Oh What A Night That Was

Yesterday, my family was puttin' around our neighborhood and passed the high school where our district's Democratic Caucus was held a year and a half ago. It seems like longer ago than that since I found my classroom in the large building I'd never had reason to enter before. On that fucking freezing February night, I participated in an entirely ad hoc, peaceful, representative democratic process. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

By mid-winter of last year, I was already profoundly preoccupied with the dramatic, compelling and utterly surprising twists and political turns the Democratic primary season had issued forth for a national and international public. It really was like a dream come true for a progressive, Gen Xer like me who got to decided between a competent, intelligent woman and competent, intelligent bi-racial man for the top of the ticket. Life experience does inform perspective, focus and drive. Obama's way of approaching issues intellectually and communicating his perspective won my political allegiance almost immediately, but I appreciated that the other choice was digestible, too.

So when I drove up to the school and turned into the frozen parking lot, I was genuinely excited to participate. There were no legitimate parking spaces left and I was a half hour early. The packed parking lot was, I felt, a good sign for Obama. The extra enthusiasm that political season was definitely spun up by the Obama campaign. I pulled my car onto a small stretch of ice-clad concrete, looking around to see if someone would make comment or implement punishment for my aggressive parking strategy. A teenage-looking girl who had just pulled the same parking scheme I had looked at me briefly then turned and walked towards the school.

There was some confusion inside, but a round middle-aged women in mommy jeans and a puff paint sweatshirt figured out my room for me using my address and a clipboard of worksheets. I climbed up a couple flights of wide, cement stairs and turned into my classroom. A beautiful women who's accent and appearance placed her in my mind as being one of Minnesota's many African immigrants was seated at a desk just over the doorway's threshold. She asked me my address. I asked her how the process in our room was working and she smiled nervously saying wasn't sure. She was given the job of managing the lists and checking people in a few minutes after arriving in the classroom. She did not know anymore than I did about how a caucus was run, but she was managing. By the end of the evening I had also been recruited to count and report the votes. I was as excited as a child picked by the teacher to do a special job.

The room filled up and the time to begin arrived. I mentioned how busy the streets had been and suggested we take a look outside to see if people were still arriving. I looked out the window of our room, then ran out of the room to look out other windows, too. The memory of what I saw still bring tears to my eyes. In every direction, for as far as the eye could see in that dark, freezing cold night, people were coming. The road to the highway was a solid line of lights. People were parking everywhere in the surrounding streets, in front of houses, businesses, anywhere a car could be negotiated out of the way of traffic.

I went back into the room and suggested we wait for any important votes, as there were still people coming. We took the time to decipher the instructions, elect officers and generally get our democratic process in order. There were people there of a surprising ethnic, age and gender background in our room given the reputation of the Minnesotan suburbs for human homogeneity. However, there was a large number of old, white, men. I admit here my prejudices at that moment. I didn't really imagine who they were there to vote for, but I assumed it was not Obama.

I was quite wrong.

In fact, when we finally made it to a vote, the room was split between Obama and Clinton with Obama winning by a significant margin. One Hillary supporter, a man I knew from other political events around our community who always came with a list of unrelated complaints, was so flabbergasted by Obama's win that he cried out. Seeing the solemn looks on the old men's faces and their nod that indeed, the vote was correct, he resigned himself loudly, "Well, okay then!"

I went out, reported our results, then quickly made my way back home in the black, frigid night. From the comfort of my home, I watched the tallies coming in. It was Obama, Obama, Obama.

Now Minnesotans are not an easily dazzled bunch. In fact, I've never met so many people whose personalities are best described as "laconic" in my life. Of course, I haven't been to the ancestral homes of Norway and Sweden, yet. I hear it's a similar emotional landscape there. We do not get too excited about things over here. But we got excited about Obama.

Though the putrid muck of Washington politics seems to be sullying our golden child, it is important to remember the reason we voted for him in the first place. He inspired us to be good citizens and to believe better things are possible for our kids and for ourselves. Be good citizens, read the legislation available on-line and make up your own mind. Tune out the din of commercial TV and find some media sources that seem fair and balanced. These are important times, tough, but important.

We have already seen some positive things happen since Obama became our president. Personal savings rates are way up, Americans are returning to more measured consumption practices, the economy is out of a tailspin and leveling off, ready for a positive return, and our government is finally fighting back against a health care system that makes millionaires of a few, and peasants out of millions.

Have faith, remember the caucuses. With focus, determination, and a willingness to participate this time, we can make this a fair and good place to live.