Years ago, living in Chicago, I had friends with family roots in the city. One evening they reminisced about the avid engagement of Chicagoans in city politics and governance. They told a story of their great-aunt, an active emissary for her chosen party. Her assignment, as a member of a Jewish community, was to see that “every Jewish family in her neighborhood had a chicken for their stew pot every Saturday night,” both figuratively and literally. She would religiously visit members of her “flock” each week to confirm their basic needs were met (and to remind them to remember who “had their back” on election day).

Fast forward to the current day. I dread elections, and the current one is the worst. I am bombarded from all sides with demands for contributions: “Pummeled!” “C’mon man…” “We need $100 by midnight!” The entire focus is meeting some nebulous, just-out-of-reach fundraising goal by the next FEC deadline, which is always just around the corner, and if they fail, America will fail because I didn’t “chip in” lavishly. I keep wondering (while acknowledging the efforts of nonpartisan volunteers, including myself, through public assistance charities), is anyone doing anything, in conjunction with elected leaders, to engage and assist people needing help with their day-to-day challenges? Or are “democratic elections” in our country now just an extravagant marketing campaign in which political office is ultimately bought, not earned? If so, we can anticipate a “government of the people, for and by a small coterie of wealthy oligarchs.” There are contemporary examples of such systems that serve as harbingers of what to expect if we stay this course.

Today, nothing seems more certain than once the votes are counted, half the electorate will be devastated, and nothing is less certain than which half that will be. Nonetheless, there is little doubt that both sides will quickly regroup and focus on the next election, likely through — yes, you guessed it — more fundraising.

For a new direction, political parties and people could take a page from the old-school playbook and build small armies of volunteers to connect directly and regularly with the people whose votes they covet, to ensure they do not “fall through the cracks” in challenging times, even if that involves something as mundane and unglamorous as just seeing that they have a decent dinner on their table every Saturday night.

David McKay lives in Niwot.