JUST HOW FAR WE HAVE TRAVELED

On the day of MLK, Jr's birthday, I thought I would reflect on my travels with the President-elect and the road our country has traveled. It was over 4 years ago when I first heard of and from Barack Obama. He was the keynote speaker at the DNC in Boston. Though we did not have cable and despite the fact that the major networks shamelessly decided to abridge their convention coverage and were not airing his speech, I decided to go to our basement in Baltimore and tune in to PBS. The reception was poor. I saw wavy lines and several images of Mr. Lehrer on the screen, but none of that mattered once the speaker mounted the podium. He spoke of a country that was more than a collection of disparate parts. He spoke of a new kind of politics and decorum that had been ignored or impugned by recent politicians. He spoke of hope and the audacity of that basic human aspiration...no matter what the odds.

It was that night when I knew he would be a President of the United States, who happend to be black. His color and his background were inherent in who he was and what had brought him to that moment, but they were merely parts of the sum. That is what inspired me and so many other Americans after his "sermon" was done.

I kept an eye on him and heard the rumors of those who said he would run someday but that his time was not now. I went so far as to buy and place on my car an Obama '08 bumper sticker in the Fall of 2006, well before he declared his intention to run. When he finally announced his candidacy that cold morning in Springfield in early 2007, I was thrilled. I did not think about the sharks with whom he would swim. I did not think about the skeptics and the critics. I thought that his and our time had come. While, in my heart I always knew that winning would be a long-shot, I never doubted that he should win. First came the official bumper sticker. Then the lawn sign. Donations. Conversations. Inspiration.

For the first time in my adult life (and I am one who has eschewed movements, teams, etc), I joined a campaign for change. I made phone calls. I sent out a flood of emails to old friends and family imploring them to donate, vote, and work towards our common purpose. I even mananged to rekindle a few friendships and relationships along the way through my efforts by reminding myself and my estranged loved ones and friends about the common bonds, which had not been broken between us.

There were big moments along the way- phone-banking (Texas, Oregon, Indiana, Virginia), door-knocking (North Portland), and rallies I attended (Portland in September 2007, Portland in May 2008, and St. Paul in June 2008, the night Barack won the nomination). I was elated at the nomination and watched the proceedings in Denver with rapt attention. Things got ugly in the fall, and the gloves came off in St. Paul. Yet, I never doubted that we were on the right side of history and that this campaign was about more than words; at its heart, in my heart, it was about the chance to make the world right again, kind again, just again.

On November 4th, America made the tough choice. It made the wise choice. It made the only choice it could make given the times in which we found ourselves. Around 8PM PDT, it was certain, although as soon as Ohio, the bellwether, was called, we all knew it was over. I was happy. I was pleased. I was inspired like millions of other Americans.

It was not until today though, on the day of the preacher's birthday and the eve of the Inauguration of Barack Hussein Obama, that it really hit me... like a ton of bricks ... what we had accomplished and how far this country had traveled in its 233 year history. Today, I listened to various speeches and watched various campaign videos on-line. First, I heard the last few minutes of President-elect Obama's acceptance speech from that glorious November night when he talked about how far an elderly African-American woman in Georgia had seen this country come in her lifetime. Then, I watched the will.i.am "Yes We Can" video, which was inspired by a loss, not a victory, in New Hampshire. Finally, I found the "A More Perfect Union" speech from March, 2008 in Philadelphia, where our country began. When Barack told the story of the young white woman, Ashley Baia, and the elderly African-American man whom she had inspired and with whom she had connected, it sunk in how far I and we as a nation had traveled.

Just forty years ago, my marriage to a white woman would have been considered illegal in many states. Just forty years ago, admission to the best schools in this land would have been an impossibility for me and my children. Just forty years ago, a preacher was killed for daring to have a dream. For the first time in this journey, I cried. Not tears of joy but tears of disbelief. Despite the fact that I had never doubted the righteousness of our cause, I had never really believed that the dam of reality would give way to the flood of hope... that we could travel that far.

THE GREAT SCHLEP

In the few posts I have written so far, I have already mentioned my reverence for Tim Russert (God rest his soul!).  Only one person was more instrumental in making me a 'fan' of politics, and that is my dad.  He came here some 50 years ago, much like Barack's father, for educational opportunities, which he could not get back home, and he told me many times about how he shook JFK's hand during a campaign visit to Madison, WI in 1960 when he was a grad student there.  After 2 graduate degrees, he returned home and married my mom.  They settled in Canada because it was easier to immigrate to there than to the U.S.  

Growing up, I was always amazed by how dad knew all the senators and which states they represented (He has been a Biden fan for about 25 years Dave) even while we were living in Canada.  When we immigrated to the U.S. in 1984, my love for politics was born.  I remember watching the 1984 convention with him on TV;  it was like the Super Bowl in our house.   I was the only kid in my suburban Oklahoma City 6th grade class to vote for Mondale over Reagan in our mock election, and this was dad's influence defeating peer pressure.  

