The politics of hope

Like much of the country I spent a cold November night in 2004 glued to the death match between Senator John Kerry and incumbent president George W Bush.  I’ve had a life long interest in politics; and consider it a natural extension of human nature and a civic duty. Kerry was getting hammered; everyone saw how destructive the lies of the swift boat attacks had been. I watched as the hopes of my party went down in flames. But that night also heralded the arrival of the savior of the party and the liberal cause.

That night was the first time I heard the name Barack Obama. As the list of senate races were announced they mentioned his name; and breaking the tension of the night each of the commentators laughed at his implausible sounding name before moving back into the drivel and punditry.

Not long after I heard his speech to the DNC convention; I couldn’t help but marvel at his use of language, especially his body language and the deep layering of his storytelling. When he talked I knew for certain he was not a normal man and gave myself a mental note to keep an eye on him in the future.

He dropped off my radar for awhile until his books caught my attention. I compared the writing between two of his books and found the improvement to be staggering. His command of facts and language was equally impressive… but more impressive to me was watching his mind at work and the brutal honesty in which he approached both life and politics. Although I believed deeply in the ideals of the democratic party I had little faith in it’s leaders at the time.

I carefully studied Obama’s positions; and I agreed with the majority of them but found disagreement on a few minor issues. Despite that I even did some work for the local Obama group and signed the first petitions encouraging the senator to run. Even during the recent turmoil in my life I remained as involved as possible in his cause.

Today the potential I saw then has come to fruition; I announced years and years ago to anyone who would listen that the events of today were inevitable. Some laughed at me, others were offended and certainly nobody took me seriously. So now I get a high degree of satisfaction watching things unfold exactly as I predicted.

People asked me how I knew, they asked what I saw in a nobody from Chicago. I keep telling them it’s simple. I glimpsed at his mind. I saw more then just an earnest desire for good but the means to execute it. Every word he wrote set the groundwork for something larger, and every word was carefully placed with every angle of his arguments and plans well thought out.

Even as I marvel at his intellect and his command of language; And I am reassured by his honesty and the tenacity of his convictions.  I worry that the next challenge he faces will be something he is ill-prepared for. McCain is less articulate but his intellect and leadership skills are equally formidable. If this fight is all about mud slinging I worry we lose, not because we are weak or because the charges are right. Simply put the other side is much much better at it.

I think he will be the first of a new breed of modern president; one who utilizes the internet and the possibilities of mass communication not for propaganda… but to change minds and to build coalitions between the like-minded. His brand of hope based politics and squeaky clean campaign ethics isn’t new in the winding history of America, but it is new to our generation. Because he is my generations John F Kennedy and I don’t think we will get another one for a long time.

To cinch how perfect this day is for me, and to confirm my faith in him: When Senator took control of the Democratic party today he announced that the DNC would no longer accept donations from lobbyists. He shut the door on one of the most corrosive practices in American history despite the fact that it would likely hurt him in the general election.

Under the microscope

This might come as a shock to people; but I’m really not very good about writing non-fiction.

I know, a writer is suppose to be well rounded… and mostly I am. But something about pouring out my thinking and my emotions into word form pushes a kind of imaginary border in my psyche. Nobody wants to read about the crazy women ranting about her cats or the bad poetry of a chronically depressed pseudo-goth. They especially don’t want to read laundry lists of personal facts and carefully kept diaries of emotional minutiae. People want to be entertained, engaged and informed.

I find it hard to write a blog about daily life, aside from a few details it’s not an exciting life; I’m not a movie star, or a drug dealer, or a soldier or even a person with any fame of consequence. I’m just a writer. I observe life and I feel uncomfortable when I am the one whose life is being observed. Perhaps if I spoke about myself in third person… or if I adopted an elaborate persona I would feel more at ease.

I gave this some thought, I mean a really solid 5 minutes of thought and came to the conclusion that I did not want to be the ant under the microscope. I was thinking about this in terms of colorful metaphors and whimsical colloquialisms and found a few that could be considered viable. Then I discarded them in favor of plain simple language. Yes life is a journey we all share… from start to finish; but the journey is not meant to be alone. It’s meant to be shared with our friends, lovers, family, enemies, rivals and even complete strangers. It’s a meandering story that many of us choose not to share… or in some cases we share only bits and pieces taking the whole of the story to our graves.

Because our journey is not a solitary one I decided my blog will reflect that, more of my insights and stories will be from or about others. I avoided this in the past because I was fearful I would hurt or alienate people. There is also the fact that I’m conceited and like hearing about myself; which of course is perfectly healthy in a fictioneer. (Although in truth: worrisome in a blogger) Both of those concerns can be overlooked in the interests of good storytelling. After all a rich story must have a great many characters, the conflicts between them must be well documented and the plot must move inexorably towards it’s climatic conclusion. In those essential rules there is no difference between writing the absurdities of life or penning a well conceived fiction.