A cold day in February.I am 30 years old.
My boyfriend, Jeremy, and I have been engaged for 6 months, a decision we made based on much implicit hope amid an explicit expression of confidence in one another. That cold morning, the hope that America was on the verge of a sea change coupled with the confidence of a speaker about to take the stage in Springfield were soon to affect the day-to-day actions of a million or more Americans. I sat on my couch, in the front room of our Chicago apartment, with a cup of coffee and a basket of laundry to fold. There was the dry, white dust of winter outside...coating Wilson Avenue and the empty branches of our landlords' well-manicured, if about 3 square foot, front patch of nature.
I sat down, took a sip of the locally-roasted Sumatra that had become our favorite and began to fold clothes, still warm and scented with comfort. The anticipation with which I had spent my morning preparing for this moment was minimal, but I knew I wanted to tune in and watch Barack Obama's outdoor speech to be given from the Old Capitol Square. I wanted to watch while he was giving it and not just see snippets in some later news coverage. In fact, I had seriously considered making the 3.5-4 hour trip to Springfield so that I could be there in person but the Chicago winter was up to its usual tricks and as such, so was I...only leaving the house if I absolutely had no choice. This often meant resorting to eating leftover pasta and mixing up long-forgotten packets of Swiss Miss. It was usually worth it to avoid the bone-chilling dry cold that seeps out of Chicago's white-gray sky for a good 1-5 months of every winter. This time, though, I would find myself wishing I had distanced myself a bit from the season's complacency and taken a thermos of coffee out on the road.
Barack Obama took the stage, amid a crowd who had been braver than I. His voice began to ring out through the crackly, winter air. I spent a lot of time in Springfield while I was growing up and that, coupled with my interest in the Senator since his election and his speech at the DNC in 2004 made this speech of special interest to me. My parents are farmers in mid-western Illinois where I spent my childhood. Since then, I have traded the wide open spaces replete with corn fields and and gardens for the cramped city sidewalks of Chicago. At the same time, though, my awareness of the world and level of experience within it has grown exponentially thanks to 13 years here in the windy city. While it was widely assumed Senator Obama would be announcing his candidacy for the presidency of the United States, I did not know for certain. This was another stumbling block to actually getting out of the house early enough that morning to make it mid-state...and it IS mid-state as opposed to downstate, much to the disbelief of many a Chicago friend.
He is an eloquent speaker and the fact that this skill has since been levied against him in arguments that he is somehow "elitist" continues to baffle me. I was drawn into the speech early and soon found myself tearing up as my coffee went cold and my basket of clothes lost its 'downy freshness.' I remember feeling like something very ALIVE was happening. I felt that a nation, much of which was in the middle of a long winter, was being given a chance to embrace the kind of hope that would transcend seasons and would encourage active participation in the world throughout one's life. I cried a lot that morning as I thought about the words of the Senator. He did eventually get around to announcing his candidacy but more than that, he encouraged everyone watching to begin an active engagement with his or her own community, and to come along, on the journey that lay ahead, with him. He confidently spoke of the hope that exists in this country and he called it out in each one of us.
While I am by no means an apathetic citizen, I would not consider myself an activist or expertly engaged in the politics of the world either. That morning in February, as I looked out at the hoary sidewalk, the fissured air, I knew I had to try harder; I wanted to be a better citizen.
I signed up at barackobama.com to begin receiving emails from the campaign and began talking to my friends and family about this Senator from Illinois who, really, was from so many places. The next chunk of months were fairly packed with planning my wedding though Barack Obama's books on CD became the soundtrack to every trip Jeremy and I took...to just outside Galesburg, IL where we would be married at a beautiful, old Civil War-era barn; to Indiana to visit Jeremy's extended family and now, mine too; to my parents' farm just outside Macomb, IL and to Arkansas to visit Jeremy's parents who had moved there from Indiana a few years back. We interspersed them with music and radio but they were the reason I wanted to get back in the car and continue the journey. Now that he has been elected, I do hope more people will pick them up and give them a listen or perhaps even read them. While I usually prefer reading a book to hearing it, there is something important to be said for the fact that he is the narrator of his own story on these CDs and quite a talented one at that.
