The comments below are from Jean - my second Mom. Her oldest daughter and I have been friends for 50 years as of 2009 and her impact upon my life has been substantial. It is wonderful to know that this intelligent woman choose to be an active participant in our journey to elect Barack Obama.
I love you, Jean!
Memory is not one of my best skills these latter years, but I remember a few highlights of the ups and downs.
When attending a group I'm in, InnerPeace/WorldPeace, I realized that many high moments before the election were when I was calling people in Colorado, Wisconsin and Ohio, and talked with many young people. It was thrilling to me to hear them talking so excitedly about planning to fill their cars with voters, or picking up an older person who needed a ride. Wow, so different from other elections, when people didn't feel so involved. Praise to Barack--his unifying qualities and the values that come through his words.
On the joy-full side. At the end of the Saturday morning meeting of my favorite group, InnerPeace/WorldPeace, one of my favorite men came around the table to me and spread his arms for a wonderful, juicy, big hug. Such joy, relief after we knew the results, happiness, hope-- all bundled up in a wonderful, earth-shaking hug.
On the tear-full side. I believe my most tears fell for several days when I saw the facial/emotional responses of the crowds of people--especially the close-ups of some of the older African-American folk. When I feel emotionally connected with persons, or see real connection between others, my tears and "innards" just respond meaningfully. I'm grateful for those moments.
Thanks for encouraging our self-expression. Tis important...
Yes it is :)
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
From Mary - Reflections on Election Day 2008
Mary is really to blame for my involvement in the campaign. I met her a couple of months ago as a result of my networking process (part of my business development). She is Executive Director of a large and influential nonprofit organization in Milwaukee. At the time she mentioned that she was volunteering with the Obama campaign and we talked a bit about why it seemed so important to her. Her son was a field organizer - a bright, young man who like hundreds of thousands (if not millions) of other young people, had inspired his mother to be involved. Thanks, Mary - for the push to care about my children's future and the man who would be their President...
From Mary:
The campaign had incredible discipline. In mid October I said to my son (and a field organizer), “I not canvassing this weekend. Colleen (my daughter) is getting married in eight days and Barack is up by 10 in the polls.” Without missing a beat, Tyler told me, “Wash your mouth out with soap. You can take the weekend off because of the wedding, but it has nothing to do with the polls.”
From my vantage point, the campaign behaved the same at all times— it consistently ran as if it were losing. It did what it planned on any given day regardless of whether it was 10 points up or 10 points down (except more volunteers would show up when it was down). In fact, the campaign in Milwaukee ran as if it were losing until the polls closed on election night.
I returned to the field office from a day of working “Get out the Vote” in high spirits. It was 5:10 p.m. and I was ready to head home, do a few errands, and get ready to watch the returns. But as I walked inside the door, the somber mood was palpable. One of the volunteers turned to me and explained, “we hit our numbers in this office, but statewide turnout is lower than expected which bodes poorly for Obama. We are going to be reassigned in the field. We are waiting for orders." I found my son and he asked if I would stay the night. “Of course” was the only answer.”
He handed me a list of phone numbers of volunteers who may have missed a scheduled shift. “Call and ask if they can come in now.” One by one, I started dialing the numbers on the list but at 5:45 the orders changed. The office was closing, volunteers were asked to move up to the Second Street office. I quickly gathered up boxes of uneaten pizza and jumped in the car and drove the 15 minutes to Second Street.
The volunteers welcomed the pizza and started training us for “poll line management”---how to encourage the voters in line to stay there until they voted. I helped one staff person map out poll locations and assign volunteers. Oops - an important message from HQ. Don’t leave the office, wait for further instructions. While you’re waiting assemble into groups of two to four. We paced, chatted, went to the restroom and wondered if anything we could do now would really make a difference. But we were down to the wire and no one would walk out now.
And then the final order. Shake the bushes, knock on doors, ring door bells, find those have not voted, get down on you knees if need be. Get that person to the polls.
My group drove downtown and parked on the lower east side. We divided into pairs. My partner was a lawyer and impassioned Obama supporter without any canvassing experience who was very uneasy with our assignment. I assured him that we could do this for an hour and with the right spirit we would have fun.
But the first two or three groups of people we met on the street were not citizens. Several individuals ignored us or told us to get lost. This was dismal. We decided to walk through Metro Market. “Have you voted today?" we asked the shoppers. Each one smiled back and said yes. We found a small group watching election returns in the café. Two middle aged men told me they had not voted, were not registered and had no intention of voting. I got down on one knee and they turned their attention back to the TV.
At 7:59 we reconnected with our team. And at 8:01, the media called Wisconsin. And quite frankly, there was no better place to be at that moment than with the die hard, kick ass to the last moment Obama team.
From Mary:
The campaign had incredible discipline. In mid October I said to my son (and a field organizer), “I not canvassing this weekend. Colleen (my daughter) is getting married in eight days and Barack is up by 10 in the polls.” Without missing a beat, Tyler told me, “Wash your mouth out with soap. You can take the weekend off because of the wedding, but it has nothing to do with the polls.”
