all corners with corporate sponsor signs, you really can't look away. Just like I couldn't look away from the bald preacher who kept referring to a single sheet of loose leaf paper clothes-pinned to the music sheet stand in front of him. From the looks of the beads of sweat, I would say he had done a good 20 minutes of material by the time I saw him. Yet, he kept referring to that sheet of paper. How many talking points can you really fit on one side of loose leaf?

Stage 2: The attempt to understand and accept the message. Orchestrating a big public event has a lot of moving pieces and many central messages. That's why it's important to have phrases like "If you remember nothing else from today's event.." or "If you take nothing else from our time together..." From CY Opening Day, I always remember that Charlie Rose's suit is due back by five o'clock (Mayor's stock joke that I laugh at every year, but probably not the key message). People don't want to walk away until they grasp the central message. But people also have no attention span and they need clues that something live changing is going to be said. The fountain preacher did this well. His key message: "If you remember nothing else, remember this: those who believe will not be condemned." Come to think of it, he used a variation of that phrase for ten minutes but consistently changed the order of the words. That solves the mystery of the one sheet of notes.

Stage 3. "You know, I respect what they are doing, but I'm ready to get lunch now." In the world of civics and mobilizing citizens, this is the rub. Lunchtime has high foot traffic, but the pursuit of food trumps pretty much any cause or civic interest. I ultimately left the preacher standing on the fountain because his spiritual nourishment couldn't compete with a roast beef sandwich. Sure, that sounds lame, but let this be a lesson to all future preachers and civic engagers: if you provide food, your followers will grow.

Voting is Elementary

I'm not sure where you will vote today, but I voted at the Mary E. Curley School this morning in Jamaica Plain. It's very fitting that many polling stations are located at elementary schools. As a voter, you tend to feel like a child on the first day of school and forget everything you learned up until this point in your life. Here are my observations:

Are you supposed to be here? It's probably the most asked question of a first grader on his or her first day. (Incidentally, as a new 4th grader in a Catholic School as a young boy, I was told by the First Grader Teacher to stop wandering around and get in her class. But, Miss, I'm a 4th grader. I just don't know where to go). It's also the most basic mistake a voter makes - going to the wrong place. Thank you to Laura Keith's email, I did not make this mistake. However, I did need to know my ward and precinct which I neglected to remember (19 and 3, for fellow low-numbered Perkins Street residents). Upon entering the Curley School, the screening volunteer asked everyone their address to make sure they were in the right spot. As it turns out, I was standing in the Mary E. Curley School and she re-directed me to Ward 10 at the neighboring James M. Curley School.

You are not on my list, we are going to have to call an authority. Upon entering the other Curley School, I was greeted by Electoral Official Arnie who could not find McDevitt, Sean in his log. I was missing even though I registered by mail in September at this new address. Arnie passed me off to Gill. I told Gill my dilemma and he dialed a mystery number on his cell phone. After being placed on hold for 5 minutes, he passed on the cell phone to me and told me, "When you hear a voice, tell them you need to know where you should vote." I felt like I was in the principal's office and he was forcing me to tell my Mom and admit to her that I hadn't done my homework. Hey, I messed up, but we don't really need to get Mom involved, do we? After explaining to the mystery voice I needed to know where to vote, she confirmed that I should go back to where I came from - ward 19, precinct 3 at the Mary E. Curley School. Great, now I run the risk of getting a demerit for wandering the halls.

Use this writing instrument, double check your work. Voting is like taking a standardized test. Use this pen. Fill in the right oval. Make sure to go over your work. I can't take the pressure. It's funny that people will try to use the wrong writing instruments to fill out the ballot even though there are the special black felt pens at all the polls. Gill's counterpart at 19/3 caught a few voters trying to steal pencils off vacant electoral official desks. Big no-no. Also, the ballots are double-sided so the voter needs to be certain to turn the page over. The gentlemen ahead of me was getting ready to scan his ballots when the official asked him, "Did you complete both sides?" He went back to the poll with his dead down.

What's the Answer - Yes or No? That's how children think about and respond to complex questions - saying Yes or No without in-depth analysis of the problem. The complexity of explaining Question 2 to anyone in 10 minutes or less is nearly impossible. I saw an 11 minute video about Question 2 and I still have no idea how to explain it to someone else. That's why volunteers outside polling stations keep their marketing as elementary as possible - "Remember, vote Yes on Number 2." My strategy would be - "Hey, say Yes, it's better than saying No."

Polling booths are as advanced as a science fair display booth. It's almost like first graders designed the polling booth. Let's get a wooden coat hanger thing, add 4 shelves, and attach a light bulb on top like a star on a Christmas tree so people can see. Brilliantly simple.

Actually, I would like to add a new question to the ballot - Vote YES on outsourcing all of the country's problems to first graders.

From Candyland to the Campaign Trail

Today is Halloween and if you are a parent, you could be making some big mistakes tonight that impact the future of our country.

Many children see this holiday as a fun day to play dress-up and score lots of candy. I see it for what it really is - a one day dispensation from common sense and good parenting. If you run a tight ship, letting little Johnny be a pirate for a night could reverse 364 days of sound child-rearing.

Let's start with the basic premise of Halloween - pretending to be someone you are not while taking candy from strangers. I'm no Dr. Spock, but that seems like horrible advice. In fact, if you could tell your 5 year old only two things before you sent them out into the world, it would be don't talk to strangers and be yourself.

On a typical Saturday, if you asked your babysitter what you did all day and she said, "I dressed your son up like a toothpaste tube and we hit up all the even addresses on S. Huntington for twizzlers and smarties," you would be horrified. So why is it so cute on Halloween?

Even as kids are pretending to be someone they're not, parents go a step further and make sure their kids look like everyone else. According to ExtremeHalloween.com, 41% of all boys are wearing Capt. Jack Sparrow costumes this year, 49% of all girls are fairies or princesses, and 26% of all babies are Lady Bugs. There is a dearth of leadership in this country, and it's today's parents we need to hold partially responsible for training tomorrow's leaders to be sheep (5th most popular costume for babies coming in at 8%).

And what about trick or treat? What kind of message does it send when children believe it's better to receive than give? If we ever hope to have one million young people serving through AmeriCorps or have politicians with strong values in office, we need to flip the dynamic of Halloween. What we need to do is make Halloween the training ground for future class presidents and the candy route their campaign trail. After all, Halloween is the perfect grassroots, knocking-on-doors community outreach initiative since it falls one week before the election.

That's why when I become a father, there will be no pirate or Superman costumes allowed in my house. My son will be wearing a blue blazer and going as himself. That way, when the nice old ladies ask, "Who are you supposed to be?" he can say, "I'm Seamus* McDevitt and I'm running for kindergarten class president."

And then reaching into his pillowcase of candy, a sack that holds the idealism of a nation, says, "I hope I can count on your support. A vote for me is a vote for America. Happy Halloween." Talk about cute.