Hello Everyone,
As I’ve mentioned in a couple of other threads, while I have been lurking since 2003, I rarely post. No need to say welcome, I already know most of you, even if the same isn’t true in reverse. Last night, I did post a thread, thanking DU for everything it does. It got noticed, and another poster gave me one of those neat donation stars when I had trouble getting PayPal to let me chip in, (I did get that problem figured out in the end).
At one point after I got that star, I thought to myself, “You know, you really should have been posting here more often, maybe you would have made some friends”. I thought a lot about lost time today as a result of that. And in an attempt to become even less productive at work, I started the following story, for the poster that gave me that star, and anyone else that might be interested.
This is the story of how I got where I am today, and why I support Barack Obama.
(And Mods, if this is in the wrong place, I understand if it has to be moved.)
“For in the darkest days of this campaign, when we were dismissed by all the polls and all the pundits, I would come to Iowa and see that there was something happening here that the world did not yet understand.”
There was a time in my life when, despite a definite interest in history and government, I did not pay very much attention to politics. That changed during the summer in 1998. I was lucky enough to have a decent job and a few very smart, very liberal friends that I regularly enjoyed having lunch with.
At that time, and during the Clinton impeachment, the political landscape was only in my periphery. I grew up in a conservative, fundamentalist household, and even though as an adult I was gay and very open about that fact, I demonstrated the typical self-animosity shown by people of my upbringing and voted Republican. I voted for Dole in 1996. Looking back on this, there really wasn’t ever a good reason for those votes, other than at the time I just knew it was the “right thing to do”.
Back to those liberal friends—we often enjoyed discussing the latest scientific news and world events. It was obvious that while serving as a reflection of my upbringing in certain ways, I was very liberal at heart. I supported teaching only Evolutionary Theory and adamantly opposed creationism in school. I supported various social programs and Affirmative Action. I always made the argument in favor of same-sex-marriage.
Those friends must have seen that inner liberal as well, for even though in hindsight I would make the dumbest justifications for supporting the Republican Party, they still challenged me and helped me make the connection that the people I was really supporting were only interested in tearing down everything I cared about.
It, being the Nineties, was a glorious time. I was 24 in 1999, and although I was a late bloomer intellectually by December of that year I had blossomed. There was a kind of electricity in the air. The economy was strong, and the 21st Century was dawning. Although people feared the Y2K bug, with many of the more extreme doomsayers, (and even Family Guy), predicting an accidental nuclear launch as a result, I still went out to a club on New Years Eve. It almost felt like the world was holding its breath, and at the stroke of midnight nothing happened.
And then there was a large bang...
I rushed outside of that club in Houston, Texas, and witnessed a fantastic burst of green fireworks rising over the skyscrapers of the downtown area. An overwhelming rush came over me—I and the rest of the world were stepping, right at that one moment, into a future with endless possibilities. Visions of some perfect science fiction utopia exploded with those fireworks into my imagination. And while I knew that we hadn’t exactly entered the world of Star Trek yet, I could see in that moment the great potential in front of all of us—we were taking a collective step into the future. Later I would buy a copy of CNN’s coverage of New Years Eve on disc to preserve the memory of that day.
My interest in politics had grown in those two short years; I began to wake up and pay attention. I found myself, in this new great world, to be an enthusiastic supporter of Al Gore. Along with those friends, I became extremely bitter in the wake of his concession to George W. Bush. But in short time, as reality set in, I comforted myself with endless footage of our new President vacationing and golfing. What damage could he possibly do when he can’t even be bothered to show up for work? I took solace in the idea that after four boring years we would get our Al Gore and be back on track.
My friends eventually moved away and started families. I found myself socially alone and eager for something new, and so I took a position for a little less pay at a new employer. I quickly found the work to be boring, and life by summer 2001 was settling into a stagnating routine of early morning news watching, coffee, work, and home again.