From my vantage point, the campaign behaved the same at all times— it consistently ran as if it were losing. It did what it planned on any given day regardless of whether it was 10 points up or 10 points down (except more volunteers would show up when it was down). In fact, the campaign in Milwaukee ran as if it were losing until the polls closed on election night.
I returned to the field office from a day of working “Get out the Vote” in high spirits. It was 5:10 p.m. and I was ready to head home, do a few errands, and get ready to watch the returns. But as I walked inside the door, the somber mood was palpable. One of the volunteers turned to me and explained, “we hit our numbers in this office, but statewide turnout is lower than expected which bodes poorly for Obama. We are going to be reassigned in the field. We are waiting for orders." I found my son and he asked if I would stay the night. “Of course” was the only answer.”
He handed me a list of phone numbers of volunteers who may have missed a scheduled shift. “Call and ask if they can come in now.” One by one, I started dialing the numbers on the list but at 5:45 the orders changed. The office was closing, volunteers were asked to move up to the Second Street office. I quickly gathered up boxes of uneaten pizza and jumped in the car and drove the 15 minutes to Second Street.
The volunteers welcomed the pizza and started training us for “poll line management”---how to encourage the voters in line to stay there until they voted. I helped one staff person map out poll locations and assign volunteers. Oops - an important message from HQ. Don’t leave the office, wait for further instructions. While you’re waiting assemble into groups of two to four. We paced, chatted, went to the restroom and wondered if anything we could do now would really make a difference. But we were down to the wire and no one would walk out now.
And then the final order. Shake the bushes, knock on doors, ring door bells, find those have not voted, get down on you knees if need be. Get that person to the polls.
My group drove downtown and parked on the lower east side. We divided into pairs. My partner was a lawyer and impassioned Obama supporter without any canvassing experience who was very uneasy with our assignment. I assured him that we could do this for an hour and with the right spirit we would have fun.
But the first two or three groups of people we met on the street were not citizens. Several individuals ignored us or told us to get lost. This was dismal. We decided to walk through Metro Market. “Have you voted today?" we asked the shoppers. Each one smiled back and said yes. We found a small group watching election returns in the café. Two middle aged men told me they had not voted, were not registered and had no intention of voting. I got down on one knee and they turned their attention back to the TV.
At 7:59 we reconnected with our team. And at 8:01, the media called Wisconsin. And quite frankly, there was no better place to be at that moment than with the die hard, kick ass to the last moment Obama team.
From Karen - Reflections on a New Generation of Voters
I was a poll worker all day, registering new voters or voters who had moved since the last election. One of the special experiences for me was registering two young folks who were born to friends 19 years ago. They were so excited about voting for the first time. I thought about how many elections I've lived through, working for McGovern, being so disillusioned with the Clinton's, watching Carter swallowed by D.C. politics, and in general, the dirty tactics that became so refined with the Republicans. I thought about all the young people, like my niece in North Carolina, who worked Obama's campaign and how magnificent it must be for them to win. I wonder if they can ever truly appreciate this event.
Monday, November 10, 2008
Story from New Mexico
My good friend Darby, (this is from my daughter, Jennifer's friend) who lives in Albuquerque, had this to contribute:
I have been eligible to vote in three presidential elections now. Election day in our household is a holiday with roughly the same importance as Thanksgiving. My husband and I get up in the morning and go vote, holding hands as we walk to our precincts voting booth. We then vote, beaming like idiots, and walk home, hand in hand. The work day is truly a challenge, how can you pay attention to returning phone calls and pleasing the public when something so important is going on? When we are finally free we race home to turn on the TV and settle in to the couch for the returns. At ten or so we move the TV into the bedroom and stay up all night waiting for the results. Last Tuesday we planned a sleepover party with some friends and were very excited.
This year we were able to vote early, and did so, along with about half the registered voters in our new home, Albuquerque, New Mexico. Most people we knew were volunteers for the Obama campaign, so everyone was invested and enthusiastic. Our little sleepover turned into a party quickly. My husband, John, made a huge vat of chili, David brought the salad, Amanda and Mike brought bread, several people brought wine and we watched TV as we waited for all the friends who working the polls. They finally arrived. Jessie and Sophia came in with dog, sleeping bags, air mattress and lots of sugary pop. Becky came in last, famished and exhausted. We all gathered in the living room, ready for a long night. In just an hour it was over. No one could believe it. We screamed, cheered, hooted and cried. People ran out into the streets all over the city to celebrate in the cold. No one could contain themselves. It was heartening and exciting to see my new, very diverse city come together with so much joy.
The next day we paid special attention to the news and kept reassuring ourselves that it really happened. Indiana! who could believe that the birthplace of the KKK would go Democratic? And yet, this new dawn did not bring entirely good news. We were saddened and angered to watch as proposition 8 in California (and similar legislation elsewhere) was used to change the state constitution to exclude gays and lesbians from the ability to marry. So we have a long way to go. But really have come very far. It gets better all the time, and for the first time in years I am proud, and not embarrassed, to be an American. Maybe Michelle Obama gets in trouble when she says it, but I think it needs to be said.