It wasn't until well into the primaries that I was able to commit a little more time to the campaign. Perhaps I had been holding back, too, because, even though I was moved to tears and a hopefulness I had not previously felt, I was worried that my emotions were running away with my intellect. I never thought Obama's plan would diverge greatly from my own beliefs but I had not yet had the time to look things over as closely as I would have liked. I liked the big messages coming out of the campaign while I winced a bit when it got a little too ugly - on both sides - between the Clinton and Obama campaigns. I had a "good feeling" about Obama but I am far too analytical a person to let that alone drive my decision to support him fully. So, I did start doing some research, and that, along with having listened to his books, got me to the point where I felt confident enough to start spreading the word a bit more actively. I ordered buttons and made buttons; I signed multiple petitions requesting an honest and intelligent campaign from all sides; I replied to email forwards full of smear and fear from some of my family members with messages asking people to do some research on their own and I replied TO ALL; I encouraged my like-minded friends to take a little action whenever they had time; I smiled at people on the street.
I attended the late August rally in Springfield when Obama announced his running mate would be Joe Biden. It was hot, it was crowded, and there was very little water to be found. Some people even passed out, but everyone around those individuals immediately pitched in when they saw what was happening. It became ever so clear to me that part of our role as citizens should be to take the best care of ourselves that we can, in an effort to be able to take care of others when they needed it. It was difficult to see the stage at all once we got into the actual square but people were pointing out to others where to look so they might catch a glimpse; they were squatting down to give those behind them a moment's view; they were talking to each other and sharing stories. They were young and old and of various races, creeds, religions and sexual orientations. That day was suffused with the humidity of a mid-western summer and it was often difficult to breathe. The sun bore through every cloud in the sky and people were holding any extra pieces of clothing above their heads for a bit of shade. But most of the faces I saw were joyous and so happy to be there.
The final few months before the election brought with them a massive email effort by the Obama campaign to get its volunteers involved. Everyday, I had anywhere from 1-5 emails from David Plouffe, or Michelle Obama, or Joe Biden or Barack himself. Yes, they did ask for money but they also asked for action and they thanked those who did take things on and who got their friends and families involved. The organization of their website was such that it was very easy to find events and people near you. There were multiple ways to become involved whether you were willing and able to travel to a nearby state to knock on doors or you could only make calls from your living room. I hosted calling parties and organized/drove a couple of groups to Indiana (way to go, IN!) over the next few months. I stopped in at a nearby Democratic Party Office and made buttons, attended trainings and got hold of signs for my windows and bumper. The fact that people could actively take part from home meant that multiple excuses for not being more engaged had just been eliminated. And, if you really were too busy, for whatever reason, you could part with some dough to make yourself feel a bit better. These often small but often repeat donations contributed to the Obama campaign's continuous ability to raise dizzying amounts of money. They could then make and run more and more relatively positive television commercials, some of which were 30 seconds, one that was 30 minutes, in length and aired in prime time. History, to beat a dead horse and use a fairly disgusting animal analogy, was being made.
The trips to Indiana, the phone bank parties, the button making gatherings...they made me feel as though I was actually doing something but they also connected me with people in a new way. I met people I did not know before with whom I will likely work again, and I re-met people who were my good friends. We talked about things and in ways that felt new. I have always been one to take my friendships quite seriously and to hold them to a higher level of connection than what I see represented in much of mainstream media. Even still, engaging in these efforts together and discussing them led to a significant deepening of those relationships.
Walking the streets of Chesterton and Portage, Indiana, we met many people we will likely not see again and we connected with them too. We were lucky enough to be there on days that were gorgeously autumnal. The hot sun of that August day in Springfield was long gone and the waning warmth of change's most glorious season was upon us. A man mowing the lawn at the house of some voters on our list who were not home approached us and was happy to take what we had to pass onto them. Then, he engaged us in a discussion of his own registration, and, through the teeth that remained in his mouth, though badly in need of dental care, he described his hope for change. He said he knew it could be different, though he had spent the first 38 or so years of his life not believing that his vote might count for something; that his hope might become reality someday. Children smiled at us and became giddy when they saw our shirts...something was happening...people were in their neighborhood who did not live there and who were not preaching fear or damnation...these same people were smiling at them and talking to their mothers about how we can all work toward a change that might result in health care for their family. Cars would stop in the street when they saw our Obama shirts or pins and ask for one of the door hangers we were carrying around with us, reminding people where their polling place was. Even though it wasn't exactly the polling place of the person asking, they wanted a memento of their vote for change.
