Fruition…

“There is a freshness to the air, this morning….” These words began an email from a friend, whose status as an Irish expatriate rendered him unable to vote, but no less concerned with the outcome.

Our daily wake-up call, and the question I was eager to answer, greeted as expected, by juvenile shouts of joy. And his exuberance; as he detailed his plans to enlighten his middle-school friends with, “I told you so…” The image of a visage, flush with responsibility prompted my cautionary tone, as I encouraged my son to enjoy the victory quietly and gracefully, with a sense of community.

And, the ensuing, excited text message, “My bus-driver is mad. The kids are yelling “Obama”, but I didn’t do it. She says we can’t talk until Tuesday.” And, my answer, “Thank you, honey. I love you.”

The sob-clouded voice of a local radio DJ, openly wearing the label “Lesbian” in hopes that others like her will find un-closeted comfort, describing her reaction to his words of inclusion;

“It’s the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Hispanic, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled.”

A friend’s exuberant voice over my headset, as he describes a recent conversation, fraught with “pregnant pauses”, with his McCain-supporting brother, and the grace he was proud to offer.

The long-legged stride into my office, by a Republican hard-liner wearing a forced smile above his alligator-embossed shirt, and his cheery “Congratulations!”. And, as I swivel, my response;

“And, to you, too!”

“Oh, you mean the senatorial race…”

“No! I mean, you are an American, too. This is a great day for all Americans!”

And, an email from a Dutch friend, followed by a message from a German friend:

“Indeed it is true: in the USA fairy tales can come to reality!
We watched our TV during this night and early morning: of course CNN, but also 2 of our Dutch stations had a full-covering 9 (!) hours programme of the results of your election (what illustrates that not only “the Americans” were interested in the outcome).
We are so happy with the clear outcome: it will be Obama for the next 4 years. No doubtful 49.5 % versus 50.5 % but a huge non-arguable victory for Obama!
We sincerely hope, that he (and his administration) will soon get the opportuinity to show that he (they) can do better than your today’s president. Not only for the benifit of your country, but also for the other “inhabitants” of our world.”

“Hi, thaaank you for this mail after talking with us. You know me thinking like you! – and one of these days I will come over to meet you, so stay healthy and in good condition, so are my wishes for you. We got up this morning at 4 am to bring Marlen to the airport sur looking to the TV to see that B. Obama made it – that made us lucky and happy. This will be very important for your country and the relationship again between USA and Germany! (that`s what I want to come up again after these long 8 last years.) Marlen should be between GB and your continent, we two tried not to be sad like all these times but like ever we didn`t really made it.”

And, the artificially-cooled memory of watching, with interest, an aged black man, whose love for my father thwarted a punishing sun, as he withdrew remnants of the previous night’s dinner from a grease-stained brown paper sack while he perched on our back stoop.

And, Kathy. As integration creeped slowly into the deep south, we were bussed across town to a new elementary school. Kathy had skin the color of creamed coffee surrounding snapping dark chocolate eyes. It was difficult for me to understand why something as simple as skin pigment could render a person “less than”, and I defied my mother’s admonitions right up until the day we moved away from the city. Understanding, through experience, came easier to Kathy. I never heard her voice, again.

“Four years ago, I stood before you and told you my story, of the brief union between a young man from Kenya and a young woman from Kansas who weren’t well-off or well-known, but shared a belief that in America their son could achieve whatever he put his mind to.
It is that promise that’s always set this country apart, that through hard work and sacrifice each of us can pursue our individual dreams, but still come together as one American family, to ensure that the next generation can pursue their dreams, as well. That’s why I stand here tonight. Because for 232 years, at each moment when that promise was in jeopardy, ordinary men and women — students and soldiers, farmers and teachers, nurses and janitors — found the courage to keep it alive.”

The Journey

I am discriminating. I can be hard to please. I am slow to trust, as years of failed promises have left me skeptical. I have to remind myself, sometimes, to see the light hiding behind the darker surface. I tend to set very high standards for those who would court my trust. I want answers, answers that make sense, and I do my homework.

The last two presidential elections were, for me, at best, painful, and, at worst, devastating. In my opinion, George W. Bush’s shortcomings are plain for anyone to see, and his cabinet, nothing less than dangerous. Sadly, the Democratic Party failed to offer up a reasonable alternative, and though I voted for the man I considered the one less dangerous, I did so half-heartedly, at best. My reticence, however, did nothing to appease my disappointment and embarrassment in our electorate.

The 2004 election was particularly hard to swallow. John Kerry was not an exciting, or even hopeful choice, but the alternative was unthinkable. Our country had been in free-fall for four years and every misstep I had ever imagined, combined with those no one could ever have foreseen, to create a recipe for disaster; and still, many eagerly vied for a place at the table.

I remember dark hours immediately following the election, and the utter hopelessness filling those days. I remember sleepless nights punctuated by tears of frustration, and I remember my decision. In the fall of 2004, after America spoke, I made the decision to disconnect. I turned off my television and changed my pre-sets. Top-forty radio, instead of National Public Radio, now fueled my commute. Novels replaced the newspaper at lunch, and a click to my homepage now revealed carefully crafted, voluminous lines of internet jokes, sent to me by my former mother-in-law. Life lessons, and the accompanying character traits, had taught me how to insulate; to protect.