I have been eligible to vote in three presidential elections now. Election day in our household is a holiday with roughly the same importance as Thanksgiving. My husband and I get up in the morning and go vote, holding hands as we walk to our precincts voting booth. We then vote, beaming like idiots, and walk home, hand in hand. The work day is truly a challenge, how can you pay attention to returning phone calls and pleasing the public when something so important is going on? When we are finally free we race home to turn on the TV and settle in to the couch for the returns. At ten or so we move the TV into the bedroom and stay up all night waiting for the results. Last Tuesday we planned a sleepover party with some friends and were very excited.
This year we were able to vote early, and did so, along with about half the registered voters in our new home, Albuquerque, New Mexico. Most people we knew were volunteers for the Obama campaign, so everyone was invested and enthusiastic. Our little sleepover turned into a party quickly. My husband, John, made a huge vat of chili, David brought the salad, Amanda and Mike brought bread, several people brought wine and we watched TV as we waited for all the friends who working the polls. They finally arrived. Jessie and Sophia came in with dog, sleeping bags, air mattress and lots of sugary pop. Becky came in last, famished and exhausted. We all gathered in the living room, ready for a long night. In just an hour it was over. No one could believe it. We screamed, cheered, hooted and cried. People ran out into the streets all over the city to celebrate in the cold. No one could contain themselves. It was heartening and exciting to see my new, very diverse city come together with so much joy.
The next day we paid special attention to the news and kept reassuring ourselves that it really happened. Indiana! who could believe that the birthplace of the KKK would go Democratic? And yet, this new dawn did not bring entirely good news. We were saddened and angered to watch as proposition 8 in California (and similar legislation elsewhere) was used to change the state constitution to exclude gays and lesbians from the ability to marry. So we have a long way to go. But really have come very far. It gets better all the time, and for the first time in years I am proud, and not embarrassed, to be an American. Maybe Michelle Obama gets in trouble when she says it, but I think it needs to be said.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Wonderful Story
Judith Warner from the New York Times wrote this wonderful story - no, I didn't get it directly from her. A friend sent it to me and it speaks in many ways to similar messages shared on this blog site.
Simply go to: http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/06/title/?ei=5070&emc=eta1
Enjoy!
Simply go to: http://warner.blogs.nytimes.com/2008/11/06/title/?ei=5070&emc=eta1
Enjoy!
Friday, November 7, 2008
From Asha's Momma
Michelle is a beautiful, talented, and intelligent member of the leadership team at Public Allies - yes, the same one that Michelle Obama has spoken of - a wonderful non-profit organization focused on developing leadership skills in our country's youth - headquartered in Milwaukee. Below she shares her story in part through the eyes of her daughter.
Taking the Dream from her Pocket!
I have a daughter, Asha, who will be two years old in two weeks. She is the coolest person I know, and I keep her as the apple of my eye. When I was that size, I was raised to believe that I had to do twice as well as the white children around me to be considered half as good. Even then, I knew that my hair must be combed, my face washed, I should always use my manners... I'm sure that the women in the family did it to keep me safe. They'd borne witness to lynching, segregation and discrimination for all of their lives. They also discouraged me from living too loud or wanting too much, to keep me from being ostracized or disappointed. And so, I put my dreams in my pocket, knowing that someone else, someone who those kinds of ridiculous dreams were meant for, would come to gather them when the time was right. Me, I would stand nearby to congratulate and support their efforts.
I voted early, as I was going to be at a conference on Election Day itself, but I asked my mother to bring Asha along to the polling place. She went, and stood in line with my mom, and I'm told that whenever someone greeted her, she answered, "I'm going to vote for Obama". They all thought it was darling, but there was something more important afoot. She'd watched plenty of news coverage preceding the election, and the Democratic convention with her parents. When people chanted Barack Obama’s name, she did too. When she saw the famous "O" posted somewhere on the street, she would point it out to anyone who’d listen. Barack Obama became as popular as Elmo in our house over the course of the campaign. And why not? They both are friendly, and people love them. Plus, Obama and his wife have two little brown girls living with them - just like my Asha's Mommy and Daddy. Their family makes sense to her, and when she heard about the election, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to support her friend.
That night, she woke up at 10:30 unprompted. I kept her awake, instead of tucking her back in, the way I would on an ordinary night. I carried her back into my bedroom to watch the newly elected first family walk onstage. She said, "What happened, Mommy?" I whispered, "Obama won...." and with that, all hell broke loose. "YAY! Obama won! Hooray for Obama!" she sang, in the same tone we use to congratulate her for using the potty, or putting on her own shoes. And then, my husband and I started to cry. Our baby's happiness at the win of "President Elmo" was overwhelming. We wept because Asha could see little girls that looked like her on the national stage. She can honestly be told that she can succeed on her own terms, without the comparisons to the majority that I suffered from. We were in awe of the idea that she will grow up seeing herself reflected in American society the way she really is, not as the nightly news reports.
I cry just trying to write this down. I cry tears of joy that this day will be so profound in the lives of my children, and that the content of their character finally has permission to shine through. I also cry with sadness for the horror our people have had to survive to get to this place in history. I also know that I have so much work to do. I intend to fish that little dream of my own out of my pocket, and make the most of it!
