Obama!
This morning at 7 a.m., my daughter and I went to the polls. (In our small town, there was no line yet--we were the only ones there!). The election judges let her go in with me so she could see what it was like to fill out a ballot.
I have tried to allow S. to explore all sides of the issues that matter to her, but of course she's been influenced by me. We don't agree on everything, but we agree on much more than we did when she came to me, and we were both rooting for the same candidates and issues.
We were uncharacteristically silent as I drove her to school. "I hope he wins," she whispered as she got out of the car.
"Me too."
---
The campus was alive with messages to vote Democratic, to vote for change. I feel lucky to work where I work.
This afternoon, we had an appointment in a town two hours away. Usually I spend election day door knocking and phone calling and driving people to the polls, but this year I spent it driving to and from our appointment. It felt strange, and when I remarked on this to a relative on the phone, S. said, "Mom, you have a DAUGHTER now." Of course I would have included her in the effort if we'd had the time--but we didn't. She had a point; my life is totally different now.
On the drive home, we continued to listen to NPR in silence. I was so nervous. The first good news was that Hagen had beat Dole, and that PA had gone for Obama. I was shouting, high fiving S, who was threatening to force me to pull over if I didn't stop. Five more states going Democratic in house and senate races. Ecstatic.
Then we got the first call--my aunt who raised me (whom S. calls "yiayia," or grandma in Greek), announcing that CNN and MSNBC had called both Ohio and Michigan. More shouting. I started to cry. I couldn't believe it was happening. (NPR followed soon after). Then S's godmother, who voted for the first time this year, having just finally become a U.S. citizen, called, and when I asked her how it felt to have voted, she choked up. Then my father--tired from his cancer treatments, he was shouting wildly, happy about politics for the first time in years.
We went immediately to a friend's home and watched the returns on T.V. (we don't have one at home). When Obama actually won, S. made the rounds, hugging and kissing everyone. We both wept, watching the crowds on T.V. gather and hug each other. Then my aunt called, in tears. "I wish your mom and aunt were here to witness this," she said, and I felt my heart swell, remembering how deeply they had believed in the Democratic party and liberal ideals, how important political involvement was to them. I think they would have been proud of me for passing on those ideals to S.
Back at home, we listened to Obama's speech on NPR. More crying. Lots of text messages from former and current students and other friends. So much joy.
---
In 1992, I worked my ass off for Clinton's campaign as a college student, and our College Democrats rented out a bar in town for what we hoped would be our victory party. The election season had been hard for me. I'd been harassed by some closed-minded people throughout the entire election period--Feminazi had been spraypainted outside my window, vulgar images of gay sex and aborted fetuses pasted to my dorm room door--so the victory felt personal, like Clinton could somehow shut these nutty, hateful people up.
In a way, that did happen, and things were good for a long time. Unlike some of my recent students, I had a good job out of college, and graduated without too much debt. Graduate school a couple years later made sense, even though at the time it wasn't clear what kind of job opportunities would follow. I am lucky, I know, to be well employed at a job I love, especially in this economy.
There were, of course, bad times, too. I was in Cincinnati when an anti-gay city initiative passed there. I didn't agree with many of Clinton's decisions, but I also didn't cringe, as I have for the last eight years, every time I heard our president talking on the radio.
Tonight, I feel a little like I did the night Clinton won the first time. I'm sober, though, and also more cognizant of the fact that Obama's win isn't going to solve all our nation's problems. But I also feel hopeful.
Some friends stopped by from a much wilder party that I'd decided not to attend, wanting instead to be with people who would watch more quietly, and with families with kids S. knew well. My friends were going out to the bar to celebrate, but I couldn't join them--I think I'm feeling too overwhelmed to do so. I want instead to hold some kind of vigil--to be silent and full of wonder right now--but also, to get the rest of the news.
Now that S. is in bed, I've had time to surf the internet. Everything isn't good--our state DFL Senate and House candidates are losing at the moment, though the Senate race remains close. California's Proposition 8 is passing, though the more urban areas have not been counted yet, so there's still hope--I can't bear the thought of those GLBT couples having their marriage licenses revoked. There are similar initiatives in two other states, and in a third, an initiative to disallow GLBT couples to adopt. S. was especially upset about this one--she didn't want to go to bed without getting the results. But none of these results are final yet, and it's nearing 12:30 here, so I'll probably get to bed before I know the results for sure.
---
At the party tonight, a friend's three year old kept asking, over and over, when Obama was going to arrive at the party. It was so sweet; she truly believed he would walk through the door. I think he makes a lot of us feel that way--as if he's somehow accessible, that we know him in a way we haven't known many others.
---
Tonight when I put S. to bed, she asked me to sing her a political song. There were, of course, lots of options, but I chose "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow," the hallmark song of Clinton's first campaign. She was asleep by the time I got to the last line of the chorus (which is all I really know--and maybe all there is to the song, anyway?)--
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone!