Of course, we, too, ran into those who said, "No, thank you" and closed the door quickly. We had some discussions - good discussions - with the occasional undecided voter, whose eyes were hopeful if a bit unsure. Perhaps what struck me most during these outings was the difference between the overall energy of the Obama supporters and that of the folks who would admit to us they were supporting McCain. There was a glint of triumph, of long-forgotten freedom in the eyes of those who asked, "How is it going anyway?" and "Where can I find information to share with my friends who are concerned about this or that issue?" There was the lilt of youthfulness in the voices of those who shouted from their living rooms, "Yes, I voted for him already!" on the day we went to get out the vote. Those who were undecided were curious. Even as some of them asked about Obama's supposed connection to "terrorists", their voices belied a greater inquiry...a hopeful wondering about what could be. They needed to see it, too, in the eyes of this person standing at their door; they needed to know that others who were, perhaps, very much like them also believed that America was not lost or nearly as complacent as most mass television and radio make it out to be.
The McCain supporters, some of whom admitted they may not even vote, had been beaten down by life, to be sure. Their voices fell like heavy, slow rain full of exhaustion, and sometimes illness. Their eyes held none of the vigorous intention I am lucky enough to be surrounded by at my workplace in Chicago; their spirits seemed too overwhelmed to even look at me straight on. Of course, I know there were folks who supported the Republican ticket this time who did feel inspired - I saw them on television and heard them on the radio. But, rarely did I hear much about why or how they had become involved themselves. I would like to hear their stories and I hope that, moving forward, there will be more public discussion to this end. I want to know how others are reflecting on the issues that affect them and their families and what they are doing to be sure things are moving in a positive direction; it seems vitally important to a truly healthy democracy. Over the past many months, I hoped to hear a single argument that would help me understand why this was going to be such a close election. Indeed, the issues of abortion and gay marriage must be considered and I suppose, when it comes down to it, they, along with, perhaps, race were the issues on which most McCain supporters did decide. If I am vastly wrong here, I will admit it but I have yet to see or hear much evidence to the contrary. Maybe this is a "liberal media bias" but my gut tells me it is because there were not many issues beyond those based on some level of intolerance that informed the decisions of those voters.
Upon our return to Chicago after the November 4 Get Out the Vote canvass trip, I was exhausted but had been lucky enough to score a ticket to the rally in Grant Park. Jeremy and I decided we had to go though memories of the physically uncomfortable aspects of being at the Springfield rally lingered in our minds. It was a beautiful day...unseasonably warm so that staying inside on such a night did seem somehow wrong in and of itself. We drove to within about 4 miles of the park and then, hopped on the el, thinking that if we needed to, we could actually walk all the way back to our car whereas we could not feasibly walk the 11 miles to our home in Rogers Park. I am not a fan of crowds and especially hate to be pressed up against others in a small electric train car. This said, when we arrived at our stop, and entered the mass of people heading toward the park, I found myself feeling surprisingly comfortable. People were giving other people room, for the most part. People were much less pushy than usual. As over 100,000 people converged on a park by the lake, the energy there was of a common hope and a pure joy. We passed entrepreneurs on the streets selling all manner of Obama swag. Children excitedly turned to their parents in the hopes of getting lifted up to see a bit more of the scene. Old men and women sat and stood, their faces full of the years and their eyes, having seen so much, here to see something they never thought they would. Much as the crowd in Springfield, the diversity was astounding.
We arrived just as Ohio was being called for Obama and while we were far from the front of the stage, we could see the jumbo-tron screens where they were broadcasting CNN's coverage sufficiently and I could tell, in general, where Obama was slated to stand. I knew I wouldn't be able to see him. It soon hit me that the real reason I was here, though, was to see those who were all around me and I turned around slowly, in a complete circle, more than a few times just to soak it all in as best I could through my fairly frequent tears. Before we knew it, the words appeared on the screens floating, it seemed, high above us..."President-Elect Obama." Collectively, a gasp. Smiles and small cheers started to bubble up around us but no one was sure they wanted to submit to believing it just yet...they didn't want to celebrate and then, have to take it back. They wanted to be sure this was for real. Within 5 minutes or so, though, it was impossible to contain ourselves, and when it was announced that John McCain was about to make his way to the stage in Arizona where he would presumably concede, everyone, I am fairly certain, responded. Some smiled knowingly as tears flowed down their cheeks; others jumped up and down and high-fived those in the vicinity; some actually fell to their knees and spontaneous cheers of "Yes We Can" made their way through the night's cool air.