Taking the Dream from her Pocket!
I have a daughter, Asha, who will be two years old in two weeks. She is the coolest person I know, and I keep her as the apple of my eye. When I was that size, I was raised to believe that I had to do twice as well as the white children around me to be considered half as good. Even then, I knew that my hair must be combed, my face washed, I should always use my manners... I'm sure that the women in the family did it to keep me safe. They'd borne witness to lynching, segregation and discrimination for all of their lives. They also discouraged me from living too loud or wanting too much, to keep me from being ostracized or disappointed. And so, I put my dreams in my pocket, knowing that someone else, someone who those kinds of ridiculous dreams were meant for, would come to gather them when the time was right. Me, I would stand nearby to congratulate and support their efforts.
I voted early, as I was going to be at a conference on Election Day itself, but I asked my mother to bring Asha along to the polling place. She went, and stood in line with my mom, and I'm told that whenever someone greeted her, she answered, "I'm going to vote for Obama". They all thought it was darling, but there was something more important afoot. She'd watched plenty of news coverage preceding the election, and the Democratic convention with her parents. When people chanted Barack Obama’s name, she did too. When she saw the famous "O" posted somewhere on the street, she would point it out to anyone who’d listen. Barack Obama became as popular as Elmo in our house over the course of the campaign. And why not? They both are friendly, and people love them. Plus, Obama and his wife have two little brown girls living with them - just like my Asha's Mommy and Daddy. Their family makes sense to her, and when she heard about the election, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to support her friend.
That night, she woke up at 10:30 unprompted. I kept her awake, instead of tucking her back in, the way I would on an ordinary night. I carried her back into my bedroom to watch the newly elected first family walk onstage. She said, "What happened, Mommy?" I whispered, "Obama won...." and with that, all hell broke loose. "YAY! Obama won! Hooray for Obama!" she sang, in the same tone we use to congratulate her for using the potty, or putting on her own shoes. And then, my husband and I started to cry. Our baby's happiness at the win of "President Elmo" was overwhelming. We wept because Asha could see little girls that looked like her on the national stage. She can honestly be told that she can succeed on her own terms, without the comparisons to the majority that I suffered from. We were in awe of the idea that she will grow up seeing herself reflected in American society the way she really is, not as the nightly news reports.
I cry just trying to write this down. I cry tears of joy that this day will be so profound in the lives of my children, and that the content of their character finally has permission to shine through. I also cry with sadness for the horror our people have had to survive to get to this place in history. I also know that I have so much work to do. I intend to fish that little dream of my own out of my pocket, and make the most of it!
A Surreal Moment - Jim's Story
This story is written by my husband, Jim. He was so supportive of my involvement especially knowing that he had to restrain his own, given his current position. Thank you Jim - I love you.
The news came seconds after 10:00 p.m. CST: Barack Obama, the announcer declared, had won the election and would be the 44th President of the United States. The room I was in when the announcement came was packed with 20-some of Barack Obama’s hardest working and most energetic supporters, people young and old, white and black, male and female, who had spent virtually every waking moment of the last several months working, sweating, living for this very intersection of time, place and destiny. These exhausted, fervent, focused souls erupted with a joy so forceful, so buoyant and so cathartic that every being in the room, and no doubt countless others far away from it, became weightless. A text message arrives on my phone at 10:02. It is from my son Daniel. It reads simply, viscerally, bawdily: “Hell f_ _ _ in yeah, dad! Hell f_ _ _in’ yeah!”
The moment was surreal, unlike any similar moment I had ever been witness to in any election I had ever cared about. I felt faint…flushed, giddy, proud, floating-on-air faint. There was the discernible sense then and there that the national history being written from this instant forward would read nothing at all like the national history already in print. An extraordinary man – thoughtful, intellectual, compassionate, honest, reflective, wise, grounded, humble in his confidence, attentive to the struggles of others…in him every noble human quality that has been utterly absent in the leadership we have been obliged to suffer in this country for the last eight years – has been elected President of the United States. And that this extraordinary man is also African-American makes his ascendancy an outcome of inexpressible significance.
I joined the hugs, the handshakes and the high-fives that in those narcotic moments that followed connected every celebrating human being on the planet. I sat down, head back against the wall, looking above the joyful revelers, past the television and the room and the community and dared to imagine that maybe, just maybe, we will at long last bring the best of ourselves to a pained and fearful world, a world that has been battered, marginalized and demeaned by our hubris, and be the relief of its suffering instead of the cause. The room’s joyful noises receded as I thought about the heavy price that so many have paid in their determined efforts to hold us accountable for our failures to guarantee to all the blessings of liberty we claim to embrace.
Tears welled in my eyes as I beheld these memories rush together in this present moment, unspoken but poignantly present on the faces of the parents and grandparents of a very different time in this country, who stand now bent by the infirmities of age and the weight of a lifetime of second-class citizenship, in tearful, silent tribute to those of their history whose sacrifices made this history possible. Here now stands Barack, this young man of color and unusual name, on the mountaintop we call the presidency of this most powerful nation on the planet. The sight is an improbability so deeply etched into the American cultural conscience that we may be forgiven for asking ourselves, despite the celebratory and electoral evidence to the contrary: Can this be real? It is indeed real. Oh, happy, happy day!