As you might expect, I was slow to board, as our most current election geared up…

Rudy Giuliani, and his handling of one of the most traumatic events in American history, warranted a second look. Arrogance killed his candidacy, early on.

Mitt Romney showed promise. As a businessman, he had shown remarkable financial acumen, and even two years ago, as those in the know began to scrawl upon the wall, I could see the merits of that trait. Honor, though, and party loyalty prevailed, as he threw in the towel in order to increase the chances of his party rival.

And, then there were three…

In 2004, I pinned my hopes on one John McCain, still, at that time, a true maverick. Karl Rove had other plans. Most of us easily saw through the allegations of impropriety surrounding the ethnicity of McCain’s daughter, completely unaware of backroom negotiations which would ensure McCain’s exit, leaving Mr. Rove’s candidate alone on the Republican ticket. In my despair, I looked forward to 2008, when “Maverick” could ride, again.

The face was the same; the voice familiar. The rhetoric, however, markedly changed. Need had removed the teeth from his message, and the 2008 incarnation of John McCain in no way resembled the man I once admired. Desperately, I turned to the other side of the aisle…

A feminist at heart, I really wanted to support Hillary. Admittedly, her handling of her husband’s repeated infidelities had left a sour taste in my mouth, but it was her shrill rhetoric that provided a barrier I could not jump. I listened, eagerly, for meaningful words that would invoke confidence, or even hope, and heard, instead, the cry of a fish-monger’s wife. I was not unhappy to see the odds piling against her.

The very idea that a man named “Barack Hussien Obama” would entertain the notion of being elected president of a country wrought with fear labeled “Muslim”, struck me as ludicrous; and I said so, to anyone who would listen. But, as the months ticked by, and his opponents became less and less desirable, I was forced to take a second look.

During this time, a good friend smilingly presented me with an Obama bumper sticker. He didn’t insist; he offered, through a face bright with hope. Feeling bereft of alternative, I accepted the offering, placing it in my carry-all. It rode there, under a succession of lunches, for several weeks, until a bright Saturday morning several weeks ago.

I accompanies me, now, on my commute, as it rides my back right bumper, and, today, the sight of it inspires pride in our journey.

An Intangible Difference

“No other national election has evoked this kind of emotion.”
As a form of explanation, in the heat of the moment, during a discussion of politics, these words rose to the surface, and sat on my tongue, while I considered their veracity. My mind ticked through previous elections. Images grossly akin to Halloween masks, strolled across my mind’s eye; Reagan, Carter, Ford, Clinton, Bush I and II, and I realized I had felt passion for my candidate during each of these contests, as well. The words remain unsaid. And, still, I consider them…and have come believe the words to be true in an intangibly unsettling way.

In years past, my choice of candidate was usually accompanied by a sure feeling of being “right”. As I considered the men running for President, the decision was a simple one, based on my beliefs and life experience.

“Do you want what’s hiding behind curtain “A” or curtain “B”?” Monty Hall’s face leered under a battered fedora as he spun a shiny black cane.

“Curtain “A”!” My voice rang true with the force of my convictions.

“Is that your final answer?” The question came in the form of endless, expensively produced commercials touting the merits of the one not chosen.

“Yes! That is my final answer!” And it was.

This time around, when asked the question, I find my voice wavering as my eyes search a distant point in the room, and my chest fills with a need for hope. And, therein, lies the difference.

The need for hope; not a full-blown, fist-clenching, flag-waving hope, but a need for hope. A look out the yawning door of an airplane, just before the jump, with the sincere desire that the parachute will function when called upon. That first tentative, pitch-black step away from the side of the bed towards the spot on the carpet where the dog might be sleeping. The catch of breath, when the numbers are called, as the ticket shakes inside a needy hand. The look on the face of one beaten down, afraid to trust an outstretched hand.

As my octogenarian friend frequently laments, “I’ve never seen things this bad.”, I realize it’s no wonder so many of us are uncertain. Nothing in our life experience has prepared us for our current condition, and our beliefs have been challenged by almost a decade of half-truths and outright lies told by those in whom we were forced to rely. We are the ones beaten down, afraid to trust.

On Tuesday, I will stand in line for hours, with hundreds of others in search of hope, and the mere presence of the crowd, as I scan it, will invoke these words:

“In God We Trust.”

