What if?

Obama's coming tonight.

I had to park way down on Broadway, by the old railway station, across from 2nd Baptist to get to yoga. Every parking space was taken by 5:30 pm. I cut through the alley for a few blocks, padding across the bricks on my disintegrating eccos, carrying my yoga pants. The sun was setting. The whole town bathed in golden light. The old Bell South building lit up like the temple of Solomon, amber against the clear blue sky. It's warm this evening. People were drifting South along the streets towards campus. All sorts of people. There's this happy feeling in town--it feels quiet but charged. It feels like Easter morning, only a little more carnival.

After yoga, the sun had set, but the feeling in town was the same. Everyone I saw smiled at me and I smiled back. I got some ice cream (chocolate orange sorbet) and went across to the Dakota, called Jay from the house phone.

"I just called you." He said.

"I figured."

"Are you downtown? I feel one hundred years old. We were shooting in the woods all day--three miles in three miles back--boom jib camera all on my back. I don't know whether I'm cut out for this."

"Are you going to go to the rally?"

"No...that whole crowd thing..."

"Me either."

His phone went dead then and he hung up.

I went home. Lilly and I watched The Office. I went back to working on my research proposal.
Then, Lilly suddenly said, "I want to go."

"Go where?"

"To see Obama. I want to go."

I looked at her. Shrugged. "Okay. Let's go."

All the sudden she was on fire to leave, nagging us. "Come on. Hurry. "

"Jesus, Lilly."

Nick dropped us off. We started walking toward campus, getting caught up in the flow, the crowd, going faster and faster. I called Jay. "We decided to go."

He laughed. "Me, too!" I could hear the crowd over the phone. "I'm here, too! You won't be able to find me--but I'm here, too."

But we did find him. That's the funny thing about Jay and I. We always make the same decisions--turn right, turn left. We instinctually follow the same path. Jay took turns lifting Lilly and I up on his shoulders, and I could see Obama--far away.

It was a nice crowd. Easily 50,000 people. Everyone polite. Everyone happy. Good feeling. I hope he wins.

The thing is, though, with Obama, I always expect him to say something else. I don't know what it is. But somehow, I don't get what I expect. It doesn't move me. Maybe I'm cynical, maybe I'm tired. But the words don't roll. The words don't ring. Just about--but they never go over the top. Almost...almost...

Well, we'll see. I hope he wins. I hope he keeps his promises.

We need a lot. We need so much.

I want this to be the country of the kind. I want the hungry fed. I want there to be dignity for the poor. I want us to be reasonable. I want the hate to disappear. I want things to be...real again. I'm tired of turning on the television and seeing these fake lives. I'm tired of our aspirations centering on material gain instead of ideals. I want there to be earnest young men running around college campuses again. Where are all the earnest young men?

I don't know. I want change, but I'm afraid to even hope for it. Something in me has copped to the fact that politically, I don't count. That the best I can do is duck and cover, and scrape out some small place for me and mine.

What if things were fair again? What if that was the expectation? What if the poor weren't villified? What if? What if? What if one out of three people didn't get cancer? What if our sick were cared for? What if we woke up again to the conviction that if we wanted to, we could make a difference? What if we didn't have the inner certainty the cards were stacked against us from the beginning?

Interesting.

That's my 1/2 hour.

That's my 1/2 hour.