A couple months back, sometime before Jeremiah Wright, before Richardson bowed out, before Richardson endorsed Obama, before 11 straight primary victories, before “working class” became conflated with “white,” before YouTube stole Bill Clinton’s mojo, before “bitter”, before i’d-rather-vote-for-McCain, before the Rules and Bylaws Committee, before Edwards bowed out, before Edwards endorsed Obama, before gas tax holidays, before the goalposts moved, before every American had their say…
Stacia, my friend and co-blogger, asked me a question.
“Gene, he could actually do this, huh?”
It was a question that seemed steeped in caution. I felt the same way. If we were cynics, ours was a hard-earned cynicism. But every cynic was once a wounded optimist who still secretly longs that she will be proven wrong.
dNa:
Malcolm said we weren’t Americans. He said we had never been Americans. But I think even Malcolm would sit back tonight and smile, and realize that wasn’t the whole story. America can only love itself as much as it loves us, and as much as we love it back. And we love it the way only we can, because we know intimately its ugly contradictions, its furious hypocrisy, its shining promise.
A Sully reader:
My grandfather, 86 years old and a veteran of WWII, just gave me a call. He was calling all of his grandchildren to let them know what an important night this was in the history of our country.
Grandpa drove a truck for over 50 years, and he told the story of how he drove with a team of drivers, 2 white (including him), and 4 black. When they stopped at the truck stops, the black drivers had to use seperate restrooms and showers, and had to eat in a small room in the back of the kitchen. Grandpa and his co-driver would eat in the back with the rest of the team, and while they didn’t speak of it at the time, they knew it was wrong yet felt powerless to change it, and believed that it would never change.
Tonight, he told me, we have come full-circle. Many people, especially the younger generation who supported Obama, will never fully realize the historical import of what happened tonight. But he wanted his grandchildren to know this story that he had never told us, and it was the second time in my 33 years that I have heard my grandpa cry.
The speech in which he will accept the Democratic nomination for president will be 45 years to the day after MLK’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech. History always vindicates the dreamers.
I am, I think, constitutionally inclined to play the devil’s advocate. But any nods to that would only diminish this singular moment which, frankly, I never knew I always wanted.
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