A True Patriot

We had spent 2 days in a continuous dripping sweat as we toured the injured city of Mobile, Alabama. A climb of “the battleship” as we Southerners like to refer to her followed by a car tour of a hurricane scarred Dauphine Island had left us worn and dehydrated. Unsatisfied after a dip in the hotel pool, we set out on a late night search of the ultimate summertime refreshment, ice cream.
It is a little known fact that your neighborhood Walgreen’s stocks an outrageously tempting freezer full of ice cream treats. We made our selections and returned to the car as quickly as the thick night air would allow us. As the car reversed to leave the parking lot, a window sticker on a neighboring vehicle caught my eye. I starred in wonder at the simple square sticker and insisted my companion circle the parking lot to get a better look. As we approached the other car, I squealed with delight as my second look confirmed what I had originally seen. I pointed and urged my companion to look as well. The sticker was small, about 4 inches square, and black with simple white block print forming a large letter “M”. But this was no ordinary “M”. This was a clever “M”. This was actually a “W” turned upside down. And not just any “W”. This was THE “W”. The one we all saw on the backs of gas guzzling SUVs everywhere during the last election. And beneath the “M” where formerly one might have read “The President.”, this sticker said simply “The Moron.” I was completely enchanted. Not only was the sentiment right on the money but using the moron’s own propaganda against him was nothing short of genius! I decided then and there that I simply must have one. And then I decided I had to have more than one because this was just too good to keep to myself.
The stickers arrived and went from envelope to rear window in a matter of seconds. I took another to a fellow Bush-hater at work. Within hours, a red-faced, trembling, eye-popping Republican, who happens to me our boss was standing at my desk. With much effort, he spit out his displeasure and warned me not to give my co-worker “offensive” stickers for her to “display in her cubicle”. The “display” was the top of her desk where she had lain it in preparation for adhesion to her car.
In relating this story to an aquaintance, I was quickly reprimanded with “Oh, you shouldn’t criticize our leader. Don’t you know that is unpatriotic?” The friend assured me he made this statement in jest, but his statements mirrored those spoken by people like my boss whose ire at merely seeing the sticker rendered him very nearly speechless.
Today I began to think about the concept of patriotism and the definition of a true patriot. Usually when one thinks along this vein, an image like that of Patrick Henry or Samuel Adams appears, unheeded, on the brain. It was that image that revealed to me the irony of our times. Those men, and other leaders of their time, not only spoke out against their leaders, they wrote long treatises detailing their complaints and Ben Franklin was only too happy to print theirs right beside his own in his newspaper. It was through learning about the founders of our country that I formed my idea that a true patriot is patriotic to his country and speaks out against anyone who would do her harm, whether he be leader of not. When did our idea of patriotism shift from allegiance to our motherland to unwavering support of an unelected public official, especially when that public official is bring harm to our homeland?

>A True Patriot

>We had spent 2 days in a continuous dripping sweat as we toured the injured city of Mobile, Alabama. A climb of “the battleship” as we Southerners like to refer to her followed by a car tour of a hurricane scarred Dauphine Island had left us worn and dehydrated. Unsatisfied after a dip in the hotel pool, we set out on a late night search of the ultimate summertime refreshment, ice cream.
It is a little known fact that your neighborhood Walgreen’s stocks an outrageously tempting freezer full of ice cream treats. We made our selections and returned to the car as quickly as the thick night air would allow us. As the car reversed to leave the parking lot, a window sticker on a neighboring vehicle caught my eye. I starred in wonder at the simple square sticker and insisted my companion circle the parking lot to get a better look. As we approached the other car, I squealed with delight as my second look confirmed what I had originally seen. I pointed and urged my companion to look as well. The sticker was small, about 4 inches square, and black with simple white block print forming a large letter “M”. But this was no ordinary “M”. This was a clever “M”. This was actually a “W” turned upside down. And not just any “W”. This was THE “W”. The one we all saw on the backs of gas guzzling SUVs everywhere during the last election. And beneath the “M” where formerly one might have read “The President.”, this sticker said simply “The Moron.” I was completely enchanted. Not only was the sentiment right on the money but using the moron’s own propaganda against him was nothing short of genius! I decided then and there that I simply must have one. And then I decided I had to have more than one because this was just too good to keep to myself.
The stickers arrived and went from envelope to rear window in a matter of seconds. I took another to a fellow Bush-hater at work. Within hours, a red-faced, trembling, eye-popping Republican, who happens to me our boss was standing at my desk. With much effort, he spit out his displeasure and warned me not to give my co-worker “offensive” stickers for her to “display in her cubicle”. The “display” was the top of her desk where she had lain it in preparation for adhesion to her car.
In relating this story to an aquaintance, I was quickly reprimanded with “Oh, you shouldn’t criticize our leader. Don’t you know that is unpatriotic?” The friend assured me he made this statement in jest, but his statements mirrored those spoken by people like my boss whose ire at merely seeing the sticker rendered him very nearly speechless.
Today I began to think about the concept of patriotism and the definition of a true patriot. Usually when one thinks along this vein, an image like that of Patrick Henry or Samuel Adams appears, unheeded, on the brain. It was that image that revealed to me the irony of our times. Those men, and other leaders of their time, not only spoke out against their leaders, they wrote long treatises detailing their complaints and Ben Franklin was only too happy to print theirs right beside his own in his newspaper. It was through learning about the founders of our country that I formed my idea that a true patriot is patriotic to his country and speaks out against anyone who would do her harm, whether he be leader of not. When did our idea of patriotism shift from allegiance to our motherland to unwavering support of an unelected public official, especially when that public official is bring harm to our homeland?