My thanks and love to my spouse, Christine, for her tireless work on Barack’s campaign which efforts she, in her thoughtful way, has dedicated to our children. My thanks as well to the others of her “campaign family” who gave of themselves in similar indefatigable measure to this most worthy and important purpose. Well done! (jmh 11/7/08)
The news came seconds after 10:00 p.m. CST: Barack Obama, the announcer declared, had won the election and would be the 44th President of the United States. The room I was in when the announcement came was packed with 20-some of Barack Obama’s hardest working and most energetic supporters, people young and old, white and black, male and female, who had spent virtually every waking moment of the last several months working, sweating, living for this very intersection of time, place and destiny. These exhausted, fervent, focused souls erupted with a joy so forceful, so buoyant and so cathartic that every being in the room, and no doubt countless others far away from it, became weightless. A text message arrives on my phone at 10:02. It is from my son Daniel. It reads simply, viscerally, bawdily: “Hell f_ _ _ in yeah, dad! Hell f_ _ _in’ yeah!”
The moment was surreal, unlike any similar moment I had ever been witness to in any election I had ever cared about. I felt faint…flushed, giddy, proud, floating-on-air faint. There was the discernible sense then and there that the national history being written from this instant forward would read nothing at all like the national history already in print. An extraordinary man – thoughtful, intellectual, compassionate, honest, reflective, wise, grounded, humble in his confidence, attentive to the struggles of others…in him every noble human quality that has been utterly absent in the leadership we have been obliged to suffer in this country for the last eight years – has been elected President of the United States. And that this extraordinary man is also African-American makes his ascendancy an outcome of inexpressible significance.
I joined the hugs, the handshakes and the high-fives that in those narcotic moments that followed connected every celebrating human being on the planet. I sat down, head back against the wall, looking above the joyful revelers, past the television and the room and the community and dared to imagine that maybe, just maybe, we will at long last bring the best of ourselves to a pained and fearful world, a world that has been battered, marginalized and demeaned by our hubris, and be the relief of its suffering instead of the cause. The room’s joyful noises receded as I thought about the heavy price that so many have paid in their determined efforts to hold us accountable for our failures to guarantee to all the blessings of liberty we claim to embrace.
Tears welled in my eyes as I beheld these memories rush together in this present moment, unspoken but poignantly present on the faces of the parents and grandparents of a very different time in this country, who stand now bent by the infirmities of age and the weight of a lifetime of second-class citizenship, in tearful, silent tribute to those of their history whose sacrifices made this history possible. Here now stands Barack, this young man of color and unusual name, on the mountaintop we call the presidency of this most powerful nation on the planet. The sight is an improbability so deeply etched into the American cultural conscience that we may be forgiven for asking ourselves, despite the celebratory and electoral evidence to the contrary: Can this be real? It is indeed real. Oh, happy, happy day!
My thanks and love to my spouse, Christine, for her tireless work on Barack’s campaign which efforts she, in her thoughtful way, has dedicated to our children. My thanks as well to the others of her “campaign family” who gave of themselves in similar indefatigable measure to this most worthy and important purpose. Well done! (jmh 11/7/08)
From a Healing Soul
I met Doreen in Milwaukee when I was looking for an alternative to Western medicine several years back after months of various antibiotics for a severe bronchial infection. I was grateful then as I am now for her eternal wisdom - and yes, my body healed and has not needed antiobiotics since that time.
From Doreen:
I was daydreaming as I stood in the 45 minute long Early Voting line in Orlando, Florida USA a week and a half before Election Day, grateful for the ease of registering in this state of my new residence, for the swiftness of early voting, and for the phenomenal organization of the Obama campaign. Still, I had some cynicism about the last election, the irony of me now casting the most important vote of my lifetime in Florida of all states, and hoping my vote would honestly count this time). I imagined as I quietly hummed to Leya swaying on my hip as everyone around me seemed earnestly somber, that an excited exit interviewer would approach me as I was leaving and say, “Who’d you vote for, can I ask?” And me smiling and replying, “I was a single mother from age 22-30 after putting myself through college and starting my own business; now, that daughter is 18 and in her first year of college. I was off work for three full years with a medical disability a decade ago, have spent some years of my life with six figure incomes, and some years with zero. I am now newly married to a 63 year old retiree (who won a Social Democracy party Senatorial race in Portugal in 1976 helping overthrow the Fascist government there, before he decided to immigrate to the U.S. instead). And this beautiful 9 month old on my hip is our new daughter together. Who do you think I’m voting for?
But more important than all of those reasons, it was a day and an event of unmatched spiritual, political and emotional proportions in my life as an American. I was writing a letter to my eldest daughter last week trying to explain to her the significance of this election, and I had to borrow the words of Caroline Kennedy, quoted in Change We Can Believe In: Barack Obama’s Plan to Renew America’s Promise: All my life, people have told me that my father changed their lives, that they got involved in public service or politics because he asked them to. I have never had a President who inspired me the way people tell me that my father inspired them. But I believe Barack Obama could be that President -- a President who reminds us that we all have something to contribute to this country that has given us so much”.
