A girl passed me on the train this morning wearing a T-shirt bearing the face of George Bush with the words "Not my president" written alongside his face. Any other day these past 8 years I would have thought her just one more well-informed but helpless voice proclaiming, in her youthful rebellious way, what most of us have been thinking for a long time. But today, her shirt rang true. The day has finally arrived. George W. Bush truly is "Not my president." Oh, he may technically have another 8 weeks or so before it becomes official. Academic aside, though, the man who has run our country into iceberg after iceberg no longer captains our ship.
Standing in line for my tea this morning, I overheard a woman of about 60, dressed for work, well put-together, ask the barista steaming the milk for her cappuccino who won last night.
Who won last night? I thought to myself, astonished. So astonished, in fact, that I turned to the girl at the register--who looks a lot like Sarah Palin, that ditz who once ran for VP--tossed a thumb in the direction of the woman, and said aloud, "Did she really just ask who won the election last night?" The man next to me chuckled and rolled his eyes. The Palin look-alike shrugged and politely offered an excuse for her: "Maybe she went to bead early."
What? Went to
bed early? Who cares? Are you freakin'
kidding me? She made it this far--9am, dressed, in the city, probably arrived in her car that has a radio, probably passed a newspaper stand or two--and she never once stumbled across, even accidentally, something that alerted her to the fact that we have a new president? Worse yet, she didn't climb out of bed and even half-heartedly wonder who won? No? Nothing? Not even a casual interest?
That's her loss then, because she missed out on the most heartening moment in American history in 40 years, and certainly in my lifetime. Like him or not, Barack Obama transcended our country's dark, shameful past as far as race relations, and carried on his back millions of people who have been waiting for a moment like this.
Last night was proof positive that with hope, and lots of hard work, one truly can achieve greatness. It in no way erased all of our race issues, or biases, our prejudices, and our deep-rooted resentment, but it went a long way toward mending that fence and turning everyone's attention to the future.
I could feel my eyes welling up last night as Obama spoke, standing there so calm, so poised, not a trace of gloat or pretentiousness anywhere to be found. He acutely understands what lies ahead. He understands there is difficult work to be tackled, and that not everyone is going to bend over backwards to give his plan a shot. He knows there will be people waiting to tear him down just as quickly as they raised him up--that is, after all, what America does to its heroes.
Those days have not yet come, however. They will soon, but not yet. Last night, today, and ideally for as long as we can, we must attempt to bottle that display of sheer patriotism that America embraced last night. In a different way, I remember feeling the same spirit of camaraderie immediately following 9/11, when we, the people, faced a common enemy and bonded together as one against those who threatened to destroy us. At that moment, Bush could have asked us to do anything and we would have done so. I have never been a Bush fan, but when he walked out to the pitcher's mound at Yankee Stadium during the World Series in 2001 and threw out the first pitch, bravely, wearing a bulletproof vest, I was moved practically to tears. Love him or leave him, he was our leader, and our leader let us all know we have nothing to be fearful of.
But Bush missed his chance to really invoke a sense of civic duty in us. Rather than seize the chance to raise us to greatness, to call upon us to each pitch in for a greater good, he told us to go to the mall.
Obama learned those lessons, and will not, I dearly hope, make the same mistake. I know from playing music and connecting with fans that people want to help in things they believe in. There are times when I sense I could even ask our fans for even more help, but don't because it feels like imposing. Truth is, they want to help. I support artists I enjoy, so why wouldn't I expect others to do the same for my music? Same with Obama. He recognizes that America is beat up, wants change, and is willing to make sacrifices for that change. And that is inspiring.
Inspiration. I felt inspired last night. There are many, my own family included, who assumes we are now destined for 4 years of welfare handouts, white flags overseas, and skyrocketing taxes. To that, I say, you had your chance. You had Bush for 8 years. And it didn't work. Will Obama fix all of our problems? No way. But he deserves a chance to give it a shot.
Six months from now, if not six days from now, the glow will have dulled, the soared spirits will have returned to the earth, and the disbelief that America has finally done something really amazing for itself, will have worn off. The debt will still be there. The war will not have left us. Racism will not have gone anywhere.
That day is not upon us now, though. There will be plenty of time for cynicism. But for now we owe it to ourselves to think big and dream big and bottle all of this up. We must remember what it felt like to watch that scene in Chicago last night, and in living rooms across this country, so that when times are tough, and the news cycle is once more rife with ugliness, disparity, depression, and gloom, we will know that it doesn't have to be that way. That when push comes to shove, we, the people, can do great things together.
