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del toro: follow the conversation for tonight's america refred ing #kidcandidate. ♪ ♪ ♪ by, it's rollercoter, n't stop ♪ ♪etter ta a hold, spin ili ♪ wl, that'righ♪ ♪hat's rit ♪ ♪ peoe all arnd, ings areonna chae ♪ ♪verybodynows ty're gon stayhe same,hough that'right, tt's rit ♪ i can tl yoevery ti, it'sll right ♪ ♪ it's not right ♪ ♪ every time you stay, i get going my way ♪ ♪ well, i know your type ♪ ♪ oh,hat's alrit ♪ ♪ tt's righ that'right ♪ ♪ hey, ooh ♪

♪ hey ♪ ♪ hey, ooh ♪ ♪ hey... ♪ del toro: stay up to date on america reframed at worldchannel.org. subscribe to world e to go beyond the lens with our filmmakers. major funding for america reamed was provided by the john d. and catherine t. macarthur foundation, wyncote foundation, the corporatn r publicroadstin adtional fding for americy en socie foundatns, acton family giving, park foundation, the national endowment for the arts, and the revand david logan foundaon. ♪ ♪

♪ ♪ when i voted in my first election as an american citizen, i saw a sign at the poll station that said, "ask me about being a poll worker." i asked. a petite woman with short gray hair wrote down a website and told me that they're always looking. i thought, as a new american, d the democratic process on a deeper level, and be part of it. i never thought i would become an american citizen. it never really mattered to me until i had my daughter. when she was younger, we used to travel quite a bit, and there was one year where we were outside the country one week shy of six months. i knew, as a green card holder, that if i had left the country for longer than six months, i could have my green card taken away from me.

my middle sister had her green card taken away from her. she went to holland to be with her love, and when she returned to the u.s., she was told that she was just transiting. it scared me that i could be kicked out of a country that my daughter knows as home. and so, when i received notification of my in-person citizenship test, i rented a compact car to drive to downtown los angeles, and i ev found cheap parking. when i got to the office of my in-person citizenship test, i saw a man sitting behind a simple desk. he was proudly fourth-generation japanese american, and he had such a great, jovial smile about him, and nature. "who's the second president of the united states?" "john adams. and that's not part of the test." "you're right. you studied more than you had to." when i received notification that i passed my citizenship test, i arranged for my daughter to be taken out of school

so i could take her with me for the swearing-in ceremony. when my name was called up, she clapped and took pictures, and it was such a fun day. when i got my canadian citizenship-- my family and i had immigrated from korea to canada when i was younger-- that was a saderemony. we had to renounce our korean citizenship. as a new american, i could still be canadian, and i could vote. for the 2016 election, i voted for hillary clinton. i wanted her to break the glass ceiling. canada, great britain, israel, and new zealand already had female heads of state. i wanted my daughter to have a president that strived for equality. and so i looked up the website, signed up to be a poll worker, had a phone interview, and signed up for my training session. at the training session, i was surrounded by people who really cared about democracy. in the lineup for the women's restroom, we all talked about how long we had been poll workers for--

"16 years," "20 years," "30 years." and we clapped when someone said, "36 years." here i was with firefighters, librarians, and other civil employees who really cared about democracy. and we all chanted, "voting never stops," because that's what we learned. that the main job as a poll worker was to make sure that voting happens. on the day of the election, i was so excited. i woke up at 5:00 in the morning. i couldn't sleep. i carried with me a battery-operated candle, so cars could see me at nighttime as i crossed the street, as i walked my way to the polling station, an adult education center. i also had a book with me to read during the breaks. and when i got to the polling station... i was confused. there was no one around. and then i noticed a woman siing in a dark buick sedan.

i walked over to her car and gently tapped on her window. "hi, um... "i'm here toe a volueer poll worker. do you know how we get in?" she opened her car door. "i'm beverly, um, the supervisor. "i was hoping you would have the key. this is my first time being a supervisor." she got out of the car, and we stood outside on the sidewalk, waiting. no other poll workers showed up. they were supposed to be six of us. where are the people who cared about democracy, who nt to make sure that voting never stops? when the principal arrived, he refused to let us in. he said that he received no notification that we were supposed to be there that day, and so we quickly set up polling stations on the sidewalk. voters were waiting. i was sweating.

voting never stops. this was not how it was supposed to happen. i thought that we would get doughnutand refreshments providedy the polling station. that the poll worker would high-five each other when voters came in to vote. i thought we would at least be inside. when the area supervisor, ralph, arrived, he told us once again that the principal didn't know that we were supposed to be there. and then finally, mid-morning, the principal said, "all right, come in, because it looks bad that voting is happening on the sidewalk." he also told me to tell beverly that we need to be outside of the building by 6:00 p.m. and i told him proudly that votindoesn't stop until the person who enters the line at 8:00 p.m. votes, and then we needed time to break down our things. he begrudgingly agreed.

and, finally, i could focus on my volunteer job as a poll worker. i passed the ballots to the voters, told them how to vote, and gave them their "i voted" stickers. i saw neighbors come in, and my husband and daughter, they came to visit me. my daughter, she passed me her mail-in ballot that was my husband's. and she told me that she wants to become a poll worker. at the end of the day, ralph, the area supervisor, came back and told us that he would bring everything back with him because of the mess of the morning. it was 16 hours, and i was exhausted. so four years later, that polling station closed, and i honestly... stopped becoming a poll worker. but then, for this election,

i signed up again, because it does matter to me. and california has now changed the rules that the polling stations can open up for ten days. i was offered to work ten days, eight, five, three, or two. i chose three days. my training session starts soon. voting never stops. ♪ it's 2005, and i'm in a pub in north cornwall. north cornwall is this bit at the bottom of the u.k.-- it sticks out. this is london, this is scotland. and i'm in this pub. i'm drinking cider-- tastes good, i love cider. i'm watching the bubbles trail up from the bottom of the glass to the top of the glass. and in the background, there's an argument.