I have tried to allow S. to explore all sides of the issues that matter to her, but of course she's been influenced by me. We don't agree on everything, but we agree on much more than we did when she came to me, and we were both rooting for the same candidates and issues.
We were uncharacteristically silent as I drove her to school. "I hope he wins," she whispered as she got out of the car.
"Me too."
---
The campus was alive with messages to vote Democratic, to vote for change. I feel lucky to work where I work.
This afternoon, we had an appointment in a town two hours away. Usually I spend election day door knocking and phone calling and driving people to the polls, but this year I spent it driving to and from our appointment. It felt strange, and when I remarked on this to a relative on the phone, S. said, "Mom, you have a DAUGHTER now." Of course I would have included her in the effort if we'd had the time--but we didn't. She had a point; my life is totally different now.
On the drive home, we continued to listen to NPR in silence. I was so nervous. The first good news was that Hagen had beat Dole, and that PA had gone for Obama. I was shouting, high fiving S, who was threatening to force me to pull over if I didn't stop. Five more states going Democratic in house and senate races. Ecstatic.
Then we got the first call--my aunt who raised me (whom S. calls "yiayia," or grandma in Greek), announcing that CNN and MSNBC had called both Ohio and Michigan. More shouting. I started to cry. I couldn't believe it was happening. (NPR followed soon after). Then S's godmother, who voted for the first time this year, having just finally become a U.S. citizen, called, and when I asked her how it felt to have voted, she choked up. Then my father--tired from his cancer treatments, he was shouting wildly, happy about politics for the first time in years.
We went immediately to a friend's home and watched the returns on T.V. (we don't have one at home). When Obama actually won, S. made the rounds, hugging and kissing everyone. We both wept, watching the crowds on T.V. gather and hug each other. Then my aunt called, in tears. "I wish your mom and aunt were here to witness this," she said, and I felt my heart swell, remembering how deeply they had believed in the Democratic party and liberal ideals, how important political involvement was to them. I think they would have been proud of me for passing on those ideals to S.
Back at home, we listened to Obama's speech on NPR. More crying. Lots of text messages from former and current students and other friends. So much joy.
---
In 1992, I worked my ass off for Clinton's campaign as a college student, and our College Democrats rented out a bar in town for what we hoped would be our victory party. The election season had been hard for me. I'd been harassed by some closed-minded people throughout the entire election period--Feminazi had been spraypainted outside my window, vulgar images of gay sex and aborted fetuses pasted to my dorm room door--so the victory felt personal, like Clinton could somehow shut these nutty, hateful people up.
In a way, that did happen, and things were good for a long time. Unlike some of my recent students, I had a good job out of college, and graduated without too much debt. Graduate school a couple years later made sense, even though at the time it wasn't clear what kind of job opportunities would follow. I am lucky, I know, to be well employed at a job I love, especially in this economy.
There were, of course, bad times, too. I was in Cincinnati when an anti-gay city initiative passed there. I didn't agree with many of Clinton's decisions, but I also didn't cringe, as I have for the last eight years, every time I heard our president talking on the radio.
Tonight, I feel a little like I did the night Clinton won the first time. I'm sober, though, and also more cognizant of the fact that Obama's win isn't going to solve all our nation's problems. But I also feel hopeful.
Some friends stopped by from a much wilder party that I'd decided not to attend, wanting instead to be with people who would watch more quietly, and with families with kids S. knew well. My friends were going out to the bar to celebrate, but I couldn't join them--I think I'm feeling too overwhelmed to do so. I want instead to hold some kind of vigil--to be silent and full of wonder right now--but also, to get the rest of the news.
Now that S. is in bed, I've had time to surf the internet. Everything isn't good--our state DFL Senate and House candidates are losing at the moment, though the Senate race remains close. California's Proposition 8 is passing, though the more urban areas have not been counted yet, so there's still hope--I can't bear the thought of those GLBT couples having their marriage licenses revoked. There are similar initiatives in two other states, and in a third, an initiative to disallow GLBT couples to adopt. S. was especially upset about this one--she didn't want to go to bed without getting the results. But none of these results are final yet, and it's nearing 12:30 here, so I'll probably get to bed before I know the results for sure.
---
At the party tonight, a friend's three year old kept asking, over and over, when Obama was going to arrive at the party. It was so sweet; she truly believed he would walk through the door. I think he makes a lot of us feel that way--as if he's somehow accessible, that we know him in a way we haven't known many others.
---
Tonight when I put S. to bed, she asked me to sing her a political song. There were, of course, lots of options, but I chose "Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow," the hallmark song of Clinton's first campaign. She was asleep by the time I got to the last line of the chorus (which is all I really know--and maybe all there is to the song, anyway?)--
Yesterday's gone, yesterday's gone!
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