My dad and I became estranged after a bitter divorce with my mom in 2005.  I was upset over how things transpired, and we had not spoken for three years.  However, in June after Tim Russert died and I watched the hours of tribute programming highlighting his love of politics and his father, I called my dad.  It was a brief and tense call, but it was the start of us re-connecting. (You cannot make this stuff up people- see also below).

I was inspired to find out today that dad recently become a US citizen and voted in his first presidential election this month (He had not become a US citizen earlier because he thought it was ridiculous that he would have to renounce his Canadian and Indian citizenships).  He had been a big Clinton supporter in the primaries, but when he saw videos and pictures (passed on to him by my sister) of Nicholas talking about 'B'rock Obama,' he said he realized what Obama represented for the next generations, mine and Nicholas' and how this was my 1960.  Sarah Silverman talked about 'the Great Schlep.'  I guess this is my version ... Kerala-style.

LETDOWN?

I am not sure if I am alone here, but is anyone feeling as though the Obama administration has turned into business as usual (read 1992)? The campaign that was supposed to be about change looks more and more like the politics of the past. While I am a practical person, I do value justice. To that end, why is Lieberman still in the Democratic caucus with a committee chairmanship? I could understand waiting until the votes were back from AK, MN, and GA before making a decision, but to let him off like this seems rather ... political. The other thing I find unsettling is the fact that Hillary Clinton is poised to be our next Secretary of State. I did not work as hard as I did to defeat the Clintons in the primary after their disgraceful campaign only to see her (and by default Bill) elevated to such heights despite NO foreign policy experience. This reeks of Mike Brown and FEMA to me.

I have always been a very teleological person, but the journey to this victory seems a lot sweeter than the actual victory and its aftermath right now. Perhaps my expectations were too high, or perhaps it is too early. The next few months will tell the tale, but the likes of Rahm Emanuel, Hillary Clinton, et al leave me wanting.

COVER ART

The New Yorker had a pretty inflammatory cover with Obama in a turban and Michelle with a huge Afro holding a machine gun this year, which prompted a letter from me. In it I wrote, "If we cannot look to the New Yorker for a biased, pro-liberal, pro-Democrat message, where can we look?"

They have redeemed themselves with this cover and the contents of the Nov 17 issue. Some amazing analysis on Campaign '08 and what lies ahead.

There were many times I thought about canceling my subscription- articles too long, I do not live in New York, no time to read during internship, residency, and fellowship, but I always thought doing so would be "selling out" or giving up on the right-brain part of me. This week, I was reminded why I kept my subscription. This is best issue I have ever read from them. Old Abe would be proud!

NICHOLAS '40

On my way to work today after dropping off my son Nicholas, who is three, at daycare, I was thinking about how far this country has come.  Last week, a 1/2 black man with the name Barack Hussein Obama, about as radioactive a name as one could imagine in this day and age, was elected the 44th President of the United States.  His candidacy throughout the primaries and general election was inspirational to many of us, but I felt a special thrill.  Here was a truly self-made man, who made the most of every opportunity, who put education and hard work first, and who despite being a "skinny kid with a funny name" thought that "America had a place for him, too."  

I have not always felt as though anything was possible or that America had a place for me, but when I look at my son, who also happens to be biracial and smart as a whip, I see no external obstacles to his success.  I see no walls, which he will not be able to scale if he puts his mind to it.  I no longer think it is possible to dream too big.  If Nicholas chooses to run for the highest office in the land in 2040 when he turns 35, I know that his background will not stand in his way.  The Republicans would be another matter though!  Never before have I appreciated the favorite saying of my hero Tim Russert as much as I do today: "What a country!"

ON THE GROUND

One of the most amazing aspects of Campaign '08 was reaching out to Americans and making them aware of what Barack stands for.  I had never been involved in a campaign until this year, although I had given money, so this was quite a departure.   My friend Brooks and I canvassed in NE Portland, the most racially diverse part of the city and state and a neighborhood in transition. This was in September when Oregon was still in single digits.  

I knocked on a door, and an elderly African-American man answered.  He said he planned to vote for Obama.  There were a few small kids in the living room watching cartoons.  The man said he had a few questions for us, and he asked us to step outside.  First, he wanted to know whether felons were banned from voting.  While we were uncertain, we told him it would be no problem (every vote counts!).  Next, in the most serious tone one could imagine, he asked me if I thought that whites in Portland would riot if Obama won.  Mind you, Portland is one of the whitest but also most liberal cities in the country.  I jokingly told him that whites and folks like me in liberal Portland (and across many parts of the country) would riot if Obama lost!  He smiled and with that we registered him to vote.