the argument's about me, and whether i should be a candidate in the upcoming election. so a little while ago, dan rogerson, a good friend of mine, reached out and said, "hey, will you be my campaign manager? "i'm going to stand as a parliamentary candidate in the upcoming election." i go, "sure, yeah, i'll do that. i can take some time off work and everything else." he also says there's catch, that there is a county election happening at the same time, so there's 17 candidates for that. so it's 18 candidates that i have to get elected, and i'm thinking, "that's a lot, but i like a challenge. okay, dan, i'm in." so a couple of months later, here's me in the pub listening to the argument, drinking my cider-- i love that cider. and dan stands up and says, "i've decided-- eric is gonna be the paper candidate." "wt does a paper candidate mean?" you say. fair question. it means that i'm not intending to win. we're 15 points behind, we have no activists in the area, and so it'll be hard to deliver leaflets and everything else. so it's not gonna happen.

i'm just gonna be a paper candidate. we also need it, because it's one of the counties inside dan's constituency. and we need to make sure dan is represented in each of those areas. so it's how it staed-- i'm a candidate, but my main job is to be the campaign manager for those 18 people, including myself. so i tell my friends a couple of hours later, you know, this is what's happeng, this is where we are. "i'm gonna be a candidate, too," and they go, "what? you as a politician? you're having a laugh!" "yes, it's okay, i'm not gonna win." "oh, but if we come down, we could help you. "we could do whatever your thing you do is, "like, deliver leaflets and talk to people. we could do that." i said, "no, you don't need to do that. i'm not gonna win, it's okay at i don't want win." myriends are not so good at listening to me. so one by one, they start appearing at the local train station, i come pick them up, because it's kind of countryside. like, there's distance with everything. you have to drive everywhere, and eventually, in my 200-square-foot apartment, i have five people hanging out, sleeping,

and every single day, they're knocking on doors, they're delivering leaflets to get dan and i elected. and i say to them, "i'm feeling guilty about this." like, "i don't want you working so hard to get me elected. "like, go out and enjoy the beaches or the cornish cream teas or some good cider." they don't kind of listen to me and they work hard. so at one point, me and dan are out in newquay north, so this area that i am standing is newquay north, so it's a part of the town of newquay. we're knocking on doors and people areecognizing dan. that's awesome. we're doing a good job. but they're also starting to recognize me. so occasionally, i'm out knocking on doors myself or delivering leaflets, and people start telling me their stories, li whether it be a story about a problem with the local school or a problem about the local bus services being cut. and some grannies need those to get to local shops. they won't to walk all the way. so, i'm listening to that, i'm thinking, "hm." now, i'm a software engineer by trade. i love solving problems. and the more complex they get, the more i want to solve them.

and there's one occasion that i walk up, and knock on a door, and hear... (imitating woman): "come in!" and i walk in, and i'm surrounded by grannies! they have all these different types of cakes, and i think, "what have i walked into?" and then one of the grannies said, "oh, you're eric! "you're that candidate for county council!" "yep, i am." "you could do a cake competition! you could judge which is the best cake." and they all stare at me, and i think, "this is a trap." so, one by one, i taste each of their cakes. they're great-- there's a chocolate one, there's one with raisins and currants, there's one with cherries, there's one with nuts. i like the crunchy ones. and i say, "these are all good qualities." and one of the grannies said, "you'll be a great politician. you didn't answer the question, 'which is the best?'" "and nor shall i," i say. they like me either way, and they say they're going toote for me and as i walk from there, i think, "oh, god, i love this place. "i love the people.

i want to solve these problems." so my father, just so you know, he's british-- stiff upper lip, you know, tough. my mother, she's argentinean-- flamboyant, artistic, and she falls in love with things hard. i'm kind of falling in love with newquay. but now i have a job back at london. i need to pay off debts. i can't do this. but i kind of want to do it. months later, we're still campaigning, we've finished off. it's now election day, and i'm in a gym. inside the gym, there's 18 election counts going on. votes are being counted, whether people got the x in the right box, or whether it's just outside. people arguing about, is this a vote for this person or not? and i'm paying attention to dan rogerson's campaign. i want to make sure that he gets elected, and if i can, get all the other ones elected. now, i have a good friend george. george is mischievous, he has a twinkle in his eye, and he sidles up to me. he says, "it's close."

i said, "they're all close. they're all looking good." he goes, "no, your election's close." "how close?" "40, 50 votes." "oof... "but i'm losing, yeah? it's okay, i'm losing." "no, you're winning." and i'm thinking, "do i want this? "am i good enough for this? the other candidate's good, too." later, george comes back and said it was so close, there's a recount. huh... i should say, days after the election are surreal. you're exhausted. you've done 16- to 18-hour days. and you're now saying thank you to all the voters. you're saying thank you to the volunteers. you're cleaning up the signs. you're doing the campaign finances. i went to cornwall to win 18 elections, and we won 17. anone of them we won by 48 votes. mine. so i'm staying in cornwall. i'm going to help those grannies. i'm going to solve their problems as much as i can.

and so, for the next three years, i work as a politician in a beautiful place in cornwall called newquay north.

■ (uplting mus)