Wednesday, November 5, 2008

Congratulations, America!

CONGRATULATIONS, AMERICA!

I am walking on air this morning, to coin a phrase. We are seeing a change in our country, a change in the way the world will view us, a change from the politics of fear to the politics of hope.

I was downtown at the Opera last night and caught the tail end of the Obama Rally on my way to the train home. The air was electric with cars and taxis honking their horns, people yelling out of car windows and waving flags and pictures of Obama, pedestrians erupting into shouts of OBAMA! OBAMA! I laughed and cried all the way from the Lyric Opera to the Metro Station at Millennium Park. I'm not sure my feet touched the ground.

The Opera (Bizet's Pearl Fishers) ended about 10:30, and McCain was giving his concession speech when I left. I was floored. I expected the vote count to take well into the night. The skyscraper canyons prevented the signal from reaching my little radio completely, so I got a lot of static, but I was able to hear most of it. It was the finest, most sincere speech I heard him give, a speech to unite the country behind our President Elect Barack Obama.

As I neared the train station, huge crowds clogged the streets, and I was able to talk to people who attended the rally. On the train, I got a seat and we took off in a nearly three quarter empty car. The first stop was closer to the rally, however, and the rally-goers packed the train. A woman and her grandson who was probably six or seven got on. She sat next to the woman in front of me, and the little boy, Michael, sat next to me. It seems superfluous to mention, but they were black. At this point, I hardly notice. I asked if he had a good time, and he nodded.

As the train took off, his eyes started to droop, but he kept tight hold of the three balloons he held - red, white and blue, and covered with little stars. By the time the train reached Hyde Park, about a quarter of the way to Homewood, he had curled up on me deeply asleep, and I didn't move or disturb him until it was time for him and his grandmother to disembark. She didn't notice he had fallen asleep so comfortably, and apologized when she did. "I told him it was past his bedtime," she said. But people around us - both white and black - noticed and smiled and waved at me. When she tried to wake him from his very deep sleep, he finally stood up, and they got off at Hazelcrest, about three stops before me.

This is the way America should be.

We all have a stake in this country, and I look forward to your comments below.

2 comments:

Charlie said...

This is a truly beautiful commemoration Bill. I've sent the link to my summer writing students so we can discuss it on Tuesday!

Bill Moser said...

Thanks, Charlie. I'm honored you chose to use this in your class.