The Kennedy Effect

On a cerebral level, I’ve always understood the appeal President Kennedy had. I like the whole mythical Camelot thing. I get the celebrity of it, the glamour. I dig Jackie’s fabulous style. I am touched by the pictures of a little JFK jr. saluting his daddy’s coffin. But I’ve never really felt what having a milestone of a president like that was like for those who were there. I’d internally roll my eyes when ever someone got off on a reverence rant. He was just a man, after all.

Never in my memory was there a politician I personally cared for. I would have been sad if something happened to Clinton whom I’d always found good and likeable (in spite of). But I wouldn’t have felt a personal sense of loss. Caring for a politician like you would about a personal friend or family member? That just seemed hysterical to me.

I was walking my dog the day after the election, meandering and thinking out loud as I sometimes do. My heart swelled with hope and excitement. For the first time in a very long time I was proud of my country, proud to be an American. My friends from overseas gushed their support in a series of emails and I felt we were all part of something special. Almost as if we could feel Obama’s promised change in the air.

I thought of all the good things that will come in the next eight (yes, eight) years; social policy change, women’s reproductive rights, gay rights, foreign relations, war ends, financial improvement, health care reform – these are my hopes. I thought of the other good to come, blind spots that I cannot anticipate. I jigged in place and sang to my dog.

And then I got it. If Obama were suddenly taken from us and all that hope and shimmer and sun finally rising from the long, dark night were vanished, I understood on a visceral level the sense of personal loss I would feel. It choked me up for a moment. The crushing disappointment and sadness. I finally understood the impulse to go stand in line to salute a coffin for a man I’d never met. I felt a new understanding of the people who talk of Kennedy in reverent tones.

I sympathize with my relatives in Ireland who still have a portrait of Kennedy in the kitchen. I finally understand that their pride in a new hope was not an empty symbol but a real, tangible heart-swell.

I walked my dog home with a new pride in my heart and a sense of personally caring for a man I’ve never met. Yes, he’s just a man and he’ll make mistakes. But for the first time in my lifetime I feel like we have a real chance to make this country as wonderful as it deserves to be.

There are portraits of Obama going up in kitchens all over the world.

Yes We Did

I woke up to an email of congratulations from a dear friend in Ireland. The hope that rides with Obama's presidency (!) stretches across the globe. Our first glimmer of hope that we may have a place at the table of the new world order - that we may in fact not be the pack of raving idiots the last eight years often made us appear to be to the eyes of the world.

I find it very telling that at the McCain party, when he mentioned Obama there were boos and jeers from the hateful, infantile audience. Meanwhile, at the Obama party, when he mentioned McCain there was respectful applause. Here's to the party of classy, educated grown-ups being in the White House. Bring on the arugula.

I know we have an uphill battle. We have angry white supremacists (hello idiots, he's half white) and bible beaters that will be doing everything to bring Obama down. I have a family member who quoted that Obama was a Palestinian Muslim. Who knows what other ridiculousness the hater propaganda machine will churn out over the next four years.

I'm so relieved I don't have to move to Canada to escape a looming Palin. I don't like cold weather.

It's my sincere hope that the new White House puppy be a mutt from the pound.

Happy new America Wednesday, everyone.