I was born in March 1968. Somehow I’ve always felt the aftermath of the assassinations that preceded my birth. I still feel the anxiety and injustice of the racial riots that drove my grandmother from her home in Milwaukee, with snipers on her house’s rooftop and army tanks driving toward each other down her street as she barreled past them to escape to our cottage up north, that year of my birth. I’ve always longed for the political activism and hopes for peace and unity the songs and sentiments of the 60’s still echoed in my early environment. I have often said I feel that I was born in the wrong place and time. Maybe a few years too late, maybe entirely on the wrong continent. Because I have never for a second in my life felt American. America from 1968 to 2008 has been a time of confusion, mostly. If looked at as a timeline of its own, the period of my lifetime so far has been an end, to a Beginning. Finally! I told my daughter as I urged her to vote, “This is the first time in my lifetime I have been able to vote FOR a candidate instead of against one”. It’s about damn time!
I watch Barack Obama in his full fuel and balanced energy, and I say “This is not a man whose ego or mind is driving him to sustain all of this: this is a man living his life’s purpose, this is what he was born to do, and he’s remained humble enough to be the vessel to let all of this flow through him, it’s not him doing it, he’s just accepted it and he has lots of Help”. To some, that may sound religious in some way. But to me, it resonates with the black american I heard interviewed yesterday, someone who marched with Martin Luther King, Jr, who said, “the announcement of this presidency was the most spiritual experience I’ve had in my life”. It is so much bigger than one black man winning the American ballot.
It is difficult for me not to get impatient, and even a little angry, at how much emphasis there has been the past two days on Barack Obama’s blackness. It helps me realize how oblivious I am to what it means to grow up according to societal rules that make one oppressed. I have complete impatience and disregard for divisiveness of race, culture, age or socioeconomic status. I have often said, “If I am prejudiced against anyone or anything, it would be white America more than anything else”. That is the internal confusion that has ruled my life as an American from 1968 - 2008. I lived forty years not feeling patriotism even for a second. Even as a young child, Independence Day seemed not quite true to me, I experienced anger and feelings of injustice or hypocrisy by nature more so than anything else when looking at our national flag or hearing the national anthem. My parents were patriotic, my upbringing was too, but somehow I was never able to buy into it. From 1968 - 2008, there were not enough cultural events in favor of hope and peace and unity, and far too many that confused me and disheartened what I innately always felt America should and could be.
Today, I finally know why I was born an American in 1968. The hope I always longed for and knew should be our birthright as Americans has finally been reborn. For the first time in my life, I believe our new President and Vice-President are men of honor, “normal” people, moral, humane, honest and pure of heart. I believe that many of us who are American citizens have worked hard in our own lives and our own evolution to build momentum leading up to this as our collective effort. I believe that globally and beyond, the spirit of revolution and evolution are allowing this renewed sense of unity and purpose, of hope and equality, of a more peaceful and prosperous future for all. I now believe that my 18 year old daughter and my 9 month old daughter have a chance at futures that we are now finally starting to help more than we have hurt. For the first time in the history of my life, I can say I am proud to be an American. I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t think that would ever change. But now I understand personally the sentiment of America’s existence, and for the first time in my lifetime I believe this country can truly be what it has sought to be since its founding.
From Doreen:
I was daydreaming as I stood in the 45 minute long Early Voting line in Orlando, Florida USA a week and a half before Election Day, grateful for the ease of registering in this state of my new residence, for the swiftness of early voting, and for the phenomenal organization of the Obama campaign. Still, I had some cynicism about the last election, the irony of me now casting the most important vote of my lifetime in Florida of all states, and hoping my vote would honestly count this time). I imagined as I quietly hummed to Leya swaying on my hip as everyone around me seemed earnestly somber, that an excited exit interviewer would approach me as I was leaving and say, “Who’d you vote for, can I ask?” And me smiling and replying, “I was a single mother from age 22-30 after putting myself through college and starting my own business; now, that daughter is 18 and in her first year of college. I was off work for three full years with a medical disability a decade ago, have spent some years of my life with six figure incomes, and some years with zero. I am now newly married to a 63 year old retiree (who won a Social Democracy party Senatorial race in Portugal in 1976 helping overthrow the Fascist government there, before he decided to immigrate to the U.S. instead). And this beautiful 9 month old on my hip is our new daughter together. Who do you think I’m voting for?
But more important than all of those reasons, it was a day and an event of unmatched spiritual, political and emotional proportions in my life as an American. I was writing a letter to my eldest daughter last week trying to explain to her the significance of this election, and I had to borrow the words of Caroline Kennedy, quoted in Change We Can Believe In: Barack Obama’s Plan to Renew America’s Promise: All my life, people have told me that my father changed their lives, that they got involved in public service or politics because he asked them to. I have never had a President who inspired me the way people tell me that my father inspired them. But I believe Barack Obama could be that President -- a President who reminds us that we all have something to contribute to this country that has given us so much”.
