Inauguration '09

My friend Pooky was there in Washington today, waiting on the Mall since 5:30 A.M. My mom and I watched on the T.V. in our living room, and she laughed at me when I stood for the swearing-in of both Vice President Biden and President Obama. I am so hopeful, and so relieved, and so excited, and so proud to be an American.

Most of my growing up and most of my political awareness has come during the Bush years. I had no memory of fair elections until this year. I remember "Indecision 2000", with Jon Stewart sheepishly saying "You know, when we came up with that name, we were kidding." I remember my dad staying up late to watch the recounts and Supreme Court deliberations, pacing and swearing. I remember understanding vaguely that something wrong had happened. I remember being 12 years old on 9/11, standing by a lake with a friend, kicking rocks and expecting, in my limited understanding of war, gunfire from the hills at any moment. I remember nothing so much as the feeling of defeat the pervaded my concept of politics, the idea that no one was listening and nothing was changing.

Barack Obama was not my first choice for President in 2008. My dad and I both supported Hillary Clinton, me because I figured Obama needed more experience, my dad because he did not feel a black man could ever gain the public support needed to win. "It's not that I don't think he'd do a good job," my dad would explain. "It's just that there's too much racism left over. Guys like me, we were raised different. I don't have anything against the guy, but I'd have a hard time voting for him. I think a lot of people still feel that way. He won't be able to change people's prejuidices. Maybe someday."

I wish my dad had been healthy enough to be a delegate at our state's Democratic Convention last summer like he planned. I wish he had made it to see Obama chosen as the Democratic nominee. I wish he'd been around to see the circus that was McCain's VP choice. I wish he had been here to vote one last time, and I wish I could have called him on November 4th to celebrate. I wish he were here today, to see that he was wrong. "Someday" came early.

My dad may not have lived to see a black man become President of the United States, but he only missed it by a matter of months. His skepticism fueled my optimism in 2008, and I am proud that change, and the promise of change, came when it did. I don't expect Obama to singlehandedly create world peace, reverse global warming or fix the economy. What I expect from him is to give others what he has given me for the first time I can remember: the feeling that someone is listening, that people can make a difference, that the right thing can be done.

I found this slogan online somewhere:

"Rosa sat so that Martin could walk, Martin walked so that Barack could run, Barack ran so that our children could fly."

I miss you, Daddy. You would have liked this. You would have been surprised. You would have been proud.