Election Night

I can’t believe that the election is over. Well, it’s mostly over. There are still Senate seats to be decided, and as I was driving home from dinner last night, I noticed that the DNC office was still open and staffed 2 weeks after the election. It is hard to let go, since it was such a cathartic experience for so many people. At least I know that it was for me.

I’ve been following the election from the very beginning, and I had initially supported Hillary Clinton. I mean, for a Clinton lover, what would be better than having them back in the White House? The whole notion was intriguing and in some ways, comforting.

But last April, Barack Obama delivered a speech in South Carolina. As my husband and I watched him deliver this stump speech, we both began to cry. It was unbelievable that we were both sitting there with tears streaming down our faces. It was on this night that something changed for me. There was something irrestistable about this man---it was as if he had reached into my psyche---that he knew exactly what I needed to hear.

Over the past 8 years I have felt like I’ve been held prisoner. There was such a feeling of helplessness that I felt every time George Bush turned the screws a little tighter, and dug a hole so deep that no one was likely to easily climb out of.

My God---did Obama just throw America a rope?

His message of hope and change became something very personal for me. As I witnessed the campaign via 24-hour news, I became possessive and protective of Obama. I would find myself hollering at the likes of Pat Buchanan and Carly Fiorina, as they tried to tear apart Obama’s character, and to distort his message of hope and promise of change.

It became almost too stressful to me to bear witness to at times. I could barely tolerate watching the debates. I had to leave the room several times as Sarah Palin winked and talked down to America. I lost sleep, I wrote emails to Chris Mathews and Keith Olbermann, I donated hundreds of dollars, and I emailed my family and friends. My anxiety was extremely high, almost uncontrollable.

It was during the last weeks of the campaign that I began to really get in touch with my feelings about the election. It wasn’t just that I had had enough of George Bush and his out of control policies. It wasn’t simply that as a socially liberal Democrat I could no longer bear the idea of religion being hijacked and trademarked by a political party, that God was being used as a pawn and as a means to an end. It wasn’t simply that I was sick and tired of being called unpatriotic and un-American because I disagree with a disastrously failed foreign policy.

I began to understand Obama’s message in a visceral way. Deep in my bones, in my heart and very soul, my wounded child connected with Obama and his remarkable journey toward the Presidency. Over the months I began to feel hopeful about my own life. I began to think that personal change and transformation IS possible, even if the challenges that you’re facing seem insurmountable. He began to symbolize all of my hopes and dreams for my own life. How could I not support this man and embrace his message?

Incredible as it may seem, we were in DC on election night. I had planned this trip months in advance. I love DC. There is so much history there, so many beautiful places to visit, so much power being tossed around. I wanted to be around it, maybe even be a part of it in some small way.

We spent those few days wandering around the city---feeling proud, hopeful and excited. There was a definite vibe everywhere we went. Cab drivers, waitresses, the power brokers having lunch at a restaurant on Capital Hill---everyone was buzzed, some were even giddy.

On election night we went to a restaurant that we had been to on previous visits to the city. The place was packed with Democrats, Republicans, Senate staffers, and various other DC players. It’s interesting how important one begins to feel just hanging around such a diverse group of people. Elbowing up to the bar, starting a conversation with an attorney from the Department of Labor, and finding yourself practically sitting in his lap because you want a piece of something powerful. You want to be in the mix, in the moment---you want to feel like you’re a player too, if only for one evening. So I turned on the charm, I flattered and flaunted, and for a few minutes, I felt like an insider---important and connected.

We left the restaurant before they called the election. I had to be dragged out of there by my husband and our companion. We caught a cab back to the Sofitel, which is about a block from the White House. The hotel bar was jammed with people too, and we stayed there---me with my 4th glass of wine, and we basked in the glow of our impending victory.

It was in this bar, among other visitors from all over the world that we heard the announcement---and we all cheered, feeling utterly relieved, and even disbelief. President-Elect Barack Obama. It has a certain ring to it.

We finally rode the elevator up to the 10th floor, and turned on the news to continue the celebration. After a few minutes, we heard a commotion outside, so I looked out the window down at the street 10 floors below me, and I saw hundreds of people spilling out onto the streets heading toward Pennsylvania Avenue. We immediately grabbed out coats and sped back to the lobby, went outside, and joined the group that was walking toward the White House. We turned the corner, and before us were several thousand people milling around, hooting, hollering and banging pots and pans. There was security and police patrolling about, but there was nothing threatening happening on this night. This night was for celebration and victory. We joined in with the masses, a collective voice of prisoners released from their 8 year captivity, It was all the sweeter knowing that W. was at home that night, and could hear the celebration that was heralding a new age.

We finally returned to the hotel in a bit of a daze. The night of partying and celebrating was about to come to an end for me. After I climbed into bed, I turned to my husband and whispered, “I still don’t believe it”, and I cried myself to sleep filled with the hope that I had clung to so tightly throughout the campaign.