I was born in March 1968. Somehow I’ve always felt the aftermath of the assassinations that preceded my birth. I still feel the anxiety and injustice of the racial riots that drove my grandmother from her home in Milwaukee, with snipers on her house’s rooftop and army tanks driving toward each other down her street as she barreled past them to escape to our cottage up north, that year of my birth. I’ve always longed for the political activism and hopes for peace and unity the songs and sentiments of the 60’s still echoed in my early environment. I have often said I feel that I was born in the wrong place and time. Maybe a few years too late, maybe entirely on the wrong continent. Because I have never for a second in my life felt American. America from 1968 to 2008 has been a time of confusion, mostly. If looked at as a timeline of its own, the period of my lifetime so far has been an end, to a Beginning. Finally! I told my daughter as I urged her to vote, “This is the first time in my lifetime I have been able to vote FOR a candidate instead of against one”. It’s about damn time!
I watch Barack Obama in his full fuel and balanced energy, and I say “This is not a man whose ego or mind is driving him to sustain all of this: this is a man living his life’s purpose, this is what he was born to do, and he’s remained humble enough to be the vessel to let all of this flow through him, it’s not him doing it, he’s just accepted it and he has lots of Help”. To some, that may sound religious in some way. But to me, it resonates with the black american I heard interviewed yesterday, someone who marched with Martin Luther King, Jr, who said, “the announcement of this presidency was the most spiritual experience I’ve had in my life”. It is so much bigger than one black man winning the American ballot.
It is difficult for me not to get impatient, and even a little angry, at how much emphasis there has been the past two days on Barack Obama’s blackness. It helps me realize how oblivious I am to what it means to grow up according to societal rules that make one oppressed. I have complete impatience and disregard for divisiveness of race, culture, age or socioeconomic status. I have often said, “If I am prejudiced against anyone or anything, it would be white America more than anything else”. That is the internal confusion that has ruled my life as an American from 1968 - 2008. I lived forty years not feeling patriotism even for a second. Even as a young child, Independence Day seemed not quite true to me, I experienced anger and feelings of injustice or hypocrisy by nature more so than anything else when looking at our national flag or hearing the national anthem. My parents were patriotic, my upbringing was too, but somehow I was never able to buy into it. From 1968 - 2008, there were not enough cultural events in favor of hope and peace and unity, and far too many that confused me and disheartened what I innately always felt America should and could be.
Today, I finally know why I was born an American in 1968. The hope I always longed for and knew should be our birthright as Americans has finally been reborn. For the first time in my life, I believe our new President and Vice-President are men of honor, “normal” people, moral, humane, honest and pure of heart. I believe that many of us who are American citizens have worked hard in our own lives and our own evolution to build momentum leading up to this as our collective effort. I believe that globally and beyond, the spirit of revolution and evolution are allowing this renewed sense of unity and purpose, of hope and equality, of a more peaceful and prosperous future for all. I now believe that my 18 year old daughter and my 9 month old daughter have a chance at futures that we are now finally starting to help more than we have hurt. For the first time in the history of my life, I can say I am proud to be an American. I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t think that would ever change. But now I understand personally the sentiment of America’s existence, and for the first time in my lifetime I believe this country can truly be what it has sought to be since its founding.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
On Election Day - Clarey's Story
Clarey is a dear friend and fellow resident of Fox Point, WI. Here is her story:
The Morning After
Wanting a souvenir to forever commemorate this incredible election day, I headed off to Barnes and Noble this morning to purchase a copy of the New York Times. They were slow to open this morning and I found myself in line with a group of other folks who were there for the same reason. There was a general feeling of good will in the air and people in high spirits talking about the excitement of a new world. Unfortunately B&N only stocked a half dozen or so papers that were gone in a flash. And so I headed off to Borders, only to meet up with an even larger group of people, many of whom I had been in line with at B&N. We laughed as we recognized each other.
Young, old, white, black - we were all celebrating the dawning of a new day. As I turned to leave, again unable to secure a copy, an older gentleman turned to me and offered me one of his papers. I politely declined. I decided I didn't need it. It just felt great to be among people sharing good cheer and that feeling was all I needed to take home with me.
The Morning After
Wanting a souvenir to forever commemorate this incredible election day, I headed off to Barnes and Noble this morning to purchase a copy of the New York Times. They were slow to open this morning and I found myself in line with a group of other folks who were there for the same reason. There was a general feeling of good will in the air and people in high spirits talking about the excitement of a new world. Unfortunately B&N only stocked a half dozen or so papers that were gone in a flash. And so I headed off to Borders, only to meet up with an even larger group of people, many of whom I had been in line with at B&N. We laughed as we recognized each other.
Young, old, white, black - we were all celebrating the dawning of a new day. As I turned to leave, again unable to secure a copy, an older gentleman turned to me and offered me one of his papers. I politely declined. I decided I didn't need it. It just felt great to be among people sharing good cheer and that feeling was all I needed to take home with me.
From Jennie - A Short Story
A short story from my daughter Jennie who is in Chicago. A white friend of hers was walking in the parking lot of a grocery store this morning and exchanged glances with a black woman who said "beautiful day isn't it." The two women, strangers yesterday, suddenly were moved to embrace, crying in each other's arms.