On one of those mornings in September of that year, I settled in to the morning’s CNN Headline News offerings with the first cup of the day. I remember what happened next so clearly that it I can see it playing out live to this day when I close my eyes. A segment on heart health, and then an interruption for breaking news—witnesses and a local affiliate are reporting that a small plane has collided with the World Trade Center. What size plane—someone says Cessna.
I began jogging channels. A comment about this being rare, but known to happen, most famously when a plane struck the Empire State Building. Back to Headline News, they will try to get more information, after the healthy heart segment. Time for a refill, and when I return, footage of the WTC building on fire. Large fire and reports of the crash involving a larger plane. The footage plays on until I catch a flash of something on the right side of the screen, just for an instant.
And then there was a large bang...
I carried myself late into work. “Work”, I call it, but there wasn’t much of it going on that day. Everyone in my small office was watching the events unfold on a small television set. During my commute the Pentagon had been hit. There were reports of another plane somewhere and worries of where it was headed. I called my fundamentalist mom—as much as she didn’t seem to care all that much about me in recent years, I felt compelled to connect in someway with her. Then the buildings started to fall. And with them, my bright, shining future was falling away as well.
The autumn days were long. I slowly drifted into the holidays with an underlying feeling of dread. The television in our office that had once been tuned to Rosie was now set on Fox News. And it never changed. There was a drumbeat, always there. Flags waving, claims of balance, patriotism, war. I suddenly had a new perspective on what nationalism really means. A compliant citizenry, unified in defeating all our enemies, curtailing our freedoms in the name of saving them—all the while couched in symbols of homeland and security.
Our enemies, we would find, were not so much the terrorists that attacked us that September morning, but rather the dictator that we never really liked since we had armed him and green lighted his country to wage a proxy war with the Soviets in the 1980’s.
I protested the war. Once. It was the only protest, actually a candlelight vigil, held in my town. The people in attendance sang old protest songs from the Vietnam era, and I thought that those songs were a silly way of stopping a war that seemed so rushed and so wrong. Someone in a passing truck threw eggs, and I was hit. That egg was a badge of honor as far as I was concerned, and everyone else in attendance felt the same. Then the war came, and Mission Accomplished, and the capture of that dictator in a hole in the ground.
I slowly marched along with time, reaching 2004 hoping for the best, and fearing that we had found a lackluster candidate. I had wanted Howard Dean, but felt confident that he wouldn’t win if nominated. I did like John Kerry, but felt his responses to attacks to be slow, (which they really weren’t, it was just played that way in the media). I wondered, during the convention, if a younger Illinois Senate candidate that had spoken might be seen again the future, aspiring to something more. He certainly had a good message. That candidate won his contest, Kerry lost.
I followed up coverage of the horror of Hurricane Katrina in 2005 by boarding up for Hurricane Rita. I made the decision to ride out the storm—something I was learning to do well, along with everyone else at that time. Would our government abandon us too, as they had when New Orleans drowned? Surely not, I thought, we are Texas, and there are far more wealthy white people here. How pitiful everything had become...
So much for Mission Accomplished, and the Party of Family Values. Both concepts went down in flames in the 2006 mid term elections. Brought down by scandal and an endless quagmire a world away. Later I would get disappointed by the ham-handed Congress I helped elect. With the help of bittorent, I discovered that there was an imaginary world I could escape to, filled with programming from other countries topped off by a healthy dose of new Doctor Who. Somehow it seemed as though the British, victims of terror themselves, were still headed towards that bright future that we had lost. How did they do it; how unfair.
Another Presidential election started to loom. I had waited for a long time to see our first female President step into the spotlight, and lead a bold charge to right our Ship of State. I had endless debates with far away friends on the phone on what I was sure was inevitable. But then a familiar face entered the fray earlier than I had expected. And he put up a greater fight than I had anticipated. He spoke about lofty ideas and principles, and had a great game, but who could he convince in the face of greater experience?
By March it was obvious that my State would have a voice this time. I had known for a long time that I would pull the lever—or in this case blacken the oval—for Hillary Clinton. I put off early voting and decided to head to the polling place the Saturday before the Primary. To my disappointment, I found that the polling place was closed. No more voting until Tuesday.