As McCain's image came onto the screen and he approached a podium surrounded by his supporters, the crowd soon stifled outbursts of "Goodbye" and "No More Bush" to quiet down and listen. McCain's speech that night reminded me of why I had respected the man quite a bit during and before the 2004 election. He appeared human and warm; his words seemed to come from his heart. I overheard one man near me say, "In some world, I might have considered voting for that man...that man did not run this campaign." Excepting only a couple of outbursts to the contrary, the crowd listened intently to McCain and gave him the respect due a man who I do believe, at his core, loves this country though the manner in which his campaign was run belied a near unforgivable disrespect of many of the things for which it stands. It was telling to hear the crowd who stood before McCain, in Arizona, booing when he congratulated Obama on his win. I can only express my fervent hope that those McCain voters watching from home, all across the country, were not represented well by the crowd that appeared before me on the big screen.
Soon, the festivities on the stage that lie a few hundred feet from me began. There was an invocation, a recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance, a performance of The Star Spangled Banner and the introduction of the 44th President of the United States. As Obama approached the podium, the crowd cheered exultantly...and then they turned their gaze, expectantly, to wherever their best view lie. Quiet fell as night descended further on this crisp, clean Fall evening. Barack's voice rang out across the field. Friends squeezed each other's hands; couples wrapped their arms around one another; parents held their children and all ears were on that voice.
As he spoke, it was clear that he had been through a lot since that February morning over a year and a half ago...the gravity of his voice weighed a bit more though the spirit of his words, also, was a bit more deeply evident. He had been a boy without the presence of his father and he had been a child who was not the same color as his mother. He had worked hard and indeed had come a long way even before this campaign began. He was a father and a husband and seemingly good at both. But the past 21 months were tough...not only for him but for the one million volunteers who worked for him, some more tirelessly than even he could likely imagine. That experience showed on his face as he called upon those gathered, and those watching, all across America, who had voted for or against him, to help him. He appeared absolutely humble; and, unlike most celebrities in the world, very human. His words did not feel like so much rhetoric. They also did not mean that way but the fact of their feel was, to me, exceptional. Many Americans have become disillusioned with politics and the discussion of such topics as the economy, energy independence and health care over the past years. Those terms are tossed around like pieces on a chess board, but rarely does anyone listening to them, or often even speaking them consider, specifically, how he or she might make an effort toward effecting some change with regard to that which the words actually refer.
I believe that the way in which Obama's campaign utilized and inspired so many volunteers to work on its behalf is in the process of translating that action to these issues and more. Since that night, I have already heard from a few people asking me, because they knew I had been involved even just a little bit in the campaign, about ways in which they might get more involved in something as we move forward. This IS a sea change, as far as I am concerned. It is easy to be complacent in this country and while that is, in many ways, a testament to its past successes, it is not much of a promise to its future.
The President-Elect made his way, eloquently and inspired, through the speech that fell on the ears of so many who had worked on his behalf in recent months. He called upon those who were listening to join him and to join one another. The crowd cheered wildly and celebrated with one another out into the streets. A mass of people like I've never seen took to Michigan Avenue and walked, in the middle of both sides of the street. Police were stationed throughout the park and all along the streets that night...they were a good presence, and while they did not engage in the celebration, I did see smiles creep across the faces of more than a few. No one I interacted with directly seemed to have been high or drunk or stimulated by anything stronger than hope and joy though I'm sure there were at least a few folks who had their drugs of choice with them. I only mention this to point up the fact that the feeling pressed to the pavement and lifted to the skyline that night felt extremely pure. There were pockets of calm - moments when everyone seemed to be reflecting, and then, as we walked together, past Van Buren and Jackson, Adams and Monroe, there were waves of cheering and dancing and music-making. There was flag waving and hugging and singing as we moved, en masse, calmly and safely toward our homes and our future.
I am hopeful and indeed, fairly confident that the generations who have just dipped their toes into the pool of political and community involvement this year, will remember the way it felt. I want them to be swept up in a wave of emotion so great that they are not only compelled, but are purely happy to join a campaign, or to engage in the lives of the youth in their community. or to write to their congressperson, or to plant a garden with their neighbors, or to read to their children. I want them to FEEL involved and BE a part of things. I want them to seek out the information that they need to be informed so that, beyond that great emotion, their actions are based in an intelligent and even-handed assessment of the issues that surround them, and that will inform their futures as well as those of their children, and, if a bit presumptuously, their children's children.
A warm day in November.
I am 31 years old.
Barack Obama is my President.
