Here's a little tip for all of the candidates vying for office this fall: Don't call Geraldine White. If you do, you'll probably lose her vote. "It really ticks me off," said Geraldine.
She wouldn't mind if you stopped by her house to talk face to face, but if she picks up the phone and there's a recording of you listing your accomplishments or trashing your opponent, you're dead to her.
"It has the opposite effect," she said. "They should have brains enough to know that."
The reason she and so many other people are getting those calls is because they work. Candidates from both major parties use the tactic, although individual campaigns decide whether they'll be making telephone calls.
"It's very effective and it's very cost effective," said Kirsten Searer, a spokesperson for the state Democratic Party.
White, who turned 80 on Aug. 24, (you may have seen her birthday greeting on Cactus Jack's sign) has a phone for two reasons: emergencies and talking with her small circle of friends and family. But she was receiving several of those campaign calls in the days leading up to the primary, and knows they'll be coming again before the general election.
"It was every day practically, around noon and around five, and sometimes later at night," she said.
The calls, she said, contain no useful information for comparing candidates.
"It's like a robot calling," she said. "Finally I just started hanging up on them."
Candidates who take the time to go door to door, on the other hand, impress her. Only one candidate did that prior to the primary.
"She stood there and told me what she stood for. That's the kind of thing I want to hear. I saw her face to face and we talked about different things, her family and so forth."
Geraldine said she used to get a lot of calls from telemarketers, but signing up for the federal do-not-call list fixed that like magic. Political candidates are not bound by the do-not-call list because, as humorous as this sounds, they are not trying to sell you anything. It seems lawmakers made an exception for themselves while making this law.
So Geraldine, your best option is to keep hanging up.
We also recommend that you call the offices of the candidates calling you and ask to be taken off their phone list.
And while you're on the line, ask for the home number of the candidate. Once you have that, just call them several times a day, preferably during lunch or dinner.
It's obvious they have no problem with that.
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Geraldine has strong feelings about another matter - the imminent sale and development of the Lompa Ranch, which she can see from her window in Carson City. It doesn't make her mad - she understands there's no stopping growth, at least within city limits.
It makes her sad.
It's another sign that the old Carson City that she and her husband, Don, fell in love with 30 years ago is disappearing. She remembers that tiny, beautiful town where everyone knew everyone else, where Don walked to his job at Arco alongside Gov. Robert List.
The changes usually come slowly, subtly. But not always.
The huge tree on the Lompa Ranch fell over last winter. The eagles would roost there during calving season and swoop down to feed on the afterbirth. She and her neighbors would watch it all, right here in Carson City.
A neighbor wrote her a card afterward saying, "we will sure miss our eagles, won't we."
She misses them greatly.
But Geraldine still watches and listens to the Lompa Ranch. Every afternoon at 4, she hears the cows soughing at feeding time.
"Those are the things that have been so happy for me," she said. "That will soon be gone."
"It's kind of sad for an old lady like I am to see these things."
•••
Geraldine had one other story to tell, which she calls the miracle of her life.
She has experienced much sadness. Two of her three sons have died, both at age 52, and her husband died of cancer.
But she knew how to get through those and the other sadnesses of her life. It was a lesson she learned 40 years ago.
She and her husband were both alcoholics and their marriage was stormy. "If he said it was black, I said it was white."
One night, after she'd left her husband and was staying at her sister's house, she prayed, saying she could get no lower. She asked for help.
"At that moment, I knew I would never take another drink," she said.
Her husband called a short time later, asking her to come home. She said she would, but only if he also never took another drink.
Neither ever did. And they did it without AA or any other support group.
"After that, we had a calm and serene life ... we just had a wonderful life together."
That's her miracle and she says it taught her where she could go for strength whenever she was low.