Upon leaving, I turned my car towards downtown, having found myself with extra time for running errands. As I approached one of the more busy intersections, I caught sight of the local Obama headquarters on the corner. “What’s the harm in having a look at their Golden Boy”, I thought.
I got out of my car, slouching as usual, tired, ready for an afternoon nap. Cars were everywhere and I was annoyed. I crossed the parking lot, opened the door, and stepped inside.
And then there was a large bang...
In that one instant I was hit by that electricity—that taste in the air itself—that I had almost let myself forget. Seniors, working phones next to college and high school kids talking about policy and handing out material. Nearly every race, age, gender, and orientation represented. A young girl, around age 24, walked up to me and offered to show me around. Funny, I hadn’t even asked, and surely now at 33, I must have appeared too old to be anything but a visitor.
Up a flight of stairs there was a phone bank in progress, and neat rows of computers with lists of names and sign up sheets for volunteers. Before I left my name would be on one of those sheets, a button on my shirt, and a bumper sticker on my car, (It’s still there today). I walked into that building as a Clinton supporter, hoping that someone could help our nation find its footing again, and walked out an Obama supporter, beaming and with a grin on my face that almost hurt to make, it had been so very long.
I had been watching his speeches, even though I hadn’t supported him in the beginning. I was familiar with the warnings of how hard the road ahead would be, both for this race and for our nation. I worried as the Wright footage played endlessly on television, and after a while delighted in a newly discovered trait of our would-be nominee. He looks good in a suit to be sure, but I hadn’t known those suits were made of Teflon. It was nice being the Party with that type of candidate for once.
And the candidate that I had previously supported? Didn’t she realize it was over? It had become clear that Team Obama had looked past the total number of votes won and was aiming for delegates. It turned out to be a cunning strategy. Soon, Senator Obama would return to Iowa with a majority of pledged delegates, and I would make it a point to watch the speech as soon as it was broadcast.
“For in the darkest days of this campaign, when we were dismissed by all the polls and all the pundits, I would come to Iowa and see that there was something happening here that the world did not yet understand.”
I remember those words but heard something else that night. To be sure, I’ve watched that one speech now at least two-dozen times. Perhaps I had become too cynical and angry and just didn’t see it—our bright future never disappeared, but was before us all this time. Calling out for us to step into it for real...
I have a tendency to see the polls and hear the news outlets tell us about a horserace, or see the latest Britney Spears ad and panic. I read a lot of people here and elsewhere demanding that our candidate or his people attack because all is nearly lost. But Obama didn’t win the Primary by running for the popular vote—he won by strategically playing for delegates. I see the same strategy here now—running for electoral votes instead of making this election a popularity contest, and in the process forcing McCain to spend in States he thought would be safe, like mine. I have to sit back and remind myself—this isn’t John Kerry, this is the guy that won, and his people know what they’re doing. They know how important this is, and they aren’t going to lose, no matter the cost. A glance at the State polls confirms that their strategy is working.
ABC and Fox News aside, I don’t really believe that there is a conspiracy among the media outlets to elect John McCain. I do see a media that wants the race to appear competitive to help their own ratings, and line their own pockets. So while we shouldn’t become complacent in the fact that we are winning, and are going to win, (by a good margin, I believe), we shouldn’t circle the wagons at the first time of trouble either.
I’ve waited for too long coasting through time and world events thinking that the best year in my life was 1999. The spark in my eyes has been replaced by dark circles surrounding each of them. But I can’t help but think as I watch this play out, and see those same stars in others’ eyes, that a better time is about to come for all of us.
I think we may have found the candidate of our time—just at the right time—stepping out of the pages of History at the very moment they are needed. That once in a generation leader—a Lincoln, a Roosevelt, a Kennedy. I see shades of them all in Barack Obama.
He’s right when he says the road will be hard and long. But I think I can see something at the end of that road, just creeping up over the horizon. There is a sunrise coming—a sunrise that will dawn in November and light up the whole of the sky in January.
I hope that on that day in January there will be fireworks...
Jeffrey
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