My Story by Christine Hill
Last night after the polls closed, one of my fine Canvas Captains (Tim) and I decided to make a pizza run to bring food back to an impromptu party that had been organized. We left with the knowledge that Barack was on his way, but as with many, our anxiety would need to see, hear, and know that Barack had in fact been elected before returning to anything approaching normal (I think normal was sometime six or seven months ago).
We stopped at a local PickNSave at 10:01 p.m. only to learn that they had closed at 10:00 p.m. As we discussed our next pizza strategy, driving down Good Hope Road my cell phone rang, almost simultaneous with Tim's phone. We both answered our individual cell phones to hear my daughter (on mine) and his son (on his) shouting, screaming, crying that Barack had won! Tears filled our eyes, as we headed toward the nearest gas station (our second pizza strategy), both of us recognizing that in that moment a floodgate of emotion was being released from our hearts, our bodies, and our souls. Pulling into the gas station together we sent prayers to the heavens, thanking God for the gift we had just been given. Quick hugs were swiftly followed by pizzas flying out of the freezer and into our arms. We returned to the cheers and tears of the group already in progress.
It occurs to me now that that moment on Good Hope (this IS the actual name of the street we were on) was wonderfully symbolic of a long and at times difficult process - certainly longer for those who entered the campaign earlier than me - but even longer for those who have felt the oppression of being "different", of lacking visibility in a political world that has often disenfranchised populations of citizens for their inability to fit an acceptable mold.
Here was this white, 58 year old woman who has never known suffering or alienation but believes ardently in the goodness of the human spirit and the need for shared accountability within our communities, with a black, younger but no less mature man who understands what it can mean to struggle and yet finds common ground with the woman sitting next to him. In a moment that I will remember for the rest of my life, the color of our skin, while noticeable and layered with history, disappeared as we both listened to our children - children who together see the world and all of its possibilities as one - children who together can carry this magnificent moment into the future in a way never imagined.
We stopped at a local PickNSave at 10:01 p.m. only to learn that they had closed at 10:00 p.m. As we discussed our next pizza strategy, driving down Good Hope Road my cell phone rang, almost simultaneous with Tim's phone. We both answered our individual cell phones to hear my daughter (on mine) and his son (on his) shouting, screaming, crying that Barack had won! Tears filled our eyes, as we headed toward the nearest gas station (our second pizza strategy), both of us recognizing that in that moment a floodgate of emotion was being released from our hearts, our bodies, and our souls. Pulling into the gas station together we sent prayers to the heavens, thanking God for the gift we had just been given. Quick hugs were swiftly followed by pizzas flying out of the freezer and into our arms. We returned to the cheers and tears of the group already in progress.
It occurs to me now that that moment on Good Hope (this IS the actual name of the street we were on) was wonderfully symbolic of a long and at times difficult process - certainly longer for those who entered the campaign earlier than me - but even longer for those who have felt the oppression of being "different", of lacking visibility in a political world that has often disenfranchised populations of citizens for their inability to fit an acceptable mold.
Here was this white, 58 year old woman who has never known suffering or alienation but believes ardently in the goodness of the human spirit and the need for shared accountability within our communities, with a black, younger but no less mature man who understands what it can mean to struggle and yet finds common ground with the woman sitting next to him. In a moment that I will remember for the rest of my life, the color of our skin, while noticeable and layered with history, disappeared as we both listened to our children - children who together see the world and all of its possibilities as one - children who together can carry this magnificent moment into the future in a way never imagined.
On Election Day - My Story
This blog is dedicated to the millions of people worldwide, each who has his/her own individual story to tell about November 4th (and beyond) 2008 - many who would love to share those stories with others.
The groundrules are simple - your stories should focus on November 4th and beyond and relate directly to the election; they can be as long or short as you like; they can be inspiring, pragmatic, humorous, engaging - whatever words help to tell your story best (I will not print hurtful stories that are divisive); and they should be honest and truthful. My story will be printed first to give you some ideas - but your story IS your story - so structure it however it works best for you.
Stories can initially be emailed to me at christinebhill@live.com. After my daughters, Jennifer and Laurel, have had their hands at this, I will include a way through the blog for you to add your stories.
In the meantime I wanted to get this up and going while you have the stories fresh in your mind. Feel free to contact me with your questions...
And continue the dialogue.
Christine
The groundrules are simple - your stories should focus on November 4th and beyond and relate directly to the election; they can be as long or short as you like; they can be inspiring, pragmatic, humorous, engaging - whatever words help to tell your story best (I will not print hurtful stories that are divisive); and they should be honest and truthful. My story will be printed first to give you some ideas - but your story IS your story - so structure it however it works best for you.
Stories can initially be emailed to me at christinebhill@live.com. After my daughters, Jennifer and Laurel, have had their hands at this, I will include a way through the blog for you to add your stories.
In the meantime I wanted to get this up and going while you have the stories fresh in your mind. Feel free to contact me with your questions...
And continue the dialogue.
Christine
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